My art master had encouraged me to go on to Art College. I had applied to Hornsey College of Art for a year foundation course, a “try everything and see what you like” sort of thing. I thought I could travel to north London for the three days a week that were asked for, and if it became too much, would get a part-time job and move up there. Well, “The best laid plans…” All was arranged, and my grant cheque was to be with the college on enrolment day. No cheque was forthcoming. Not then, or in the subsequent three weeks, and having used all my savings, and any goodwill of my parents, I had to give it up as a bad job. Again, with hindsight, it was probably for the best. After working for one day on a lathe in an electrical components factory, a week in a large commercial bakers watching hundreds of proofing loaves crawl past on their way to the ovens, a month in a steel foundry, and three months as a chippy's labourer (easily the best of the bunch), I was no closer to knowing what I wanted to be doing in another twenty years.

At this point, I had a call from my old art master. He knew of an advertising studio in London that was looking for a junior. My father still had enough patience, and faith, to get me fitted into a jacket and trousers, and off I trooped, to land a job for the starting salary of £14 a week, as a gopher in a very successful photographic retouching studio. I admit, I was completely in awe of the work that was being done in this place, but I must say, a bit removed. The process of airbrushing something into a photograph that was not there on a dye transfer print, or bleaching out the background on a 10” x 8' transparency and swabbing in a clean replacement colour was very impressive, but not something that caught my attention much. However, attached to the retouching firm was a small illustration studio of four people, when passing my desk one day, showed an interest in my doodling on a sketchpad, and asked if I would like to work for them. After seeing the work they did, I thought it much more up my street, so I had found my in a rather round the houses way, to what I would be doing as a worthwhile and challenging career.

The arrangement was a sort of apprentership. For a good period of time, my job would involve me sweeping-up, changing water pots, delivering and fetching work from mainly the West-end of London, general make-up of presentations and the ubiquitous sandwich and coffee runs. Over this time however, I was able to watch over the shoulders of the resident illustrator, and any freelancer that came to work in house. As the company grew, they took on more artists, and they were all kind and patient enough to help me learn the ropes of Magic Markers, acrylic paint and other mediums, especially when given my first proper jobs to do. After building up to larger and more significant work, including a couple of overnight jobs, I finally got to work in the studio full time, and another messenger was brought in to replace me. One step on the ladder!

Pretty soon, I became a freelancer, as all in-house illustrators were retained on that basis. And that is pretty much how it stayed, moving buildings a few times, but always with the same people. My work got better, and I could pretty much put a good standard of work to most subjects and mediums. I had a few good independent regular clients, and had work printed in advertising and publishing.

Moving on a few years, I regularly read the historical aviation magazines, and advertised in there were numerous artists selling prints. At the air shows too, you could see these close up, and I developed my love of Frank Wooten and Michael Turner's work. Over this time, I started to get a bit picky if I thought something was below par, or just plain wrong (not from the above names I hasten to add!). Colleagues at work would say, “If you think it's not very good, you do better.”

I also got great support from my wife Heather, who is a much more daring person than I, and as my greatest fan, helped me build the confidence to put my money where my mouth was. So I started pottering around with oil paints for the first time since my A Level art exam. I did myself a huge favour by joining the Guild of Aviation Artists, of which several annual exhibitions I had visited. They promote the sharing of knowledge, and the encouragement I received from all levels when joining as a beginner was so helpful and motivating. After trying, and failing to get some meaningful training in my local art class in the dark art of oil painting, I decided to jump in the deep end, and put a painting or two up for selection for their next Annual Exhibition.

Not only were my four paintings accepted as of a sufficient standard, but one of them, “Sunlit Silence” was awarded the main prize, “Painting of the Year”, and along with an award for best newcomer, I was honoured to have them presented to me by HRH Prince Andrew.