I date my writing in my sketchbook
I date my writing in my sketchbook and I use a dash to separate different notes for the same day. Sometimes they make one thread and sometimes they don’t, so in the spirit of this I’m going to write a bit of this ‘weekly’ post day by day.
Its taken a few months but my studio is now my favourite room in the flat.
There’s a fox that frequents the overgrown garden beneath me and for a while today, we were both sitting and looking about us and enjoying the early feel of spring in the air. I stopped at licking my bum though.
I’m listening to a new audio CD in my studio, this time Girls, Pearls and Monty Bodkin by PG Wodehouse, read by Jonathon Cecil. Unfortunately he’s making a big deal out of the English accent so I’m hearing dialogue that sounds as though it is coming out of a mouth buried under an overgrown moustache, a strong impersonation I’m sure, but less melodious.
Apparently brown parcel paper is not the same anywhere you go. I have previously admitted that I’ve had doubts about the colour, size and texture of the paper that I’m drawing my inventory on. Now that 40 quite pleasing drawings are covering two walls of my studio and having run out of paper stock, I find I’m attached to the original as if it is my only friend.
Why isn’t there a comment for Thursday?
Lesson of the day: three starters make a main course, as my subsequently, practically uneaten, main course proved.
After planning what we were going to do today, Danny was going out with his camera while I was planning to do an all over drawing of about 100 screws and fittings in my studio, we both agreed that pivotal to our plans, was that we wake up and get out early.
Which was why it was disheartening, if not predictable, when we woke up at twenty past eleven.