Tufty’s Farm, acrylic on canvas, 30cm x 30cm
Its a farm just down the road from our house, the very last building in this suburb and then you’re in the countryside, these days they seem to keep cows and horses but back in the day it was a pig farm and the farmer and his wife who ran the place had a flat bed truck that they would load up with empty dustbins and do a tour of all the schools in the district every day to collect the school dinner slops to feed to their pigs, what a lovely job.
Tufty was the farmers daughter, so-called by her female friends because of a tuft of hair that would not lay down on her head no matter how much you spit on it and pressed it down. We boys came to know her in the year that our all-boys school joined forces with her all-girls school, she stood out from the crowd of girly-girls who ventured into our hallowed boys school for two reasons – her breasts.
At fifteen years of age she was already off the bra scale, sure she was what could kindly be called a “sturdy girl”, one who looked as though she fed well off her fathers pigs, but my god, those breasts were unfeasibly voluminous and christ only knows what sort of construction she wore underneath the always very tight sweatshirt to keep them under control, they were the sort of breasts that seem to have a life of their own, a bon vivant devil-my-care life where they were not ashamed to enter a room several seconds before their owner did, the phrase “Hello Boys” was invented by Tufty’s chest.
Her popularity was enhanced by the fact that right next door to the farm, just over that hill in the painting above, was our local rugby club where she rightfully gained the nickname “Melons” and was, shall we say, a very popular member.
So there we have it, “Tufty’s Farm”, now available to purchase as an original on Artgallery.co.uk or as a print, a coaster, a mug or a jigsaw (yes really) on Deviant Art (see links on right hand side).