From the age of eight, summer holidays were spent at the family beach house in Merricks and although there was a local yacht club, ours was not necessarily a boating family.
When I was in my late twenties, I stayed in a magnificent house overlooking Rushcutter's Bay in Sydney. I would snatch precious moments alone sitting on the balcony, gazing captivated at the sea and sailing boats below. I always had a pen and notebook in hand, filling its pages with sketches.
My former partner was a very skilled and experienced yachtsman, but I had very little to do with his boat. We lived for some years in Moonee Ponds and one of my greatest pleasures was driving to nearby Williamstown and walking along the pier. Being surrounded by such a wonderful assortment of boats was like stepping into another world.
Some were sleek and modern, some big and stark, while others had as much character clinging to their weathered timbers as the barnacles below. Their sensual curves, strong lines and jaunty shapes piqued my imagination. I relished the mingling of colours and the sound of the wind dancing through the rigging.