oh dear...

Health camp: fail!
Boot camp: fail!
Exhibition proposal ready to send? Gone to be proofed in Australia. (Pretty please?) It's a Google documents first for me; here's hoping it is successful way of communicating.

No exercise today, unless walking around the city counts.

The diet?
Last night, Italian followed by a Scottish supper.
Today, a huge afternoon tea in town followed by Mexican for dinner.

But... today I discovered (thanks Kate and Alice) "Shaun the Sheep". Wonderful. I think we are now watching about episode five for the evening...

And the doors and windows... can't wait until they are installed :-) Exciting times!

Today I am grateful for helping hands from friends and family.

patience rewarded...

My doors and windows are on their way! I can't wait to see the difference they will make to the house. (Let's not think about the dust, the noise of installing them or covering or moving the furniture, much better to think of latches that close properly, double glazing, locks that are secure).

I failed on the exercise routine today, mutiny at boot camp but I was well looked after at health camp. Now to see if I can have some treatment to set all to rights and I'll be on top of the world again ;)

Tonight's meal was Chinese... around the world in cuisine, that's the way to travel!

This evening we watched a very poignant film, made special as it was all done in animated watercolour paintings. The music was also gently edgy, not quite sad, not always beautiful, but always pretty. (Don't click on the link if you don't want to know the story ahead of seeing the film). Silvain Chomet's "The Illusionist" based on a screenplay by Jaques Tati was in effect both a farewell to Vaudeville and a lovesong to Edinburgh. The painted backdrops are delightful, and watching it with folk who know the buildings well added to the appreciation of the artists involved in the production. It was well worth watching for the art and the music alone.

Today I am grateful for cherry and cinnamon tea.

food, glorious food...

Monday evening Italian pizza
Tuesday evening chicken and salad
Wednesday evening Japanese
Thursday evening Indian
And tomorrow? Thai? Chinese? Or vegetarian shepherds pie?

Yesterday a 4 mile walk then later another half mile walk to the train.
Today I managed only 3.5 miles.
Tomorrow it's hot pools...

My wonderful red goretex rain jacket bought in NZ for cycling in Italy has been doing great service in all sorts of places.

Today I am grateful for being able to sleep in.

you call that a walk?

Honestly mum, you have bathed us, poked syringes of medicine between our gritted teeth, and generally been less than kind today. Then you go out for dinner, come home latish, and all we get is a short walk around the village?

There were all those new blue poles to sniff at and pee on. There were cats by the rubbish bin. With all the new folk in town for the summer there was rubbish escaping from the bins. And you PUT US IN THE CAR and drove us down the road to walk back? Why couldn't you leave the car where it was? Would it have mattered if the doorbell had rung and you had to move it early in the morning so they could put up the festa lights? Sleep in? What's that?

OK, so we walked up and down the village first, checking out where the red and white tape was. And you could have just left us at home while you moved the car.

And you do look stunning in that fluoro vest you know.

Maybe we'll stop complaining...

For now


Today we are grateful that Mum walks us, sometimes!

showing her strength

When I close the garden gate and get out the bath tub two little dogs do their best to make themselves invisible. Water? You've got to be kidding. It's wet!

Zacchi, however, is well accustomed to my tune "This is what love looks like" and having made his obligatory attempt to hide from me he growls at my approach, allows me to lift him into the tub, and growls again. When I take his collar off though, he stays in the tub, pretending to hate it but I suspect loving the attention.

As soon as he is rinsed down I lift him out and he stands, glowering, knowing that he looks absolutely hilarious and not at all the "dominant male". He slowly shakes himself, setting a good example to Piccolina, then runs about madly rolling in any vegetation he can. Bravo Zacchi!

Piccolina, however, now by far the heavier and stronger of the two, runs, is caught, escapes, runs again. Third time lucky I think, and lift her into the tub. The minute her collar is off, so is she! No, Pickle, non sei brava.

For this she gets a double bath, the nice smelling shampoo and then the smelly one prescribed by the vet. I notice that her hair still comes out a little, but it is thickening up and growing far faster than any falls out.

I check Zacchi anxiously, his hair and his toenails, but so far no evidence that he has any problems.

Now, when they are nicely dry and confident that I am their friend again, it's time for a dose of tonic via a syringe. It's funny, isn't it, what love looks like?

Today I am grateful for healthy dogs.

to the civilians

This is in some way a tribute to the Italian civilians, the women who found incredible strength to carry on in their occupied country, without their menfolk, not knowing their fate, their crops destroyed, their animals taken, living in freezing conditions without even firewood to burn once the front line had passed them by.



For now, the painting is finished. I know I'll come back to it, but this is enough. Propped on my easel it keeps pulling me back, not to paint it but to read it. That's what a painting should do.

nearly there

I am at the point where I know that I will never be satisfied with this work so I have to look at it differently. If it were beautifully framed in an exhibition, would I be drawn to have a closer look at it? The answer is a definite yes, so it must have something about it that is compelling. Up close though, technically it frustrates me. I can see what was in my mind, and it is not what is on the paper. I know that I will be painting this one again.

The source photograph is less ambiguous. It is part of a larger photograph of local civilians being driven out of their homes, with some changes to make the composition work. The women and the children formed a long train of cold and hungry residents with nowhere to go. I wonder, what nationality was the person who took the photograph? I am guessing, from the fear in the faces of the children, that it was a soldier. The woman in the photograph has a strong, resolute but also haunted look.

I hope that I have painted these figures in a more ambiguous manner. I'd like to inspire more questions than answers. The boy on foot is wearing what looks like an army uniform. It is far too big for him, but the sleeves are rolled up, perhaps to keep them out of the mud when he picks grasses to eat along the way, leaving his hands frozen. Why is the mother carrying the bigger boy when the little girl is crying? Is the child in her arms wounded? Is the little girl turning back to look for her own mother?

In the photograph there are several children, and only one adult. There are sacks of possessions along the path, and one imagines that she is hoping that someone will come to assist in this weary journey. The mud, the children with bare feet, the desolute nature of the travel give a sad and haunting image. I hope that there is a little more hope in my painting, that the person they have turned to might be bringing some hope and assistance to the group.

It's time to put it aside now... if I can.