15 Nov

In the seventies, there were only ever three flavours of anything. And one of them was always “plain”. You got salt and vinegar, cheese and onion and plain crisps. Rasberry ripple, strawberry and plain ice cream. There were four channel buttons on the telly, but you only got three channels, and BBC2 was definitely the plain one.
Anything a bit above your station in life was like pistachio ice cream or tomato sauce flavoured crisps; just a little bit suspect and not something to be encouraged. The idea of life drawing existed, but only as a vague rumour, slightly scandalous and somehow connected to The Big City, or worse, France.
I think I’m still a bit stuck in that mindset. To this day I refuse to acknowledge that there’s anything other than coffee coffee and won’t order a latte or capuwotsitsname. There’s coffee, tea and plain, which is water. Pronounce with a hard ‘a’, obviously.
However, I’m trying and today broke away from my comfort zone and tried paints for the first time in twenty odd years. Not that paints themselves were ever frowned upon, as long as they were for walls and were plain coloured. I’m quite pleased with the result. I couldn’t get the sari right, I’d need more time and I could have done with a larger space to draw. Maybe next time I’ll take an easel, and possibly a beret and a flask of some Big City coffee.

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Posted by on November 15, 2011 in Uncategorized


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