I DON'T know about you, but I am the sort of person who, upon finding myself in an art gallery, is inclined to make straight for the famous ones, to hell with the rest.

When I lived in this nation's capital I used to wind up in the National Gallery on the odd loose-ended afternoon.

Not only was it free, as are all of life's best things, it also allowed the armchair Brian Sewell in me a spot of instant artistic gratification. I wanted the ones I have seen on the telly, place mats and posters in Athena, and nothing else.

The National Gallery is chicken soup for the simple soul in this respect. There is that one of the woman in the lake, the enormous white horse on its hind legs, and the train in the fog. All famous, and all separated from your eyeballs by nothing more than a suggestion of security and a low red rope, looped between short brass posts.

It is intensely satisfying to be actually standing in front of the actual paintings you recognise, which for some reason, Mona Lisa aside, always seem bigger than you expected.

It's just one vicarious thrill after another. A miserable-looking Rembrandt here, any one of seemingly endless depictions of Madonna and child there, and some of whatever it was that Dali did.

And then there are the Water Lilies, Claude Monet's most famous motif, beloved of diary and notebook manufacturers the world over and always popular among my fellow philistines.

Looking at 'the real Water Lilies' is something of a moot point, however, given that an aging Monet painted about 250 pictures of the surface of his pond in Giverny. But, perhaps because he was suffering from cataracts at the time, they all look sort of the same, so you get the general idea.

That might just be my untrained eye talking, mind you. The other one is now bang up to speed on Monet and all the other Impressionists, thanks to the Torbay Decorative and Fine Arts Society.

TDFAS, as its unpronounceable acronym goes, is the Bay branch of a much wider organisation, the far easier to say NADFAS, or National Association of Decorative and Fine Arts Societies, whose stated aim is 'the advancement of arts education and appreciation and the preservation of our artistic heritage'.

Part of this noble undertaking includes delivering to members a series of lectures on diverse subjects. In Torbay they have learned about Jane Austen, Handel in Georgian England, Painting in England in the 18th Century and with me in the crowd, the Flowers and Gardens of the Impressionists, by expert Dr Celia Fisher.

The lecture is to be heard in the Pengelly Hall at Torquay Museum, scene of my Mongolian cinematic encounter with a pregnant camel courtesy of Torbay Film Club. And sure enough, towards the back of the dozen of so banked rows of seats, are a handful of their members. Very arty types these film buffs.

There is a decent crowd in to hear the good doctor talk, and following a brief introduction from chairman Jean, the lights fade out and we're learning things. Well, I am anyway.

Celia opens with a discussion about Manet, who sounds suspiciously like Monet, and who was also his friend and fellow Impressionist.

The first painting is of Mr and Mrs Monet and mini Monet relaxing in their garden. It's called, imaginatively, 'The Monet Family in Their Garden at Argenteuil'.

Celia tells us that, as Manet was painting, he was joined by Renoir, who also recorded the scene on canvas.

So the story goes, Manet passed by Monet as Renoir was painting and whispered in his ear, 'He has no talent, that boy. Since you are his friend, tell him to give up painting!'

Oh how they must have laughed about that one. Its effect on me, however, is to render me instantly interested in the painting. The back story was all I needed to bring it to life. If I could take a doctor with me the next time I go to a gallery I might be there all day.

Celia moves on to the next slide, which appears on cue thanks to Clare on projector duties. She twists the lens, blurs the image, then brings it into sharp focus. It makes no difference to me, I still don't recognise it.

For once I think I may not be the only one. It is 'The Gardeners' by Gustav Caillebotte, whose name you may not recognise either. Never heard of him myself, but it turns out I do know one of his paintings; that one where three blokes are stripping wood off a floor — 'The Floor Scrapers'.

A few more slides in and Clare's fiddle bone can stand no more. Edging past my swivelled knees, she strides down to the front to fiddle with the doctor's mic.

"Keep talking," she says, while grabbing and reshaping the wire arm which holds the little black ball of foam in front of Celia's mouth.

"I can't keep talking while you're fiddling with me," she pleads, whilst being intensively fiddled with.

It does the trick at least, and Celia comes through loud and clear for the rest of her talk.

"That's my reputation shot," Clare whispers to me as she returns to her projector fiddling seat. I promise not to tell anyone.

Throughout the next hour we see paintings by Sisley, Monet, Pisarro and more Caillebotte. Celia discusses the use of flowers and gardens in each and is so interesting that not once do I yearn to be indulged with a famous picture.

When one arrives, in the form of one of those water lily efforts, I at least see it in a different light upon learning that Monet himself cultivated the elaborate flowers as a new breed. No wonder he painted so many of them.

Lecture over, Dr Celia rushes off to meet her train in Newton Abbot and I steel myself for a discussion of matters of artistic import with the members over a cup of tea and bourbon biscuit.

The most pressing issue among them all, though, is why there are not more of them. Jean admits that attracting new members is proving difficult, but she cannot put her finger on exactly why.

"There are a lot of organisations in this area," she says. "Even the museum itself has its own set of lectures. But a lot of societies are just for a person's own pleasure. We really think of TDFAS as keeping your brain alive.

"It's not only art. We had a wonderful music lecture recently. It's all about getting people out of Torbay and into the wider world. But it's very hard to move people.

"And we're all getting older. There isn't that late 50s, early 60s group coming through. It's only £40 a year, it's not like it's expensive."

The chairman for the past three years, Jean is not intending to be in position for a fourth. "I am finishing at the AGM," she says. I've heard that before, from just about every chairman I've ever met.

For TDFAS, though, there should be no shortage of hands going up when they ask for volunteers, if enthusiasm is any indicator.

"It is a wonderful organisation," Terry must tell me before she leaves. "I was lecturing in Salisbury yesterday, and go all over the place. Medieval stuff mostly. I was in Melbourne in September with the Australian society.

"These days it's so hard to find mental stimulus. But we just can't seem to get much interest in Torbay.

"It's probably a combination of factors, one of which is the parking for the museum, which is something I must attend to now." And off she whisks.

Peter, a former TDFAS chairman himself, is under similar constraints but seems just as keen to sing its praises. "The lectures you get are exceptional. It's not expensive if you think of it as nine super lectures a year, although you may not want to go to all of them, in which case you can pay individually.

"There are so many things in competition and we depend quite a lot on people who bring other people along. We do get the odd one who comes along to just a few lectures, simply because they are interested in the subject. But mostly because they are extremely good lectures."

Then we reach perhaps the nub of the frustration. "Mind you, Totnes and Newton Abbot societies have waiting lists to join. I wonder what they have that we don't."

Hundreds of members for a start, which clearly vexes the Torbay membership secretary.

"We have so much competition here," says Margaret. "Off the top of my head I can think of six Rotary clubs in Torbay. In a way we all have to cater for the same people."

But who are these people?

I would think Janice is probably your typical NADFAS member. Along with five other TDFAS members, she is currently restoring curtains from the 1850s at Compton Castle. Her daughters both studied art at university and she takes a keen interest in a wide range of subjects and issues, currently headed by matters of fabric care.

"We're taking the whole curtain apart, cleaning, putting special netting on the outside and generally repairing them. We had two days' training," she says, before adding, "NADFAS is wonderful."

I'm not sure how to convince more people from Torbay to join in, but I reckon I could offer Jean and Co some advice on how to spot a potential new recruit.

Simply go to an art gallery and hang around near one of the obscure paintings by someone no one's heard of. And, as soon as someone looks at it for more than five seconds, jump on them.