Monday April 28, 2008
I just finished doing the journal files for February 2005, a task that was made tedious by the failure in mid-stream of the new WordPress multiple file upload feature, leaving me with about three-quarters of the pictures uploaded but no idea of which ones had been missed. Not only does that turn the job into a stop-start process but it also prevents the creation of a ‘gallery’ to show off the pictures. Shame, that, ‘cos there’s some good stuff in there. Well, interesting, anyway. My favourite of them is this watercolour I dug out of an old art-school portfolio:
The house viewing took place on time at 14:30 on Saturday. One of the three of them, agent, wife, husband, was wearing some kind of repulsively organic hand-cream that stuck to my hand-shake obstinately through three hand-washes. Took a good scrub with carbolic soap to get rid of it. The agent came back shortly after they’d left to assure me he’d “get back to me on Monday” to let me know the outcome of the viewing. He hasn’t done so yet, at mid-day, and I’m not holding my breath.
The remainder of Saturday went well, and Monday morning started out well enough. Then, about ten o’clock, I got hit with an attack of the irresitable wearies, and went back to bed until it was time to go fetch Graham back from the holiday camp, his weekend stint done. Next weekend is to be a full week, with the Return of the Trannies. Rather him than me.
February 2005 was the last time I had an intensive attack of the painting kind, working in watercolour. I haven’t checked yet, but I think it went on into March and April, too. It was a slack time on the poetry front for me then, too, just as it has been this past couple of months, and I’d turned deliberately to painting as a way out of the creative block. Funny thing is that, unless my muse wakes from her winter sleep pretty damn quick, I shall do the same thing now. I have my painting stuff all looked out and ready.