To the lighthouse…

There's a headland with a lighthouse on top of it in Waiting for Chicken Smith. I would take summer holidays near a headland like this and would spend a lot of time just looking out at the Pacific and watching sharks and dolphins and big surf hitting the rocks. Judging the swell, we would jump into the water and ride it back up onto a ledge of rock, grabbing hold of any geological life preserver we could reach. We'd sit at the foot of the lighthouse until the sun set behind us, and the light came on above, then we'd go home for dinner. More about the book.

From Waiting for Chicken Smith, Little Hare Books, 2018.

From Waiting for Chicken Smith, Little Hare Books, 2018.

waiting for chicken smith david mackintosh
Looking north over Fingal Head.
Fingal Head, from Dreamtime Beach on the south.
Fingal and it's surrounds. Photos © David Mackintosh/profuselyillustrated.

Fingal and it's surrounds. Photos © David Mackintosh/profuselyillustrated.

Tempus fugit…

Sandcastles can be very time consuming constructions. I read an article about what makes the best sandcastles. I thought the answer would be 'sand', but it turns out that you need a thousand things happening simultaneously to create the most structurally sound sandcastle. This is absurd because the best thing about sandcastles is having the tide come in and rend them asunder before your very eyes. You don't need them to withstand a tsunami or king tide. Who's got time for that?

I would decorate sandcastles with arrays of small and colourful shells. Pipi shells worked well if I wanted to make a statement somewhere. Then a spray of seaweed or a sand crab shell would be the cherry on the top. Tiny jellyfish made fine windows and added a little sparkle.

My childhood friend Jeremy would make elaborate sand cities alongside my simple bungalow. They were replete with freeways and broad rivers and lakes, airport runways and stadia. He'd bring real shovels and trowels from his holiday house for the excavation, and once I even saw him spraying water from a bottle with an atomiser attachment onto the surface of a tower he'd built. Then he carefully patted the surface down with the palms of his hands.

While Jeremy was doing this, I was in the surf. Then I was drying off on a towel in the sun and then I was at the milk bar eating chips with sauce and playing pinball.

At dusk, I looked down at the beach and I could just make out Jeremy's angry father marching him home, and I could just about hear Jeremy crying in the dark.

The next morning, Jeremy's castle was still standing and a shadow was starting to extend from the tallest of his many structures along the yellow sand. My bungalow and all its shells was long gone. More about the new book.

 

waiting for chicken smith david mackintosh
From Waiting for Chicken Smith, 2018.

From Waiting for Chicken Smith, 2018.

It sucked. Very much…

I had some book illustrations and book covers in an exhibition. There was a Visitors' Book at the door and writing comments on the show was encouraged. Children can be polite and brutally damning in equal measure. Some write what they think they should, others just seem polite, and then there's ones that, after looking at what everyone else has written, intentionally write the most extreme opposite just to make things interesting. These usually make the best reading. I'm talking about you, Jumping Jack Flash.

If I go to a museum, house, hotel, historical building or exhibition and am asked to sign such a book, I panic because I sometimes don't want people to know what I think. Just because I wasn't impressed by it shouldn't mean it should be recorded in my handwriting for eternity. I've been to museums where Visitors Books themselves are on exhibit to show what people have said about something or other 200 years ago. Or a hotel register showing that Napoleon or Neil Diamond or someone has stayed somewhere sometime. And people are worried about whether one's online presence can be erased.

A Piece From My Recollection…

I remember my Uncle Harry's car was like a lounge room. It had wide bench seats and you would move around inside it like you were in the Apollo Command Module on the way to the moon (no seat belts required). In the hot sun the vinyl seats would be ferociously hot and dangerous, so Uncle Harry and Aunt Agnes had a couple of scratchy beach towels in the back to lie over the seats to save the back of our legs. My Uncle always wore his collar buttoned, without a tie, even on the world's hottest day. We'd keep the windows down all the time and Uncle Harry didn't mind if you put your arms out in the slipstream. He was that kind of fellow.

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Chauffeuring Uncle Harry in his 1966 Holden HR station wagon.

Chauffeuring Uncle Harry in his 1966 Holden HR station wagon.

The under-one-tonne Dream Home…

After speaking with my friend's son, this is his idea of his Dream Home. It has to be on wheels, with a sofa with cushions and a wooden door. A round window would be ideal. I added the curtains for privacy, something he didn't think was that necessary. I also added the table because eating on one's lap is a bit messy plus he might want to work on something or other. He isn't that bothered about that. There's also a big screen TV that is visible from any point in the caravan: even the shower. When he's old enough to drive he can attach a car to the Dream Home and take it anywhere he wants to live. So long as he has a permit and registration. He said "that's fine with me". I told him that the Dream Home can't be any more than about 750kgs because towing it could be a problem. He suggested we take the cushions and curtains out. 

The unregistered Dream Home.

The unregistered Dream Home.

Waiting for Chicken Smith picture book trailer…

A short film trailer of my NEW picture book Waiting for Chicken Smith (Little Hare Books, 2018) is only a click away. Why wait?

Music by profuselyillustrated.com
with unsolicited musical direction by D. Franklyn Crane.

For your information…

Notes to Self are drawn in this book. And sometimes drawn off-site and transported by hand and fixed into the book under strong glue. Some are just loose inside the book and may never be affixed and may get lost in my flat. Sometimes a lot of thought is put into the drawing, and other times virtually none. Just like real thoughts. Looking through them, I can't tell which are which.

Coming soon to Notes to Self.

Coming soon to Notes to Self.