After a rested weekend with The Mother, I’m feeling motivated. I have been filled with loverly Sunday Roast (both beef that wasn’t dry *miracle* and Mum’s special nutroast, which went wrong, long story about parsnips, but was delish in the end) aaaand home made Yorkshire puddings. The spellchecker just saw fit to capitalise my Yorkshires. Good decision spellchecker. We then watched Tucker and Dale Vs Evil. It was great to see the family, including Adopted Aunty from next door, both Little Brother and Medium Brother (both of whom are looking a bit more like Ticket To The Gun Show Brothers these days) and Sister In Law, who I don’t see enough of. Then bussed it back to London.
I have a dirty confession to make. In the space of a week I have been shopping three times. Three times. Once is too often. I have enough clothes down here with me to last and can probably get by with minimal food purchases for the next two weeks (still have a cupboard full of tins). Iam currently unemployed and living a bit hand to mouth. So why in hell have I purchased a new skirt, two new dresses and two pairs of shoes? (I don’t even usually wear these things! I’m a trousers and sweater and ‘the same pair of boots until they fall apart’ kind of person) Cos I’m a sucker for sales. They were all bargains. But that’s not the point. One pair of shoes originally cost more than the whole spree. But that’s not the point. And everything I have bought is beautiful. But that’s not the point. I don’t have money to be throwing around. I am choosing to interpret it as some kind of subconscious cry for help. No other explanation. And to justify my purchases I have punished myself by wearing my new high heeled ankle boots (uh, suede, oh, beautiful) all weekend and now I have sore ankles. I think that’s penance enough. Well, until I can’t pay my rent.
Other than that the past couple of days have been all but completely uneventful. Fantastic. I’ve been living on The Mother’s couch, watching rubbish TV and films and just eating and dozing until my little heart was content. Now, well rested, I’m back on the case. I realise that I have only two weeks left here and I need to make them count. This week’s tasks are to include:
- Getting on top of this project for Mr Consultant and working out how I will stay involved in the write-up once back in Nottingham. I may have to organise a couple of extra trips to London in the three weeks after I leave to wrap things up and still keep my finger in the pie.
- Writing up my Case Report.
- Working out this Art Project I’m supposed to be doing. Art Friend has exams impending and so I need to be independent and brave and just make a few decisions. I need to talk to the ladies at The Charity and see what they say. I need to come up with a coherent plan for an exhibition to raise awareness for the charity and what sort of format that’s going to take. Enough Blue Sky Thinking. It’s time for action.
- I need to do more illustrations in theatre and turn some of the illustrations into stand alone pieces. My watercolour technique better buck itself up.
- I have to do a market stall on Saturday (anyone in Nottingham come to the art gallery on St James’ St on Saturday!). I have nothing to sell. So I need to make some things here and now and quickly. Thus, in a cunning but potentially very blasphemous fashion, I rescued a handful of my old comics from The Mother’s place today. Twenty year old copies of The Complete Spiderman. Now, obviously after I have read them again, I will see if I can be brave enough to cut them up, varnish bits and make them into various accessories. Nail biting.
- Finally shake this bloody cold.
So I have my work cut out for me this week. Along with attending a few galleries, catching up with a few friends I actually have to go in and see some patients and stuff. Although I’m thinking that ‘clinical’ attendance can be allowed to slide at this point in favour of getting work done.
I foresee a week of sniffles and reading comics.
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