keeping it in the family

 

 

It was the first time my Mum Shirley Hughes has shared a stage with my brother journalist and writer Ed Vulliamy and me, but I have a hunch we shall be doing this again. It was hugely fun, and very proud-making. For anyone who couldn’t make it, I thought I’d just revisit some of my favourite bits.

With the fabulous Mark Ellen captaining our merry ship, we kicked off with some old family snaps from the 50’s and 60’s to set the scene…

 

                                                                       

 

Mum reminisced about early signs of what we would be doing with our lives – Ed rushing out onto the pavement on election day with a skipping rope interviewing passersby for their views, me obsessively drawing and making teeny tiny plasticine models.

Out of the blue I remembered using up her paints at the end of the day, like licking the mixing-bowl after baking…

We couldn’t remember the dawning realisation that our Mum was Shirley Hughes: she was just our mum. But we DID know that art was in the very air we breathed, and that we owe to her and our Dad our passion for looking at paintings (the five-paintings-then-an-ice-cream rule installed very early on, and still stands!).

Then Alfie and Annie-Rose, everybody’s favourite duo…

 

 

Mum described Alfie (who isn’t one of us, just an imaginary creation like all her characters) running pink-faced into the action. He would be 30 now…

And Dogger – what hard-hearted person can read this book without their voice seriously wobbling with high emotion?

 

 

Ed talked wonderfully about his work – not as a war correspondent but an anti-war correspondent, and being an accidental witness to historic world events, most especially – as the first print-journalist to uncover the concentration camps – the war in Bosnia.

You can read my post about his book, and the devoted friends he has made, here.

 

 

I revealed that I’d only really put myself in a book once (yes, Martha IS me!)…

 

 

and Mark thought it was great that we’d left the hands in our photographs – very analogue, he said!

We talked about boredom being an essential ingredient for a creative childhood, from my Mum’s early years in WW2 with acres of time to make up stories, put on shows and draw pictures;

 

 

we had time on our hands, too – no rushing from club to class to organised activity for us, but days of daydreaming and playing and pottering about.

Coincidentally, to illustrate the idea of encouraging children to look out at a beautiful world, Mum and I both chose a moonlit picture…

 

        

 

and Ed told us that a psychiatrist had once said to him she didn’t envy him having to get over a happy childhood.
That really made me laugh!