Saturday October 2, 2004
“Hoo boy, Harry,” I said. “I think I might be going about this the wrong way.”
“Yeah. In a minute. What I mean is I don’t think I can build an abstract in my head in one go and drop it onto the canvas. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, yes, I’ll be with you in a minute. Perhaps I should do it Utrillo-style and then see if the abstract will follow.”
“Yup. You’re right, let’s go see if there’s any Carnation Milk left in that can.”
“Sorry. Normal service is about to be resumed.”
So Harry Cat got his snack, and I got to stand at the kitchen window looking out at the sky. For a long time.”
Then I took up my brand new tube of Mars Black, squeezed a blob of lovely juicy acrylic onto the pallette and commenced the task of messing up both the canvas and my overly-neat painting station.
A long time later I was interrupted by an enquiring “Prrrrrooow?” I was just about to chide Harry for being greedy when I glanced at the clock. Ouch! A very good slice of the day had gone, I’d missed out on my lunch, and, sure enough, it was time to wash up, give Harry yet another snack—he’s at the age where he needs to eat very little and very often—and find something for my own long-suffering tummy.
I sat over a plate of bubble and squeak topped with two fried eggs and contemplated the canvas, all blocked out and ready for colour.
“You know what, Harry?”
“I think I’m going to enjoy this painting lark again.”
Munching happily, and wiping the egg yolk from my chin, I responded. “Oh, sure. After we’ve had a nap, that is.”