Picture it.
A beautiful young peasant girl with clear, olive skin meets an exciting but penniless Spanish artist.
There's an instant attraction.
They laugh, they sing. They slam down a few boilermakers.
Shortly afterwards, he's arrested for showing her how he can hold his palette without using his hands.
But I digress. He paints her portrait, and they make passionate love.
She later sees the portrait, and is insulted - it looks nothing like her - and she storms out of his life forever!!
That peasant girl was me.
And that painter was Pablo Picasso.