She died in her sleep of a massive heart attack. She’d survived breast cancer (a double masectomy) and had become diabetic, but my mum was a proper survivor – not once, not one time did I ever think that the cancer or anything else would get her – I never thought my mum could die, for all intents and purposes, in my mind she was indestructable – and, of course, since she made it through cancer that just proved me right – there ya’ go – the woman can’t be killed. And a few years after she’s over it, she died of a heart attack. I’m not sure posting this is the smartest thing I’ve done, as it’s supposed to be the end of the blog and it’s a blog with my battles with the drawing table. But my mum set me down the road of drawing. She bought my first comics (including 2000AD) – she bought me the Hulk comic/jigsaw, she bought me pencils and pens and paper. She put up with me drawing in the living room, the kitchen and anywhere else I could find enough space to draw. She put up with it, not because she could spot any particular ability, but because she was my mum, and that’s what a mum’s supposed to do.