So, lovely little party; drinks on Friday, just a few of 'the girls'. Boy, was I looking forward to a bit of social...
It has been a hectic few weeks, starting classes means rehearsing dances and planning- plus a couple of commissions I'd rashly promised for the end of the month.
Yessir, get me out of the old painting smock-and-beret, and into something a little more sophisticated- something a grown-up might consider. something that doesn't sport a dollop of oil paint, pasta sauce, or mud.
Well. I woke somewhat painfully this morning, the memory of me drunkenly announcing- completely out of the blue- to a group of well-to-do and well educted women 'And I got a pasta machine for £3.50 from Boots!'
Ye gods.
Climbing the dizzy intellectual heights once more- someone just lever that wineglass out of my hand and show me the way to the kettle.
Or just keep me in my studio, where I can't hurt myself, or other people.
Crowds can watch from a safe distance, at feeding time.
ho hum.
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