…died when he was 66 and I was 11. Here he looks oddly like Edward VIII and it’s not how I think of him at all. I found the photo I made the drawing from at my mother’s. She thinks he must have been about twenty when it was taken - twenty-four years before she met him and thirty-five years before I was born. I’m amazed how handsome he looked. I only think of him as a slightly scary old man with not much hair and thick glasses - someone I fear my genes are slowly turning me into.

I’ve got a whole pile of photos to make drawings from. I’ve never been a fan of drawing from photographs but have been enjoying myself. It is interesting how I feel I’m getting to know the people I’m drawing, and working on them fits my very introverted mood of the moment. I’ve been very much at home this last month, not feeling my best, thinking a lot about my own life and for some reasons my parents’ too. I would like to get out and about more, make some drawings of a larger world, but in the meantime I shall content myself with some more getting to know the past.