An exaggerated depiction of a memory from the backseat of a Honda Civic. Sometime mid-1980s, colouring book on my lap, almost dry pens (you know, stripping them back to the inner section so as to smear the last ebbs of the ink onto the page).

The road was bumpy, as most were in the Highlands of Scotland, the colouring challenging, the mindset bordering on bored and feeling just slightly sick. Occasional glimpses of an outstanding view and thinking something along the lines of

'Pretty', but mainly taking it for granted. Repeating 'Are we nearly there yet?' We would often drive to my Mum's caravans where she would clean, awaiting the next humans. I would adventure in the woods up a hill, looking down at the caravans, seeing her occasionally moving about outside or passing a window.

This painting has been building over the last few years, reflecting on that time taken for granted. The National Gallery's

2018 Thomas Cole show, Eden to Empire, provided additional stimulation along the way, together with Swift's Gulliver's Travels and its land made for giants that simultaneously satirised those who would lead us. In this time of oddness and isolation I wanted to depict my backseat memory as an all-singing romance.