I know I must be contravening some Blogger's Charter by not having written anything for a day or so, but things have been hectic. It did occur to me tonight, however, that watching for the umpteenth time Captain Jayneway get her kit off to do battle with those big buzzing viruses on board Voyager, was not a useful way to spend my time. I could instead be blogging like crazy.
On Wednesday morning I realised the calendar in my head didn't agree with the one on the wall. I had to get a painting finished and to the framer's so he could frame it in time for me to collect it on Saturday. The picture was only barely started and quite a complicated composition. To be honest, I didn't think I could finish it in one sitting, but with the help of a lot of Liquin and a makeshift mahl-stick, I got it done by about 4 o'clock.
Which meant I just had time to shower and dress for a private view with CJ at Red Box. Interesting work, though I'm tempted to condemn with faint praise by saying it was "decorative". Maybe I lack the necessary feminist interest in paintings so clearly based on patchwork quilts and torn fabric samples. Would look good and unobtrusive on an office wall. Providing you don't have an aversion to the colour red. Isn't this favourite colour choice for women's art wearing a bit thin now? I think we all get the biological connection.
I always feel a little uncomfortable at Red Box previews. I don't recognise many of the people who attend. Oh, they'll be gallery hangers-on, artist's sycophants, "networkers" and general boozers like all those who go to previews (I do not exclude myself), but they're not the same ones who go to the other previews I attend. And quite often there's an unhealthy gathering of the University Cabal which makes me want to leave even earlier.
However, I can't grumble about the wine which flowed like...well, wine. And set us up nicely for another bottle over some pasta at Zizzi, followed by a drop more at The Bacchus. CJ was unusually unsteady on her feet, but I was fresh as a daisy.
Anyway, Thursday was therefore spent photographing the new picture, rushing to the framer's, dropping off film at the developer's, meeting up with Patsy123 who'd just come back from London, lunch at the Playhouse (which has now covered its tables with the most horrendous 50s style plastic cloths - all big roses and bananas), general shopping and collapsing in front of the TV to watch the quite likeable New Tricks. Followed by another serial killer movie, Blowback, with the unlikely premise that a serial killer is executed in the gas chamber, only to be revived by shady CIA operatives and conditioned to be an assassin for the government. This is swept away in a matter of moments by the serial killer then revealing that he hadn't really been conditioned at all and was out for revenge on those who'd convicted him the first time round. Barmy plot, not too good acting by Mario Van Peebles.
I'd have been better off blogging. You know it makes sense.
And just before posting and going to bed, I can see I have a lot of work to do with this Spell Checker. Doesn't recognise words like "barmy" and wants to substitute "motorcars" for "networkers"!