Alongside music, Maggie and I began to take an interest in art. Sculpture appealed to me, having that engineering component; one can walk around sculpture. By the time we were in our thirties, we had both put together small picture collections—for me, British marine paintings, and for Maggie, portraits of children. When we could afford it, we moved to the Post-Impressionists, and we both had to agree before buying anything. But both paintings and other items formed hunting trophies. Whenever I managed to get a business deal away, we would go art hunting, so the souvenirs hanging on the walls reminded me of some business adventure or other.
Occasionally, when we were alone, we would dim the lights at night, pour ourselves a glass, and wander through the great house at Eddington, gazing at the windows of light and colour as they shone out of the darkness and, in the centre of the atrium, Locking Piece, a huge Henry Moore sculpture of two pebbles found on a beach, cast in green bronze the year we were married, 1962.
Over the years, I was asked to become Vice Patron of the Royal British Society of Sculptors (RBS)—the late Queen Elizabeth II was Patron—and I worked with them for ten years in an attempt to improve their commercial success. The Queen had come to open the largest contemporary sculpture exhibition at Kew in London, which caused a flurry of interest, and I remained a supporter.