What next ?
The washing machine cycle has just come to a chugging stop. Kettle on to make strong coffee. Buzzer for fifteen minutes set on oven.
Back from hairdressers. Hair feels much better, less tangled. A straight line at the back of my head, first time its been cut in six months. I’ve found a good cheap hairdressers now. I have given up on french bobs and high maintenance cuts. Long hair just needs trimming from time to time and you can put it up or let it down. I have children I am skint, I have neither the money or the time to bother with beauty.
The hairdresser talked about television programmes, cute animals, hair products, the news reporting on Radio 1, the town carnival, her dad and Facebook. She had beautiful pink hair and a lovely smile. I enjoyed listening to her. I was glad that she didn’t want to know anything much about me.
Its Patricks birthday, I need to do something for him. A card, beer, make him dinner. A large orange lorry emblazoned with the slogan LOGISTICS THE RIGHT WAY is parked on the main road, blocking my view of the hill. It seems an age since I spent any time at home. I have been retreating from here to the studio because of the building work next door, thankfully that seems to have come to an end. The skip has gone and its been quieter. But the dog is barking constantly.
Naoise was rather difficult this morning. I couldn’t find his red coat and he was refusing to put on the yellow sailing coat or the blue coat with motorbikes. Naoise said each coat was too small. He asked if he could wear his brothers old coat. Its stashed under his bed in the attic. I rush upstairs and find the coat. To find the coat I have to lift up the heavy mattress that fills the entire bedroom floor space. I find the coat. Put it on him. The coat is too big. Naoise takes it off. We are back to square one.
I pack him into the car with the motorbike coat and his protestations. He is cold. The weather is dismal. He has already refused to wear a vest, and now no jumper, no coat. We just got to school in time. Just. The doors are still open. On the way down to the classroom Naoise is sad as he had wanted to be the register monitor but its too late, I consol him.
I worked late last night delivering the life drawing class at Artsmill. It was a great session lots of quick poses exploring movement. The class are getting more confident and its great to see the progression in their work. We laughed a lot together. The life model was really brilliant, she swept the floor with a broom, stepped up and off a platform continuously, moved with grace, pushed an empty pram around the room.
I bought a pram. A pram for a piece of artwork. A pram from the grey hound charity shop. A pram for an imaginary baby. Its not a pram that I think I even like. Its green with a checkered decoration and a matching nappy bag with a changing mat that looks completely unused. No rain cover which is a shame as it rains a lot here. Plenty of room underneath to put the shopping. It looks dated, probably from the 1990’s. Cost me £10. Its good enough for what I need it for.
The buzzer on the oven is sounding. Best to stop. I could write more, but rules can help. I need to work on other things as well as this. Trying to get a balance on art work and domestic work, the house is a bomb site.