MY LOST TODDLERHOOD

In my early twenties, I painted two landscapes — a railway tunnel and a derelict barn. Decades later, after recovering the truth about my toddlerhood, I realised these paintings contained secret messages from my subconscious.” In the summer of 1985, I produced alfresco oil paintings of a railway tunnel for my degree year at City University. In the summer of 1986, I produced on site oil paintings of a tumbledown barn in a barley field. Clues in My Paintings Exposed My Buried Trauma In both instances, I felt something was missing. In the case of the railway tunnel, I placed a dead tree over a gate located at the tunnel mouth. In the case of the tumbledown barn, I placed a plank over the doorway. I experienced a ‘click’ in my head after adding these elements. During both summers, I suffered terrible depression, intrusive thoughts and disturbed nights. I was also working on a novel, The Lessons (originally titled The Upstairs Room ). A burning fantasy world consumed my days fuelling m...

It is 15 July 1986 and I am 21. I have just graduated from City University with a degree in Fine Art with Hons. I had almost failed due to the lowest dissertation mark of my group. However, the strength of my paintings had earned me an upper-second. My degree show had comprised studio pieces taken from alfresco oil paintings of a bridge, gate and dead tree scene just outside our village.   Still, I am pleased about my degree result. My 1986 Paintings Reveals My Past Excerpts of the following have been taken from my memoir book, Mirror Image Shattered . I am now living back home, am on the dole with no boyfriend. I am also struggling with my novel The Lessons , which I had been working on since 23 April 1985. With nothing else to focus my mind on, I decide to have a go at another stint of alfresco oil paintings like last summer. I focus my mind upon the Stables Farm at the bottom of our road. Dad knows the owners and had asked permission for us to trek over the fields there. The D...

In the summer of 1985, I spent weeks painting a railway tunnel without understanding why the site unsettled me.  This is a true story about secret messages in my landscape paintings . The journey is dark, but the outcome is unexpected and heartening. Introduction: The Summer That Haunted Me The following is sources from my memoir book, Mirror Image Shattered . It is late August 1985. I’m 20 and about to begin my third and final year at University. The summer holidays are coming to a close and I have no idea what I’m going to paint for my Fine Art degree show. I’m beginning to feel tetchy. Dad tells me of a railway tunnel where he takes the dog for a walk. It might be a good spot for alfresco paintings. On 23 August 1985, I accompany him to encounter an old railway bridge with a cattle gate. It seems ok, but something is missing. I mention this to Dad, but he doesn’t see what I mean. He likes the site and believes it has everything needed for good landscape painting. The Railway T...

At the age of 14, I began to draw a man’s face. The man had broad features, shaggy dark hair and a fierce glower. I didn’t know where he came from. Before long, I was compulsively drawing this man in the margins of sketchbooks and puzzlers. When I was bored or when life seemed to hold little meaning, I would draw him. I disliked and feared him yet I sensed he needed something from me. As no one of that description lived with us, I assumed he was a fictional character. Aidan who was never a childhood familiar. My book The Lessons analyses my novel. The Drawings That Haunted My Adolescence Before long, something psychologically dangerous happened.   I imagined living his life and I put myself in his shoes. I injected part of myself behind his face. As a result, my feelings for this man grew conflicting. My dislike for him remained but now I felt guilty and responsible for him. I even cared about him. This is because I had placed my humanity behind the face of a man who was in fac...

On 3 August 1981, I went on a mystery trip with my sisters and brother-in-law. What I didn’t know was that the destination was Portmeirion, in North Wales, the location of where the 70s TV series, The Prisoner , starring Patrick McGoohan was filmed. What no one knew was that I was afflicted with private terror of this ‘thing’ that used to make an appearance in the show. First, a brief overview of what T he Prisoner was about. Portmeiriron, Wales (Tom Parnell Wikimedia Commons) The Prisoner Plot Patrick McGoohan is a secret agent who is abducted from his London apartment to find himself in a sinister seaside village where he is held captive. People from all walks of life appear resigned to living there, allowing a controlling regime to dictate their lives.   Residents are known only by numbers; McGoohan is Number Six. Number Six doesn’t know who is an inmate or a guard and therefore can trust no one. ‘Number Two’ (who takes on various identities) heavily monitors Number Six, and N...

The following are meticulous records of my Sunday school activity, taken from my 1981 diary (1 February – 1 November 1981). All entries are (mostly) verbatim. In order to retain anonymity, I have changed the names of my family members and I am writing under a pseudonym. For clarity, Eve is my identical twin. Mrs. Lackie is the church warden who oversees the Sunday school classes. Delia and Anita are other Sunday school teachers.   I’m 15 when I begin my teaching. Unless otherwise stated, every day is Sunday. Or Read how my Sunday school teaching reveals my horrific toddlerhood The Double Life of a Sunday School Teacher The diary entries illustrate my physical and psychological niggles about doing Sunday school teaching, explained in another article . My Sunday School Records: Winter Period 1 Feb 1981 Wore blue cords, T shirt and a jumper. Mum gone to church. When she had come back, she told me she had fixed for me to be a Sunday school teacher at the parish hall. Sat outside...