What the hell!

I've decided to stick with 'wet on wet' - it gives a much better finish... surreal, ethereal, and just magical! I no longer give a damn about what art tutors say... my style is my style... so there!

Having spent the last three weeks in agony with yet another slipped disc... the same disc that keeps slipping out of position, and spending most of my time flat on my back on the living room floor, I've decided that I don't give a flying fart what others think I should or should not be painting, doing, thinking or whatever. This representation is the latest in my final art class offerings. I shall now proceed with my own style and format and no longer spend a lot of money on art classes that don't agree with me!

Upon recovering from back ache, (in the extreme), I have spent today walking from Stonesfield to the Roman Villa remains and back again with fellow 'Militant Tendency' friends who, like me belonged to a well-known organisation called the Green Gym' who didn't deal with a bully and didn't acknowledge us or back us up when we needed it. We are now an independent good group of women who have found a way of enjoying weekly outings together, having lunches, picnics and get-to-gethers without spending too much money, yet having a ball together!

We had our picnic, on a bench, overlooking a Roman Villa that was built in year 4 AD for a very important Roman Aristocrat. The views and setting were spectacular. The Roman invaders certainly picked the best spots. The lambs were bleating for their mothers in the neighbouring pastures; the blue sky was interspersed with cotton wool balls of clouds and the gentle breeze was warm across our faces as we ate. I could almost feel the presence of a Roman woman walking by.

I really must start painting from real life settings... if only I had the confidence!

A swinging time on Mothers' day

I'd planned for everyone (all my daughters and various partners) to help move my garden swing when they all arrived on Mothers' Day weekend. Having been a Management Development person in the past, I knew that tasks were needed to bring together my four lovely daughters after 16 years of animosity. Just like teambuilding, it worked! The swing was moved, but not without difficulty, trellis' were put up on walls and paving slabs laid, while I hobbled around with a healing slipped disc. All my grandchildren ran around at the same time and all of us contributed to the big family meal. It was a success! And at no point was anyone sent to their room for being naughty! Not even me!

Having been laid low, or flat, with a slipped disc for the last fortnight, it was good to be upright and moving again, albeit painfully. Lots of photos were taken, champagne was opened and there were many funny moments. Only one or two awkward moments when a sibling-like remark could've sparked off World War Three. Perhaps siblings always remain so... perhaps there is a constant need for one-upmanship among siblings? Especially among four very attractive and competitive daughters.

Sixteen years has been a long time in waiting. Pity my lovely man wasn't here with me for this momentous occasion.

Even with my daughters here, I still felt lonely. When they all left, I sat on my swing, a G&T in one hand, a cat by my side, (gripping on for dear life as I swung to and fro), and a sun setting in a clear blue sky. A good day.

A matter of perspective

I really must enrol on a drawing course... it is apparent that I don't always get things in the right perspective, and as yet, I don't know the tricks of the trade. The tutor at tonight's art class came around us all, viewing our sketches before we began applying paint... he said mine was very well sketched. However, later, once I'd added a considerable amount of paint, he said I hadn't managed to get the lines in the right perspective. I couldn't help but think, why the hell didn't he tell me when he first came to assess my sketch... too bloody late now! I mustn't blame him, but the teacher in me shouts out that putting students on the right path straight away is everything! He also said my shadows were done differently to how he'd have done them. I used wet-on-wet, he would've used dry on dry! Personally I prefer wet rather than dry, every time!

Ah well, I must keep trying, and as Winston Churchill once said, 'when I die, I will spend the first million years painting, in the hope of getting to the bottom of it.'

Looking in vain

I have browsed through pages and pages of houses for sale and not one matched up to the one I already have. There was one I liked... detached, Cotswold stone, village location, conservatory, large garden, three bedrooms etc., if only I had three quarters of a million pound! Oxfordshire and even the edge of the Cotswolds is far too pricey!

Funnily enough, the neighbours have suddenly become very quiet... perhaps they've realised at last that I am probably the best neighbour they've ever had... I don't mean to sound conceited, but I never complain, and when the subject of banging doors was brought up by my neighbour some months' ago, I didn't get arsey, but just smiled and agreed that they could be noisy at times, which was accepted with smiles and an apology. I may have to wait a while before moving, but I have decided that move I shall - one day! Meanwhile I shall keep looking for the ideal home for me and my cats.

I'm very restless at the moment and getting despondent that this is going to be another year the same as the last three! Jobless and lost. With no obvious purpose to my life, just a few pleasant hobbies and a few new female acquaintances. It's as if I'm waiting for something to happen. Maybe this is yet another stage in the long road of grief... being lost, as well as alone. Wanting to move on and do something with my life, but despite trying different avenues, getting nowhere. So, I shall decorate the spare bedroom... at least I'll be doing something!

Restless in West Oxfordshire

I am thinking more and more about moving... finding a house that's every bit as good as the one I've got, but with a longer, more private garden. Somewhere detached without the continuous slamming of neighbours' doors; without the damage to my property by neighbours' teenage boys and their friends; the ability to park my car without manoeuvring around the parked cars of neighbours' friends and families' cars; and to be able to enjoy the privacy and tranquillity that comes with having one's own patch of land that is not overlooked. Am I asking too much? While I have a lovely home, I am not entirely happy here. What to do? It's a big decision and a costly one. The first step is to get my house valued and to look on the web to see what's available. The good part of all this is that I don't have to move.

Am I being Restless or Reckless?

Hiding and Lost, or maybe a senior moment?

My cat thinks she is safe and invisible under the bare branches of the Kilmarnock Willow... a place she often escaped to last summer. I think it's because she's getting on a bit in cat years, and has started to have senior moments.

I too, hide when I can't face anyone, or can't be bothered to put on a happy smiley face to neighbours who don't understand my low moments. I hide indoors, put on my favourite music, get some incense burning, make myself a cappuccino and lately, paint something arty. When the back seizes up from sitting down too long, I put on Shania Twain and dance around the living room, doing various back-strengthening exercises while my cat looks at me as if I am having a senior moment.

Three and a half years down the line, I find my sense of humour has returned, albeit slightly more off-beat than I remember. When in London with daughters and grandchildren last week, one of the little treasures got lost in the Natural History museum. Instead of going into a panic, I found it highly amusing that the one child who always sticks to his mum like glue and never takes chances or risks, ended up getting lost somewhere between the great blue whale and the tourist shop. Not the response of a loving grandparent I hear you mutter. I suppose I knew that sooner or later he would be taken to wherever they gather lost children and someone over the tanoid system would call for his mother. I couldn't help but giggle on and off on the bus ride home to Oxford. It may have been another senior moment, or the fact that someone getting temporarily lost is not half as bad as losing someone permanently.

Continuing a theme...

I sorted through lots of photos of my garden flowers, found some of poppies and painted a clutch of them for my latest offering. I still can't get my head around there being either very detailed watercolour artwork, or, as I've been told by both recent tutors, that not too much detail is to be used. Having googled 'watercolour art' several times, I am amazed at what comes back. They vary from fuzzy blended impressions to very fine detailed work depending on the style of the artist.

Knowing when to stop has always been a problem with me, whether it be gardening, shopping, talking, eating, sex or painting. Due to current finances, shopping and eating have been drastically reduced; gardening is out of bounds until the warmer weather; I have few people to talk to (hence the blog), so that just leaves sex and painting - one of which is totally off the menu.

For the forthcoming week I shall be caring for and entertaining various grandchildren and daughters leaving no time or energy for painting. I may not be blogging or painting for a while as I need to security protect my computer and hide all paints; batten down hatches, hide the cats and get the germalene and antiseptic wipes ready. Now I must think about what to do with them all that doesn't cost the earth.