Ginger nuts

While I doubt Gabriel Dante Rossetti, William Holman Hunt and John Millais were really like the highly-sexed lads portrayed in the series, there are undoubtedly fundamental truths to be found in Peter Bowker’s telly romp. One is their fascination with flame-haired models.

Being a red-head, I admit being drawn to the works of the Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood. And I wonder whether, had I been around at the time, I might have been in demand as an artist’s model.

In my youth my titian hair hung golden and wavy almost to my waist. Combined with my fair complexion, it would surely, at the very least, have got Rossetti’s brushes twitching.

In fact, a few men in the past have displayed an unhealthy attraction for my colouring. One in particular, Bill, a swarthy looking type with shifty eyes, stalked me for weeks when I was a student.

It was partly my fault. He used to buy me lunch which, as I had very little money, was actually quite useful, so I was fairly measured in how much I discouraged his interest.

What I didn’t realise, was his attentions were not only directed at me, but also to other red heads.

I discovered this when he not only tried to entice me into bed, but also my ginger friend, Nigel.

At this point his fascination became quite a joke.

Nigel somewhat trumped my position by turning up at a party with his sister, yet another redhead. Three red-heads were just too much for Bill and he abandoned his seduction attempts and bowed out in a state of confusion.

However, we were convinced, given time for planning, Bill’s fantasy world could take on ever more bizarre proportions in his head.

We hatched a plot to throw a party and only invite red-headeds... and Bill.

We reckoned he’d go crazy and simply explode. Of course we never got round to organising the party, but I still chuckle at the idea.

Anyway, those Desperate Romantics... I don’t think I’d actually have fared very well as a Pre-Raphaelite model. For a start I don’t like being cold. This would have been a drawback as the reality of life for girls in Rossetti, Millais and Holman Hunt’s paintings was actually far more desperate than romantic.

It often meant spending hours in freezing studios living on bread and cheese washed down with cheap gin, and in the case of Lizzie Siddall, involved lying in a bath full of cold water for days on end. The result – John Millais’ Ophelia – may be a landmark painting that to this day is one of the greatest hits at Tate Britain but next time if you ever see it, don’t forget poor Lizzie nearly died of pneumonia to make it happen.