I stopped designing textiles at the same moment that I got a job that allowed me to buy starfruit in Covent Garden's Waitrose without a second thought. I gladly threw off the fear of not earning enough/not being good enough in return for a job with cachet plus cash and carelessly threw away the part of me that could take a white sheet of watercolour and change it. Circumstances conspired, time passed and I have yet to make that delicious first mark. Truly, not a tick. It became a thing. Is a thing, I mean, what will it be that is so momentous that I decide to draw again after twenty years?