Thinking back to my return to the little green haven in the depths of the surrey hills, I had spent my youth attending college, where I felt, after my first explosive and vibrant first year, at Farnham, that I learnt very little about art and painting. Most of the time I engaged in night long discussions on the meaning of art (apologise Monty Python). Brief encounters with the drugs scene and gay culture, but mainly, a love hate relationship with booze and hangovers. Much, I guess like other students, I learnt the hard way and gained a bit more about life along the way.
After college, I stayed in London and worked for the GLC for their play parks department and began working in Finsbury Park helping to build an Adventure Playground in what was quite a vibrant but troubled area. I worked with autistic and other children who needed support. I found the experience both exciting and also quite scary at times with knife threats and violence occasionally. I loved the work, mixture of teaching and practical hands on stuff, like building aerial runways. I became the Senior Play Leader and went on to work in Mile End near the Royal London Hospital.
I became and urbanite living a rather restless nomadic existence, Greendene in the country seemed like a universe away. After meeting up with some Dutch travellers I learnt about working in France, grape picking in the autumn and I, on a whim resigned my job and with a back pack and very little money in my pocket I took the boat train to France. Armed with an address given to me by the Dutch, I found myself in a commune in a mansion once used by the Gestapo just outside Paris! Later hitch hiked down south and managed to get a job and accommodation in a village near Avignon.
My experience of grape picking gave me other ideas on travel and work and once back in England I planned to go to Israel and work on a Kibbutz. I worked in factories and stayed at home with my parents to save money for the trip. It was while working at the factory that I met a fellow artist Martin Humphries that led to the formation of the London Surrey Arts group. More of which I will talk about in later writings.
II returned back to England in 1975 with many stories and thoughts abounding, but I was told I had to settle down and consider a “proper job” and this I found very hard to deal with. I continued with my nomadic life trekking up to London and working in various temporary jobs, I was neither a city nor a country person. I was completely split, and slowly sank into depression. I stayed in my room played music and fell into torpor. I don’t think I really understood depression then and nor did my family.
It was my mother again, who must have had at least an instinctive insight into my state, and she had kept up correspondence with Denis and Mike at the pottery and pestered me to get back in touch. Eventually I did shake myself out of my lethargy and rang them up. This, like many important things in life was not appreciated at the time, but it helped me climb out of the despondency I was feeling and set me on a road to recovery, or rather set me on the “Surrey lane” to improvement.
To be continued
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