Another late night. And I haven’t even technically done much today. Last night was a good one and I had been granted the morning off this morning so I tried to make the most of it. Woken up at 8am by what sounded like someone repeatedly driving a forklift truck into the side of a skip. As I have to sleep with the window open and there is apparently a whole lotta skips and forklift trucks just outside the back of the building, lie-ins aren’t really possible in this place. But still. I managed to roll over and sleep though it for another couple of hours. I slept through the great storm of ’87 dontchaknow.
Today I got up, had a fried chicken sandwich (everything is happy when fried) and a 7Up due to lack of milk for tea. Once again refusing to pay for public transport (a single bus journey is now £1.35 in London), I walked to the sister hospital and met Friend for the last time around 2pm. We went to visit the HQ of Mr C’s charity and I had a bunch of flowers ready for the ladies there (without whom I would not be doing my elective). As is typical, no one was there. But left flowers in the office for them on Monday. And now I know where they live I can go back next week and say Hi. Friend and I then went for a tea, he gave me a whole bunch of PDF medical books onto my data stick (tres kind), we vowed to contact each other with relevant projects in the future and that was that. Bye bye Friend. Was good to know you.
My next meeting of the day was with Art Friend (previously referred to as Mad Friend but I can’t keep calling her that). I sat in the Tate Mod to pass a bit of time (very peaceful video installation in the Turbine Hall at the mo). Then went and sat in the Market Porter in Borough Market. Having worked in the Globe Tavern round the corner, the Market Porter is an old haunt. It has changed a lot and not at all. It was rammed and the crap beer was ridiculously expensive. So bought a half and read a book on a stool until Art Friend arrived. We made a quick escape round the corner to the Anchor which was much less crowded. But a pint of Fosters set me back £3.90. I am really beginning to resent London.
We had a very successful meeting, discussed our objectives for The Project, ate chips and made some plans. I am to continue with the ‘let’s see if I have the stamina to do a self-portrait every day for six weeks’ thing, we are going to get a few patients involved and I am hoping to do a series of paintings of member of The Team. The faces of the face-fixers.
After lovely meeting of loveliness, fishing grit out of eyeballs and hugs I treated myself to a bus back to the accommodation. Via mini-supermarket. To get milk. I am now the very very happy owner of a pint of milk. And I also picked up a rubber and sharpener which I have been meaning to get all week. I also bought a pizza for dinner, as I realise I can’t remember the last proper meal I had. Got home, leftover chicken on pizza and then notice that neither oven in the kitchen works. Hissy fit almost. But I do notice that the microwave is a Microwave Oven. I have had experience with such a thing in France, as a couple of my friends will remember. So, after trying a few settings, pizza was cooked and edible. Happy evening. After dinner I sat down to this evening’s portrait and since last night’s was a stickman on a paper towel I thought tonight I should do a proper painting. So for you dereliction this evening is an A4 canvas which only took three hours. Urgh. Painting makes my shoulders hurt. And I hate canvas, it’s not smooth enough.
So what would have been a thoroughly laid back day was rescued by a few hours hard work. Here is what I look like if I pout and puff out one cheek and then hold it for three hours while I paint it in technicolour. My cheek is sore.
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