Wishing you great health and happiness in 2025!

I am consciously stating the obvious when I write, spending quality time with family is limited when you live on opposite sides of the planet.

When we moved to Australia in 1998, my niece was a child. We are getting to know her and partner as adults whilst they take working holiday breaks from Spain here. Initially in 2018/2019 and again this year. We just spent a joy filled time swapping stories and creating happy memories with them over Christmas.

Whilst reviewing my sketchbook, my niece and partner were drawn to a rendering of a Pink Airhead from March 2024. They remarked on the way the character had developed over time.

Today’s whimsical Airhead represents both outward airy lightness through the pink rocks/stones and inner darkness contained in the black outlines.

‘Pink rock’ is a play on words reflecting a lack of self confidence to display goth/punk/emo individuality. I believed, to be accepted, I had to hide my true self and conform to societal norms. I wonder where this belief began.

As a shy young teen distracted by fantasy, horror, sci-fi, and daydreaming, I expressed myself through coloured handwriting. Setting aside traditional black and dark blue, I favoured apple green and turquoise inks in my fountain pens. Both of them intermittently leaked over my fingers and exercise books. Also, I had a hot pink felt tip pen reserved for doodling, sketching, and creating organic shapes filled with circles/bubbles.

Going further back, in the first class of primary school 1968-1969, taught by Mrs J. Booth, I have three distinct memories: winning a prize for hand painting/printing; enjoying singing along to “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)” accompanied by guitar; and exposing myself in the communal handwashing area of the unisex toilets.

I have no recollection of the reason why, having removed all of my garments, I minced out, hands in the air from the cubicle like a bawdy butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. Nor do I remember any repercussion of my action.

Up until that point, I believe I was as carefree as any other five year old. I dressed my teddies, floated around like a bird, and coloured in.

Above is my report from the end of the first class of primary school. 3 (satisfactory) for conduct stands out from the 4 (good) grades. I suspect this was due to memory number three above.