The die is cast

One of my subjects for my stand-up comedy was death. When Carrie Fisher was buried, her coffin was in the shape of a Prozac pill.

For myself, I tried to think of something long and blue (favourite colour) but all I could think of was the Challenge Anneka truck.

Anyway, I decided I’d like my ashes mixed into three pots of paint for my sons.

I paint with Maggi Hambling’s Masterclass and one of the other artists, Jelly Green, crafts ravishing forests on canvas.

Would she incorporate my ashy paint into three works for my sons? The ashes would add some knobbly texture to the bark.

She had an exhibition recently and Son 1 came along. He later said: “A Jelly painting is worth a lot of money… we could sell you off, Mum.”

I waited for the punchline. Nothing. So, if you see a Jelly Green painting for sale in about 25 years with knobbly bits in the undergrowth, could you return it to my sons with a note saying: “I think you lost this. Mum.”