It was written thus:
Mother: Janet Ann, Dress Designer and Milliner
Out of the mouth of her babe came:
Does God have His dinner on a tray so He can go on watching us?
What's in heads, eyes and elbows?
Father: Peter John, Chartered Civil Engineer
"Sunshine"
Out of the mouth of his babe came:
Why don't cherries fall up?
Granny: Minnie Christina
Knitting, crochet and a stitch in time saves nine
If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well
Bronnley Rose
Nanny: Gladys
Forgivable mess of experimental scones in a lilac kitchen
Bronnley Lavender
Grampy: Harold John
The Snow Queen, Hansel and Gretel, Sleeping Beauty
0yrs: Born Nicola Jane blonde with green
1yr: Talking Bye bye baby, Dada, Mum, Granny's washing
2yrs: First steps walking
5yrs: Cookham Rise Primary School. Green & white gingham dress, white ankle socks, red or tan closed in sandals.
11yrs: Stroud High School. Grey skirt, cherry and white striped blouse, cherry silk tie, grey blazer edged with cherry binding, black boater with cherry band, fawn socks, dark tan shoes.
Legs Eleven Released 2007 48yrs
21yrs: Awarded BA Hons Biophysics
24yrs: Awarded PhD Biomechanics
Research: Let me in on Your secrets God!
How is a mole built well for digging?
How is a rabbit, or a horse or a dog, built well for running?
How is a tendon made well for stretching?
So! I matched You with my mathematics, but for what? You had it all sewn up long ago!
In future, please give me something I cannot prove!
The tall, handsome, tea-making one: dark with chestnut
Books, stamps, Historian and Friend.
28yrs: 1 - boy blonde with green
32yrs: 2 - girl red with brown
Love Letters Released Summer 2008 49yrs
Summer Special Released Autumn 2008 49yrs
36yrs: 3 - girl loud voice
46yrs: Faith Released 2010 - 51yrs -
48yrs: First notes singing
50yrs: New Testament Released 2010 51yrs
52yrs: The Rite Released Spring 2011 52yrs
Revelation As yet unwritten
Hence the Scientist, trained to unearth and explain, relies on the Artist to shed light on my world. Experience after experience has made its way to the canvas, at last to rest within the multidimensional equilibrium of an image. And lifting onto my breath, the longed for song of the unknown, has been given its voice. There it will forever soar, riding the unchained melody of the increasingly resonant knowns.
Now You've got me beaten God, I humbly consent to remain here in Your mystery. Show me what I am not able to prove and I'll be content but to clothe it....in coats of paint.