Whose Idea Was This Again?

Or 'How I Moved Back to Scotland to be an Artist'

We’ve just celebrated the anniversary of The Big Move North.

It’s been a whole year since DB and I packed up (most) of our worldly goods and Hercule the cat into our beloved old camper van and set off for the next chapter of our lives. Hercule didn’t think this was a good idea; we were slightly more optimistic.

It was a glorious September here in Galloway when we arrived. Hot enough to swim every day and laugh at all our pessimistic friends in the south who had predicted icy winds and constant rain. That, of course, came later.

In the mean time we revelled in the sunshine and our new home, while Essex boy Hercule acquainted himself with the coos at the end of the garden. It had taken us four years from buying the cottage to actually moving in permanently.

We are both what pension companies like to call ‘risk averse’ so we hadn’t entirely burnt all our bridges. We made a plan that we would move for a year and if it didn’t work out we could always pick up our old life in the pretty village in rural Essex that had been our home for many years. And I could return to my business making wedding dresses and costumes.

The truth is that after nine months of packing, winding down my business, redecorating the house and doing THE WHOLE MOVE OURSELVES (so mammoth a task that it absolutely deserves capitalisation)  the idea of doing the whole exercise in reverse twelve months later was definitely not on my agenda. Of course I didn’t tell DB that. I was born and brought up in Scotland, and my family on my father’s side come from Galloway so I was definitely Going Home.

Apart from the opportunity to spend more time with my family, I was desperate to finally have a chance to focus on my art practice. Having started my working life as an actor, I then went to art school and trained as a costume interpreter. When I found myself single with two small children to care for, I reinvented myself again as a bespoke dressmaker. Wonderful, creative jobs, but I always felt I was a conduit for someone else’s vision. As the years went on I yearned to have the chance to express my own creative voice. I felt so stifled and depressed and, the longer I felt like that, the sicker I got. Eventually life became a little easier, my daughters grew older and I had the support of a wonderful partner.  Little by little I gave myself permission to take some time back for myself, and explore my own artistic ideas. I made some art and I sold a healthy amount. Enough to make me think I wasn’t being ridiculous.  It was a start but also more of a gateway drug…the more I got, the more I wanted.

So…this was finally my chance and I had worked for years to make it happen. I was moving back home to Scotland to be an Artist.