Half the year gone; a heap of good intentions with it; still,a brief review of activities and I'm making a new list: Expend less energy on unimportant things; worry less; speak my mind more; ask more questions...
I have prised myself away from a neurotic surge of house-cleaning,begun in anticipation of weekend visitors; their imminent arrival has woken the dozing inner-critic (the one that wears marigolds and knows how to iron). I know if I listened, I would have the luxury of casting a casual hand about me, as I say 'Welcome', graciously; some cushion-placing and gleaming floorboards framing my illusion of domesticity and contentment; I may even have baked a cake- but, darn it, can we not leave the critics chatting in the front room, dismayed at the black marks on the wall behind the coal shovel, and we can frolic on the heath? Go paint-balling? Paint our toenails...?
It's been a grand couple of months; I've assisted in some of the organisation at a festival, organised burlesque workshops and a cabaret, taught classes, painted some, written less, but, after all that, I'm back at the Co-op, chewing my lip over the guilt of the purchase of a bottle of radioactive-green, kill everything, shine everything product, to de-gunk the entire house, and wondering when I'll fit in that essential 'big shop' this week. Sarah doesn't need this head, Sarah needs 'let's build a shrine in the garden' 'let's go out and walk in the hills', 'I know the picture I have to paint...'
Where is this head? Did I leave it in the green room at The Maltings? At St Abb's Head on the longest day? At the illustrator's exhibition at The gymnasium Gallery? If anyone does find it, will they please return it, it has much, much more fun than this one does...