Couldn’t resist, on the way to the recycling bin with an old loo roll.


Couldn’t resist, on the way to the recycling bin with an old loo roll.


It’s been a blast of a week, with the Interim Show and then the Low Residency. Spending time with like-minded people in an environment of creativity, away from the humdrum of everyday life. And now I’m home, and struggling to get back into the swing of things. I haven’t posted on here for almost a fortnight, which is unusual for me. There is so much to think about and process. I’m not sure where to begin.
In the meantime, I’ve been trying to get on with tasks which don’t require much thought. Today I took the dogs for a walk in some woods which I haven’t been to for a while. It’s predominantly a beech wood. I love beech trees, even when they are leafless. It won’t be long until the bluebells are out and most of the floor of the wood is carpeted in blue, or is it purple? In the meantime, the primroses make me smile. A gentle reminder that time is passing. Maybe my motivation will return tomorrow…



We had a friend to stay at the weekend, so we took her to Jane Austen’s House which is less than half an hour away from where we live. It’s the 250th anniversary of her birth this year, and so there are lots of Austen celebrations happening to mark the occasion. She, together with her sister, Cassandra, and her mother lived in the village of Chawton, in one of the houses on the Chawton Estate, which was owned by one of her six brothers as his country residence. He had been adopted by a wealthy couple who were very distant relations, and who didn’t have a male heir.
My husband, who had been a bit reluctant to go as he hadn’t read any Austen and thought her writing a bit girlie, enjoyed himself. She’s far from girlie, I told him: she had an ascerbic wit and was a keen observer of human nature. I picked up a fancy edition of ‘Pride & Prejudice’ in the obligatory gift shop, and told him to read the first few lines; he laughed, I laughed, Alexa laughed, Siri laughed.
I discovered two interesting facts. Firstly, that many wealthy families were heirless, and so hunted around on the peripheries of their family trees for a suitable candidate who would inherit, but on the condition that he changed his family name to that of the bequeathing couple. Sometimes there were no suitable candidates and a daughter would inherit as in the case of Elizabeth Knight who inherited her parents’ estate at Chawton and Godmersham in Kent in 1702. Because of the size of her estates she had a raft of voting rights in Parliament, but was unable to exercise them, because she was a woman. A formidable woman at that, and thought to be the inspiration for Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Pride & Prejudice.
The second fact was that markings were often made next to vulnerable areas of a house, where evil spirits could enter e.g. doorways, chimneys, windows etc. They were called witches’ marks and ranged from daisy wheels to the letters V and M, possibly signifying the Virgin Mary. There was one such mark by a fireplace at Chawton.

Talking to Cat in yesterday’s session about her recent performance, and the drawing of a pentagram, reminded me of the rich tradition of mark-making as a form of protection.
I’ve been thinking about my discussion with Jonathan; about the ideas I have, and his advice that I should record them in this blog to remind me of them in the future. I find it easier to scroll quickly through the blog than sift through bits of paper, or flick through sketchbooks trying to find them.
I had an unexpected opportunity to start the process this morning. One of the good things about getting older is that you start being called in for regular tests and health reviews. I’m in the process of one such MOT – I have had my bloods done; liver function OK I noted from my NHS app (which seems to be filling up with more and more of my records everyday) and Type II Diabetes is still a way away so that’s good news for both my gin collection and my stash of chocolate. Cholesterol is a bit on the high side, but then it always has been – it’s all that good cholesterol, or so I keep telling myself – but there’s no getting away from the fact that women of my age are at an increased risk of heart attack. I’m starting to think that I’m a hypochondriac who is obsessed with death, but really I think that I have quite a positive outlook on life.
Anyway, for some reason I got a message on my phone yesterday notifying me of an appointment this morning for an ECG. Maybe it was a follow up to my cholesterol levels? They don’t even phone you nowadays I thought to myself – imagine if I hadn’t seen the notification? Anyway, long story short, when I arrived at the surgery after having rushed because I thought that I would be late, heart pumping a bit too quickly just before an ECG I thought to myself, it turns out that it was an admin error and it had been meant for someone else. I was out of bed now, so I might as well go and have a quiet stimulating coffee before heading back home.
So I did, and I did some thinking, made some notes and made a quick mind scribble when I got back home. It feels a bit like just having put the children to bed – I know where they are, and they’re safe.

Said my husband as I was trying to cook dinner this evening. With a sigh I carried the onion I was about to peel into his office, where he told me to sit down, because I was going to like this.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/videos/c1dg9zr0xelo
Give him his due, Hockney is not one to rest on his laurels, and a generous soul to boot, sharing his process. Do I have to make dinner? I’d rather have a go on Procreate now…