Monday 24 August 2009

I Knew Monday Morning Was Coming And I Am Prepared For It

Yes. I am in control. This Monday is a doddle; Art? Yes, of course. When do you want it by? And How many? Plans? Pah! Had them drawn up before dawn. Get-Up-And-Go I have by the Bucket Load. World Domination? Only a matter of time. Give me till tea time, check back with me then.

I sit fresh and perky in my clean studio. The tea in the teapot is absolutely at the right temperature and the teacosy suits my mood. Neon pink and fluffy. Outside, what if the sky is grey and there is a feeling of rain in the air? I can smell the sea, fresh, clean and exciting, like me. My garden has been tamed and brushed and combed yesterday by Alan, 12 Year Old Son and me. There is order here and there is, on quite a few levels, A Job Well Done.

On Thursday the little piece on my Art Sessions For The Nervous that I wanted to go into our local paper went in, and was just right. That felt good, and I was amazed at how straight forward it all was. And the photo was very flattering which made me think I must get a hair appointment and have my hair dyed the colour the photo made it. And on Saturday my next two canditates for the Art Sessions arrived and were not only terribly intelligent and good company, but were good at what they decided to do. I thoroughly enjoyed having them and cleaned and hoovered my studio up before they came, making me realise that I must keep it tidier, as it looked bigger and more exciting without all the wood shavings and paint blobs on the floor and walls and ceiling and chairs and windows and so on.

We ate our lunch outside in my garden on Saturday. I laid the food and drink out on the trampoline and we sat on kitchen chairs in my overgrown garden in the sun. I even put a jug of flowers on the trampoline to make it more sophisticated. I think it worked.

On Sunday Alan, 12 Year Old Son and I transformed my garden from a Rousseau jungle to a pleasant green and tranquil place of repose. I can now get to the trampoline and hammock without a stick to beat the vegitation aside. I can see the flowers in the pots I placed around the studio. I don't need to send a child out to find the garden gate first with a map and compass, I can see it now. And what's more, I can open it.

Add to this, an email from another journalist who is interested in my Jesus on the Tube painting for his magazine. And a possible offer to take the Steve Exhibition to Manchester. And a wonderful harrowing beautiful painting I did on Friday of Steve in his final bath, 3 days before he died. All his bones showing through his skin and his face trying to remember where he was. And a list of the Every Day Angels I want to paint for the other exhibition in November - I am so ready for today. This Monday is, as they say in the Carry On films, An Absolute Hoot.

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