Post-vacation stress

Oh dear, two weeks after returning from the UK I still haven’t found my working rhythm. I really meant to start posting (almost) daily paintings, but now I’ll wait till September – this week is post-vacation stress week. But once I get going, there’ll be no stopping me!

Home again

After 14 days non-stop vacation, I’m quite happy to be back here. I’ve started picking up the threads for painting and this morning I bought 6 40×40cm canvases for small paintings which I hope to complete pretty fast! I’ll also be starting my painting-a-day project very soon. The days are simply too short to do everything. I don’t know how people manage to do everything! But I will post here regularly starting soon and then I’ll be looking out for contacts and interesting blog links! I can’t wait.

Fresh air is good for you

On my third day out into my UK vacation I’m definitely feeling the benefit of the sea air. Though Bristol is strictly speaking not a coastal city, it does have a tidal river (the Avon) which flows into the Severn which forms the Estuary leading from Bristol to the Irish Sea. The weather is mixed and very showery. A sweltering drive on Wednestay really knocked the stuffing out of me, but after three good nights sleep and a couple of siestas, I now feel fairly rested and up to the outings ahead.

This afternoon there’s a garden party with singing by Jenny (my hostess) and her Barbershop chorus. That should be fun, but might not be if the weather gets too inclement! I’ll report on that later.

Sunday will be quiet because Monday will see us on a coach to London, where we will see as many exhibitions as possible. That will be strenuous, but doable seeing as I won’t have to drive through all that horrendous traffic!

Art i.e. painting is on the back burner. I left all my equipment at home so that I won’t be tempted. It’s quite hard to kick the painting habit, but necessary for a kind of rejuvenation to set in. But I’m writing busily on my laptop, trying to finish a short book of stories about a village somewhere in England. The village does not exist except in my mind and when I’m in the UK I realize that the 40 years or so during which time I have lived abroad must have happened, but not to me. I seem to have omitted them. Of course, my memories of those years are intermittent and based mainly on short visits. No matter. I’m really writing for the pleasure. But I may decide to publish on lulu.com. I might find readers that way – people nostalgic about the England of yesteryear or even a no-man’s land of some time or other.

Time now to go into the village (on the edge of Bristol) to get some weekend shopping.