Commuting to work and scribbles in moleskine.

Back to the drawing board today. Woken early by nightmare about plane crash, then up to the studio to play with roughs. Today I felt like commuting to work, so parked the car at Whitesands and walked home. The sky is the clearest blue, so beautiful, with no trails from planes anywhere, and though I understand that it must be so frustrating for people who want to fly, so aweful for people who have saved to go away, the sky does look very beautiful. And people at Heathrow who live under the flightpaths must have had their first good nights sleep for years. Today the sky looks like it would have looked when my great grandparents and grandparents looked up.

 Halfway home, clear blue.

 Playing with hand drawn type.

A swarm of bees in May

Is worth a load of hay

Doodle do......

There was an old woman tossed up in a basket seventy times as high as the moon. Where she was going I couldn't but ask it, for in her hand she carried a broom.

Tomorrow I hope to pick up a brush and paint.
On the beach today, wind and rain, sand and feather, a sad tideline of plastic beads.

At home, Martha decided to do a 'Durer's cat' impression. Very good.

Nursery rhyme time

My brain is waterlogged by all the rain falling from the sky. Rain slides down the windows, hammers on the roof, flows down the roads.
Nursery rhyme time. When I was little I had a book, bought for me as a present by the lady next door whose name was Ann.  I was so young that although I could write I couldn't spell my own name. I loved it, with its odd, wide eyed children.

 Some days I struggle to find focus, to settle to work. This is one of those days.