A cracking day Gromit!

It's as if a dark cloud has moved away... I have felt the Spring air within my veins, filling me with optimism. Be careful girl, being forever an Optimist usually means being continually disappointed! But... something is happening to move me forward. It must be coming from within and heralds the start of yet another phase, or service station along the highway of recovering grief. I went for a long swim last night; the first time in two weeks after seeing and looking after various family over Easter. Whether it's because I look happier, walk straighter, smile more or just because I'm becoming more scatty - I received a few smiles and hello's from people I hardly know. One big man turned around and gave me a smile, as I turned around to have a second look! It's funny how Spring affects us all!

Today I went into Oxford to visit an Art Exhibition of local artists, (my ex-art tutor being one of the (pardon the phrase), exhibitionists. Most exhibits were not to my taste, but all were on sale for around £350 a piece. Not bad. However, all exhibitors belong to the prestigious Oxford Art Society, and to become a member is no easy task.

I leisurely browsed around the shops in a happy, detached frame of mind, as only a single person can do, not having to worry about the evening meal, school shoes or making the beds. I then strolled through alleyways looking for a place to eat lunch... (a special treat to myself to mark the change in my persona and mental state). All looked tacky, or full or just not with a menu for my mood. I ended up at 'Browns' in St Giles; a place my dearly departed had first taken me to lunch thirteen years' ago. I had a great table at the back and a very attentive waiter called John who fetched me a newspaper, water, wine and tempted me to try the day's special - Sea bream. It was all so good and delicious. I left, not feeling sad at being there on my own without my lovely man, but at peace.

This evening I sat on the garden swing with my cat as the sun went down. If all my days from now on are this good, then I shall be a lucky lady.

Easter magic

The grounds at Blenheim Palace are exceptional, and this year has received an RHS award. It's good to know that the magical designs of Lancelot (Capability) Brown have been preserved and enhanced after all these years by the various Dukes of Marlborough. Our favourite spot was a bench in the Secret Garden, watching the babbling brook speed by as we ate our picnic. We'd already been inside the Palace twice; done the guided Tour, then the Churchill exhibition, and then the 'Untold Story'. All good stuff! A second visit on Easter Weekend meant we could walk around the whole Park and Pleasure gardens. I was beginning to think I was getting really old by enjoying country houses and parks, but my twelve-year old granddaughter loved it too!

What's really good this year is the fact that Spring seems to be a 'proper' Spring - sunshine and showers! I'm more like my 'old' self this year... not so much deep mournful thinking. I'm carrying my grief better... more like an unobtrusive back-pack than a big heavy suitcase. I seem to be smiling more, listening more and finding amusement in silly things! Then again, it could be premature dementia creeping in.

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?