We painted, the children and I, last Sunday afternoon, newspapers spread out on the kitchen floor, fingers and old clothes smeared with those lurid colours of children’s paint boxes which nothing really ever is. In such moments, as idly swirl abstract patterns on my own piece of paper, I often think about how tempting it is for adults to take charge with children; to tell them what to paint, which colours to paint it, what adult-assumed detail to add. Adults do it with adults too: why else would most work performance reviews be really just a barrage of minor corrections equivalent to the adult suggesting the child add a nose to their gloriously noseless, pink, three-legged robot. The result? We become skilled in doing what we are told, but we don’t feel terribly satisfied doing it. Experience tells us that a real understanding of the basics followed by the odd helpful nudge is far better.

I joined Instagram in December: to see what all the noise was about and with the woolly hopes of promoting this blog. I could not resist following a few foodie gurus, so now it’s January and my phone is flooded with wheatgrass smoothies, braised kale and turmeric-infused chickpeas. I am not complaining – the images are beautiful and the ideas interesting – but there is something in amongst those many shades of green that reminds me of the children and their paintings. Continue reading →