As the film credits rolled, I surreptitiously tried to smear away my tears with my sleeve in the darkness of the cinema.
Years of slumping over a drawing desk or standing at an easel have given me some back trouble.
I went to see an osteopath who sent me away with a stack of exercises to do twice a day. To keep my mind occupied while bending and stretching, I listened to a TED talk that someone had posted on social media. It's by Anil Seth and is called, 'Your Brain Hallucinates Your Conscious Reality'.
A new person has now been introduced to the magic of theatre - my nephew. Performances of The Boy, The Piano and The Beach took place over the bank holiday weekend.
Slot Machine Theatre, a collection of lovely, inspiring and passionate people, were behind the creation of the show, and they wanted to make something high-end and magical for children.
Set to a programme of live classical piano music, the story told of how a little boy found a magic hat that took him into another world.
I was on board in the capacity of an artist. I designed the character for The Boy, created sketches for the rehearsals, and drew a 12-frame 'graphic novel' based on the story, which went into the programme.
The show was pitched at kids aged six and up, but we took a risk and brought along my four-year-old nephew.
It was really fun to watch him watching the show, because he was clearly captivated. The kids were all sitting on mats in front of the performance space, and by the end of the show, my nephew had crawled into the front row.
His eyes were alight with wonder and at the end, he didn't want to leave.
I've had some insight into how much effort, patience and emotion went into creating the piece, from all of the contributors – not just the performers. So it was really rewarding to see how much it was enjoyed.
This is how all artists dream that their work will be received! And to be honest, this is absolutely the best part about working as an artist. Because every now again, I have witnessed that same spark of wonder in an adult's eyes when they are looking at one of my pieces. It's as if they have put on a magic hat, and gone into another world. And then I think to myself, my work here is done.
‘OK darrlin’, bellowed the large lady at JFK’s Air Shuttle desk. She didn’t look up from under her impressive afro as she handed over a small white card. ‘Here’s your ticket, ‘n I want choo sittin’ right here at a quarter pay-ast. Ok honey?’
‘Thank you,’ I bleated, my economy-travel-worn English accent suddenly sounding very weedy.