Oh Goodness, What A Quiet Day

Yesterday I took the painting to the Ross Family. There are five offspring between the ages of 23 and 11, Mum and Dad and a photo of Grandma. I was very happy and very nervous to hand it over, not only because they all might go "Uuuug, it's horrible and you are a charletan" but because the green grass paint wasn't dry and made long green lines on anything it touched. Like my black trousers. I just gave an amused shrug and said "Hey, it's what we artists have to put up with." I just hoped they would not go near the wet bits. The painting lay flat on bubble wrap on their dining room table, and will remain there until the blinking green paint dries. It is all part of the mystery.

However, I returned home here to 15 year old boy who was determined that 12 year old boy had faked his whole food poisoning episode. And he wants to be a counsellor. "You just want attention with this food poisoning lark. Admit it. Admit it now. I know. There, you feel better don't you. That will be £20.00"

And today, I feel like someone has taken my bones away. I droop over all the furniture, and gaze longingly at the larder and fridge wishing meals would make themselves and present themselves to me. I can barely finish a sentence and the thought of running makes me enter a deep melancholy. A black pit. This evening I am meeting some more delightful people who want a Jesus on the Tube. I only hope I can pass as normal, and finish sentences and not gaze vacantly at their forheads as they tell me what they want. I really want to do well for this family, it is important they get exactly what they want. Maybe they are confering now together, and saying worriedly "Oh I hope Antonia Rolls isn't a dynamic and jolly person. I do hope she sits listlessly leaning slightly sideways and stares into space and doesn't really seem all there. That is the kind of artist we want to do our picture. It would be very good too, thought too much to hope for, if she could drool slightly out of one of the sides of her mouth which is slack. We would feel better to be received like this."

Tomorrow is another day. If I give in to my inertia today, then probably tomorrow I will be filled with witty incisive conversation, and get things done before they even need doing. Amen.