On Saturday I went on a painting masterclass with Jayne Good, accompanied by friends Erica, Tracey, Jen and Jude (who paid for me as a birthday present. This is the result:

My first oil painting

Obviously, it's not the finest painting in the world, or even of the day, and some might say it's more than slightly crap but, considering I haven't picked up a paintbrush since I was eleven, I'm secretly a tad proud. Yes, I know the mountains owe more than a little to a bar of Toblerone, but hey, there are few hills in Fenland, let alone mountains, and I can't remember the last time I saw a real one, so for a first attempt I don't think it's half bad.

My dad was a professional artist, and I grew up in a house full of art materials, but somehow I never got my hands on anything and on the rare occasions I did he would (with the best intentions) take control and finish it for me. He has been very generous, however, and offered to let me raid his studio and take some stuff to get started, if I so wish.

I am tempted to have another go.

BTW, as my friends will know, I promised a good friend just before he died that I would do at least one thing a year that scared the bejasus out of me. The prospect of picking up a paintbrush and making a complete arse of it did just that. Phew!