Oooooh goody, Claudia is coming to play today and it's blueberry muffins for elevenses. It's hardly surprising I am such a fattipuff, but blueberry muffins are just gorgeous. Scraping the baked blueberries off the paper with your tongue is a divine experience; sometimes you have to use your teeth to achieve that little extra bit of indulgence.
I swam for miles and miles yesterday. I thought exercise was supposed to make you feel happy - it doesn't. I was quite jolly til I swam but maybe it's being too contemplative that puts me in a bad mood. Thinking is probably something to be avoided.
The painting has gone wrong again. It's just bad. Rubbishly bad. Shall I continue to flog this dead horse or have an accident with a stanley knife and rip it to shreds? Do you think Leonardo had days like this when he just couldn't get that smile quite right? I bet he didn't paint an aeroplane that looked like a cat? Oh well, most of Picasso's pictures are dreadful and I still like them. I just don't like this. However, just think how brill I will feel if I do manage to make it into something better. No wonder Mr Smith doesn't applaud my efforts - having to suffer for your wife's art must be very hard. He can't even sit in the Freecycled chair and watch me because I didn't get it - someone else did.
No comments:
Post a Comment