Begin at the Beginning…
Taken in London
I entered the world in November 1965, in a maternity unit in Muswell Hill. My dad was on tour with the Royal Ballet and would come home at weekends to our flat in Crouch End, North London. We had the top flat, and my uncle and aunt occupied the middle flat – I say flat, these old London houses were huge with ornate ceilings and large fireplaces. I entered the theatrical and artistic world from the day I was born, and also right into the heart of swinging mid-1960s London. My father was a principal clarinettist with The D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, Festival Ballet, and then Royal Ballet- touring, and in the summer, he played for Max Jaffa
My mother was a fine artist ( she says that they never called themselves fine artists back then, but simply painters and sculptors), having graduated from Corsham School of Art, where famous painters of the day came to teach, including artists from St Ives, as well as others such as Patrick Caulfield and William Crosier (Bill). Years later, when I had booked and hung an exhibition of St Ives painters at the Brewhouse Theatre in Somerset, my mum said to me, ‘I went out with that one, pointing to a very well- known contemporary artist, and so she then described her life as a student in Corsham in the 1950’s, amongst all the different painters – including having an offer to join the Abstract Expressionists in America. As a young child, I remember visiting Bill ( William) Crosier’s house and being completely captivated by his paintings on his walls – recently delighted to see one of his works in The McManus - Dundee's Art Gallery and Museum.
A Landscape by William Crosier
I grew up surrounded by artists, modern experimental composers, musicians, opera singers, writers and choreographers, such as Fredrick Ashton, and ballet dancers, including Dame Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev, who regularly danced with the Royal Ballet. Some of the Royal Ballet dancers would, on their days off, grab a lift with my father back down to London, then pile into my parents’ flat, party until dawn, before being driven back to the venue wherever in the country they were performing. On major moves to venues on tour, the dancers and musicians would travel by a special Royal Ballet train. My father didn’t catch the train but toured in a unique, brightly coloured VW van, which my parents customised together— cutting off the roof and replacing it with a larger, almost boat-like structure. My mother did the riveting so my father's hands would be spared as a musician, and she painted it beautifully, mustard and white on the outside, and reds and greens on the inside. It was fully equipped, including a small bunk bed at the end for me and a pull-out double bed for my parents. Other dancers and musicians who were part of the Royal Ballet company did the same to various vans to avoid the train. Camping in towns and the countryside was much easier back then, before the roaming laws were changed. Sometimes, my dad was away for weeks at a time touring, but we would travel to see him in various theatres, including Scarborough, Newcastle and even Edinburgh.
