Every novel begins somewhere unexpected. 

For Days of Dandelion, it began not with a character or a plot, but with a university assignment. 

While studying at the University of Hull, I was asked to begin developing an original idea for a novel. Looking for inspiration, I visited my local library (Norwich & Norfolk Millennium), hoping that something on its shelves might spark the beginning of a story. 

Two books caught my attention. 

One was titled: Dandelion Days.

The other explored Europes most overlooked artists. If I remember correctly, it was called: The most famous unknown artists in Europe. 

I was immediately struck by the dichotomy between fame and anonymity, And Catherine Maude Nichols, quiet, but knowing portrait. Then I found her artworks and saw something familiar in them - quietness, depth and reflection. They seemed to capture not only architecture, landscape or light - but a feeling.

Then as I read through the research on her life, I discovered something that surprised me even more than her work. 

Despite exhibiting at the Royal Academy and becoming one of the first elected to the Royal Soceiety of Painter-Etchers, very little is known about her today. She had lived a short distance from the apartment where I was living at the time, yet I had never heard her name. 

That sense of quiet disappearance stayed with me. 

And the more I searched, the more I realised that so much of her life remained unknown. Some accounts praised her discreet personal life and applauded her vision, others questioned her outspoken attitudes on art and her distinct impressions of the world. Yet rather than discouraging me with a lack of truth, those unanswered questions became part of the inspiration for Days of Dandelion. 

The novel, in its truest sense, is not about Catherine Maude Nichols, nor is it intended to tell her story in verbatim truth. Instead, her life, her work, and her refusal to disappear in her time and mine became the emotional touchstone while I wrote - a reminder that beauty can survive long after the people who create it have faded from public memory. 

In many ways, Days of Dandelion grew from that discovery: a chance encounter in a library, a forgotten artist from my own part of the world, and the quiet belief that some stories deserve to be remembered. 

*****

I wrote the first draft of the Novel from September to December in 2024. Then spent the next two years, slowly refining and letting the work inform my revisions. The entire time I felt guided by Catherine. When I was exploring other aspects of my life, I found whispers of her presence through Norwich. 

At a friends birthday in November 2025 - we went the Queen Iceni on the Norwich river, just a way down from her Norwich river painting. It was packed and we sat in the corner of this building on the only available chair. Then, as the discussions continued around us, I saw her staring back at me. In the small corner of the room, a small, perhaps dignified biography of her importance in the Art world, of her time. 

After that I noticed more and more of her and her families presence in Norwich. Unthank Road, where I lived, had been named after her uncle (General Unthank) who was involved in the organisation, perhaps founding of the NR2 golden triangle. Catherine was buried in Eaton park, a few streets away from my apartment. 

It’s an odd feeling, as a writer, to get to this point. Because the one questions that I still wonder is, did I find Catherine, or did Catherine find me. Regardless, I do believe that her memory, or presence or history saved me. It helped me to process my own life, attitudes, rejections from the artistic industry.