Art: I had my first taste of freedom as a three year old, my Mum found me happy, with my tricycle, half a mile from the house at the local shops. From the age of seven I would walk a couple of miles away, across the fields, to the woods, or I’d ride my bicycle to Beacon Hill, enjoying the natural surroundings, watching the seasons, climbing trees and rock faces, finding interesting stones and observing the wildlife. On holiday, in Wales or the West Country, in an unfamiliar environment, it would be the same: On a family hike I would often go on ahead through the excitement of seeing what might be around the next corner or over the next hill, or I would get left behind, looking under stones for slow worms and lizards or finding the best way of crossing a stream that we didn’t need to ford. At the beach I would go clambering over the rocks looking for that elusive hidden rock pool teaming with life or being the first person to tread over the sand and discover a cave. Both of my parents had enjoyed a similar childhood to mine, a childhood experienced by very ...

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