Dipping a paintbrush into the pot of bright yellow paint, I handed it to the little girl sitting next to me and smiled as she splodged it on to the paper.
‘Beautiful,’ I said to her, pegging it up with the rest of the children’s artwork. It was 1983 and, at 16 years old, I’d just started a training scheme working with children at a local nursery. My school years had been chaotic and I’d left earlier in the year with no qualifications. Brought up by my grandparents, home life was tough, and homework and exams were never a
