Cyril’s Portrait

About six months before he died in May 1984, I drew Cyril’s portrait. It has since hung near to where he used to sit, although it seems to follow me around and it has been exhibited several times in the biannual studio exhibitions at our house during the Harley Open Gardens.

I used to go round on Tuesday evenings. He would sit for about twenty minutes at his small table near the fire, break for ten minutes and then sit for another twenty. This went on for six weeks, before I called a halt.

His face looks like a ploughed field. His hand shows a broken knuckle, as a result of falling off the tractor he told me.  Hs gaze roams across fields and hedgerows, ditches and ponds. In fact he was watching Top of the Pops most of the time.

Every evening, about eight- o-clock, several of the lads from the farm would come through the door. Spider, the youngest of the troupe, then about 18 was his favourite. I can’t remember the names of the others, but I do remember that within a few minutes of Shropshire banter, Cyril became the same age as the others. They would then take him off to the village pub, The Feathers for a pint.