Phew.
That was quite a week. I am once again this morning very calmly taking the decision I have so often taken in the past, which is never to drink alcohol again. Certainly not until the next time. But, you say, surely there is a fine tradition of dissolute living which any self-respecting west London-based portrait and landscape artist would feel it his duty to continue in whichever way he deemed suitable?
‘No’ I reply, ‘I don’t live by other people’s rules, that’s the whole point, and I will now and henceforth abjure and absolutely reject absinthe and any other green alcoholic drinks if I jolly well please.’
‘You’re not talking to yourself again, are you?’ you politely enquire.
Who-me? Not again….
I have had the pleasure this week of celebrating my father’s retirement, of purchasing an excellent painting of camels from the brilliant Richard Foster’s exhibition in Cork Street, of being interviewed by Artists and Illustrators magazine, of paying a flying visit to my learned and renowned web designer’s family home and place of work in Cirencester, of being present at the successful auctioning of, amongst many other things, my still life of cream roses in a green jug and silver tankard at the Sixty-five Roses Ball for Cystic Fibrosis at the Dorchester hotel in London, and of partying with Chiswick’s finest late into last night, when I discovered what an excellent dancer I make after just the right number of mojitos and brandy schnapps.
And what of painting, you ask. Did you, er, actually do any of that?
Yes! Of course! A bit. I now have counted 35 unfinished works in my studio. And I have tried to develop some of them, especially a rather fine family group under the cherry blossom in Cirencester. But all this toing and froing has thrown me off a tad. The next ship on the horizon is a talk I am due to give at my old prep school Ludgrove in 10 days’ time.
In preparation I have been looking through old photographs, and this process, perhaps especially in the light of the my dad’s big moment on Monday, has made me more than usually nostalgic and thoughtful.
It’s just so-sad– thinking about it how quickly time passes…maybe I do need a small pick-me-up after all….