Category Archives: paintings

I had until tonight to do whatever I wanted to do paint-wise before my mom and co descend upon the house for Christmas fun, fighting and cleared-up surfaces. Co consists of Tyronne (brother) Teresa (may-as-well-be-sister-in-law), Lyndall (you know Lyndall!) and her Greg (the sharp guy who Ideal Brown wants for his own). That’s if they can get here.

Awards for Most Neurotic (Gold and Silver) will go to my mother and I believe I follow a close second. (clasped hand air-shaking on either side of my head, right here). The rest are fairly laid-back and have very much a what-will-be-will-be attitude.

It seems unfair then that my mom’s flight is meant to be BA from Heathrow. After booking a back-up bus (oh god, please don’t let my mom be on the roads!) she threw in the towel, heeded the televised begging to refrain from relying on the airline and booked train tickets instead.

Co fly from Stanstead, which I believe is still operating at a decent level of service.

Meanwhile I’ve familiarised myself with Nigella’s face and ass and have been book-marking potato-roasting how-to’s and learning trifle-making two point oh.

All in all, although there have been no solo shows this year, it’s been by far my most knackering.

At work our department went from 4 to 2 in a startlingly small amount of time and the arguably less experienced, youngest team members have been left holding the ball(s).

Coming home to paint at night has been almost impossible, so when I got about as close to finished as can be on a canvas I started in February, I performed a small jig that ended in flipping off the air in general (which actually left me feeling a bit confused…I don’t know why I did it and to make matters worse, my pajama bottoms had begun to fall about my arse, giving me a nappy-bum)

I think I feel a bit triumphant that I still squashed in some painting around one fuck of a job. It’s physically demanding, chaps.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I’ve been absolutely toilet with emails. If I’ve neglected to respond to anyone, I’m very sorry. If it would make you feel any better, I fall asleep with my dinner still halfway down my gullet every night.

So yeah. I hope you’re all going to have a very merry Christmas and a sterling New Year. Me? I’ll be trying to get my family to let me watch the Misfits Christmas special (oh yes!)

Here’s a partial shot of my most time consuming painting ever, EVER.
There are just a few little white touch-ups that are needed, and then presto!

I can’t show it in full just yet, but it will be off to Copro for March next year.

6 years ago today I arrived in London with Lyndall. I can’t remember arriving at the airport or getting on the tube at all. Not at all, which is really strange for me.

My first memory is of getting on a bus in Clapham Common and heading to Brxiton to drop off our 20 kilos of luggage. That’s the amount of Life you’re allowed to immigrate with.

We had to get our mobile phones sorted out, so Lyndall’s first taste of London was the Brixton branch of Virgin Mobile, after which my mom took us to LIDL to show us how they sold food with a shelf life straight out of cardboard boxes. She laughed a lot and looked younger than when I’d last seen her, which was reassuring and nice.

Then we went to Boots to buy umbrellas. I can’t remember the rest, but I’m sure it involved lots of tea and chocolate digestives.

It took me and Lyndall an hour to catch our first bus. We were floored by trying to figure out which side of the road we were meant to be on (given we had no real destination) and the alternating Route Masters and modern buses had us stumped as to which end to of the vehicle to board. It was embarrassing and funny and cold, but mostly embarrassing.

The first time we did a grocery shop, we argued about getting cheap coffee. I was for it, Lyndall was not. She won, of course. The 27p we spent on Asda Own Brand coffee was a complete waste. We ate a lot of soup, shared our first tin of ravioli and spent a lot of time pouring over the papers wondering if we should finally just take the leap and find out what it is employers want when they advertise for “Vibrant! Fun! Young People! With Ambition!”

Jesus, when I really think about it, time doesn’t fly at all. And for the record, I’ve noticed that ATMs are issuing £5 notes; something Lyndall and I would’ve loved 6 years ago. I still have a Lloyds card with £8.38 on it that I couldn’t access or spend. The account is so low-grade that I couldn’t use it to pay in-store and no, by this time I wouldn’t have earned any interest on it at all.

So anyway, this is the year I can apply for citizenship! And when I get it, I’m going to throw a Great British party, with Union Jack bunting, cucumber sandwiches and cake. I’d like to have Mr Kipling there as an honorary guest. We’ll get tragically drunk. With flowers in our hair and other people’s spit on our shoes.