If you thought that the economic recession is a time for an artist to be subjugated and cowed into silence, you would be wrong. I am thriving. In fact I, as always, have too much on my plate and am far too busy. I would like to blame my marriage for my situation – it’s always been a convenient excuse – but that would be a lie. Apart from my addiction to work, which remains a bone of contention, my relationship has been good and getting better for many years. The truth is that I am a workaholic.

Recently there have been more excuses than usual to be working, as I have hosted a Nancy Crow tour, undertaken to re-jig my website and found my favourite charity, the African Art Centre, in need of some extra help.

Nancy Crow is America’s best known quilt artist and runs tours to various parts of the world, including South Africa. The tour’s emphasis is on art and artists and I was privileged to be one of those visited. Working hard and working weekends, I made a lot of new pieces. I also recalled some works from various galleries and, together with our collection, mounted an exhibition at home. However, our distinguished guests made me feel that my works were not enough. In order to give the exhibition variety, my wife displayed her collections (ceramics, tea cosies and embroidery) and we showed some of our children’s artworks.

Helped by our friends, Mike and Margaret and Kathryn, the day was a success. Although the real pleasure for me was to see my family function as a team. My wife took charge of the sales and had arranged a fantastic tea, my daughter successfully sold my books and my six-year-old son acted as a tour guide. He made sure that the visitors he collared had seen all there was to see and had heard the story behind each work. Too boot, my orchids were blooming and it left me with little to do but pose for photographs and admire the people I love.

In his recent book Outliers, Malcom Gladwell (who also wrote The Tipping Point) points out that successful people put in the work hours and have had support from the kinds of people that can make the difference. In my experience these have always been family and friends.

My previous website was initiated, designed and run by my friend Kai, but I could not persist with that favour for ever. It was time to thank him and change friends. (I know that sounds fickle!) Since I am singularly ignorant about anything to do with the web, I needed someone else to help me. Fortunately, I have another friend in the IT business. The new website has been redesigned by my friend Garth and his compatriots at Umlungu to bring you a fuller, bigger picture. As a technophobe I can only admire, be grateful and curry favour.

It is not surprising then that I feel the need to give back a little. Of course there is a catch, as the give-back is not to the people who helped me, but perhaps things that go around, come around. I serve at the African Art Centre. It is a non-profit, public benefit, developmental organisation that was started 50 years ago. It teaches individuals art and crafts and provides an outlet – and in so doing, helps around 2000 people earn a living. I’m not sure why I am on the board, let alone elected Vice Chair, as I have neither legal, financial nor managerial skills. However, it serves my needs, as I feel as if I am doing something useful and giving something back to the community.

I keep hoping that the busyness will come to an end and that I will have nothing to do with my time, except to go fishing. In that respect, the future looks bleak. I have already lined up a trip to Johannesburg and a part in the “Book launch and Authors day” at the Hillcrest Aids Centre. If the first wave of Americans was not pressure enough, in a few weeks’ time I have a second tour visiting my house. This time it will be the Pasadena Art Alliance.

The busyness is making me dizzy and things are not as they should be. The tea cosies were a hit and my children’s works seemed to me to be more interesting. Perhaps the rush is an illusion, one caused by age and decrepitude, but it does seem to me that as the years go by I get busier and have to work harder.

I’m sure I would feel better if I could just blame my wife.