Bio-sheet for Exhibition    Nov. ‘85

     Neil Smalley, landscape painter in oils, and wife, Valerie, son John, 3(and a half), and dog Barney, and from Christmas/New Year, offspring No 2. Master or Miss X, which will it be? Watch this space.
     Currently all residing at the Winter Palace of Barneybees, where we shall stay thro’ all the yulesome jolifickating, baring a quick trip to the Norfolk  & Norwich somewhere between the turkey and the hsggis, and then batten well down with large  supplies of twefth cakes, swaddling clothes and Barneybeejolais under all the ice and snow and have you seen the icicles on Mrs. No21? And I  hope  the milk gets thro’ and emerge just in time for My Next Exhibition here in the Ivory Room, Feb.24th- Mar 1st.
     Don’t miss next February’s exciting instalment of Neil Smalley’s Paintings- an every day story of a simple, work-shy picture peddler.

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Bio Sheet for exhibition Feb. ‘86

     Regular viewers will remember that in last year’s thrilling instalment, our handsome hero (I have been called worse) wife Valerie, son John, and Barney the wonder dog, were anxiously awaiting the arrival of a Little Stranger. Now read on-
     On Dec. 18th,Miriam weighed in at a mere  6lbs, and she is  a little beauty.
     Now with a complement of five (Barney is one of the family) plus extended summer visits from a flying Grannie, there is no way we can all sleep on board ‘Walrus’ for the summer, so we are moving house to Catfield (next month, sometime) and in the summer we will commute down the river every day to Thurne, and ‘Walrus’ will become, in effect, a lock-up shop.
     So the grottles (bless ‘em) will still be able to come and unload their holiday money in exchange for paintings (you too if you fancy coming to dangle your feet in the water), the Barneybees Bunch will still be able to barbeque pig slices on the moorings, wash them down with Barneybeejolais, and smile sweetly for the expensive American and German cameras cruising by. I don’t know how I stand the pace, sometimes, but it beats working foe a living.
     If you were expecting to read a load of old squit about an artist communing with nature and seeking inspiration from the surrounding countryside, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong bloke.
I don’t know nothink  about  art; I just paint pictures, and the most valid inspiration I know is a bank manager with jackboot rash and monocle sores.