In 1961 I was at primary school in north London when our teacher asked everyone in the class to paint a galleon. Without thinking much about it I made a 10-year-old’s attempt, with uninspiring results. When I arrived at school the next day I was surprised to see it hanging on the wall – but not nearly as surprised as I was by what was hanging next to it.
Beside my shoddy rendering was a Spanish galleon – in brilliant detail – sailing into a sunset. Its masts were perfect and its sails hung limp in the air on the calm sea. It was incredible and I couldn’t believe one of my classmates had done it. I asked the boy standing beside me who had painted it. “Little Brownie”, he told me and pointed at a blond girl.
