I THINK my artistic streak first revealed itself when I was a child and found my mum’s lipstick.

“Come and see what I’ve done,” I said, proudly leading her upstairs to the spare room. Inside, I had coloured the walls with pink scrawl.

I imagine it was like that scene from The Shining, but this time sponsored by Max Factor.

It could have ended there – a single Picasso moment – but my strange tendency to colour things, create patterns and cause trouble continued.

At around seven years of age, my parents gave me stale bread slices to throw out for the birds. Rather than chucking them out of the door, I divided the loaf into tiny identical squares and arranged it on the grass like a carbs-based Roman mosaic.

I gained huge satisfaction by watching sparrows hop across my masterpiece.

Teachers told me off for colouring in the margins of my primary school books with Crayola rainbows. I got into a lot of trouble for melting wax crayons to make mini sculptures. I disappeared behind the sofa for an entire day, copying two foxes from a Christmas card, and another day was spent tracing out the face of a horse.

The creativity didn’t stop in later life. While at university I discovered oil paint and a whole new world of artistic possibility opened up.

I set up an easel in my tiny room and filled it with canvases and pigments. Forget drugs, I was high on painting mediums.

My clothes were dotted with French Ultramarine, my duvet had Naples Yellow staining the edges. Mostly, I made a mess.

Gradually, with the help of several artists I met along the way, I managed to focus.

I discovered a lot of like-minded arty types in Kendal. I have never lived in a place with so many art groups and classes.

Last winter, I joined Kendal Art Society and, this week, I put three still life paintings in the summer exhibition.

It opens this Saturday at Kendal’s Town Hall. Come down – I’ll be the one with the mousey brown hair and the speck of green paint just above my eye.