The Australian winner of the screen print competition has received his prize and has displayed it like a peacock. Congratulations!
Photograph by D. Trollip.
I don't remember drawing that…
The Very Hungry Memorial…
I was at a school to give a talk to a group of children and noticed this.
The windows were covered with children's drawings and works of art too: you could barely see the outside world. There were things made of newspaper and string hanging down from the ceiling and glittery paper plates as far as the eye could see.
Over the years, I've learned that teachers habitually attach things to walls at jaunty angles to give rooms some kind of dynamic that squared-up attachments just can't offer. I like how the children's project has upstaged the professor's years of service to the sunday school, but I immediately felt like I should at least do something to correct this for the sake of his legacy. Maybe I could lower the poster just a few millimetres if I stood on a chair? Just then, the doors opened and the children streamed in and – once again – the professor was (momentarily) forgotten.
The truth can now be told.
Don't wrap it up, I'll wear it out of the shop…
Perfect for a trip in the countryside, this outfit is made from hardwearing, dyed suede. The hat is felt and the boots are the best Tuscan calfskin. The gloves are kid. If I were fashionable I'd certainly wear this as a driving costume. I didn't design this outfit, but it has inspired me to think of my own clothes designs. I never thought I could do it, I really didn't. And after a few attempts I am convinced that I can't and most importantly MUST NOT. I had the same experience with sculpture a few years ago. I will leave it to the experts.
I would look much taller and slimmer, and it would take 5 years off.
Happy Birthday Jacqueline!
My sister in the dress she made herself. (I buy strictly off-the-peg).
It's not designed for that…
Birds using the playground equipment in central London park. They're very patient and well behaved.
According to the sundial we can go in now…
A copy of Waiting for Chicken Smith has arrived. This one is shown in Italy where it is hot and sunny as in the book itself. Unlike the story, this copy is a long way from the seaside (120kms). The nearest body of water here is only a few metres away, however diving is forbidden and you must wait at least an hour after you've eaten before you can get in. It's far too hot for that.
No running, diving, splashing, loud behaviour and definitely no eating in the pool.
Plants of the apes…
These plants surround a swimming pool in Piedmont and are beautiful. Bees use them and if you are having a swim, they will attack you. We have to dive under the water to avoid these Italian bees. They live here and we are visitors so have to respect their space. There is a particularly scary looking black bumble-type bee (a carpenter bee) that appears like the Darth Vader of beeland. We talk about how it would be bad enough to be stung by the ordinary European bees, but if that big one got you you'd be dead. The lavender is what the big ones prefer so I walk back to the house to avoid the lavender at all costs.
If you look closely you'll hear bees…
Is this your hat?…
In Italy, the house we stayed in was bristling with trophies. Ibex, I thought. Plus deer, goats, and other things. I remember being told antlers fall off, and horns don't. I lay in fear of antlers dropping off the wall and onto my head, but none did. They just hung there like memorials of anonymous dead animals, making terrifying shadows across the ceiling.
"I love to go to the zoo. But not on Sunday. I don't like to see the people making fun of the animals, when it should be the other way around." Ernest Hemingway