nervy yesterday

- nervous before setting off for the studio - I don't know whether I'll like what I find there and I'm eager to be rid of the 'Living on this Isle' pair.  Of a sudden, their 'mood' has passed and I've had enough of them persistently not being finished and hanging around my neck.  I want them done and gone, for good or bad.

In the painting of a painting this is a good sign.  Maybe I've got it - quite probably not but in so far as it goes, this is as far as I'm going to get starting from here with what I've got, and so-be-it.

I don't know if they are finished or abandoned?

I don't know, I'll never know.  I'm the sob painting the wretched thing, not the anonymous plural 'one', who gets to look at it.

In the event I was more relieved by the fresh sight of them than I'd expected.  It seemed so obvious - either, a bit here-bit there, bit o'cleaning, wax / varnish - sign and photo; or, chuck 'em away and start again and I wasn't going to do that.

I did a bit here and a tight little blob there, and thought the next one (bigger than, better than) and had a Guinness-ey thirst brought on by S.'s new FB profile pic.  It was Friday and I hadn't had a drink for, well, some hours.  I'd had enough of painting and being parental, I wanted to watch women drinking in N1 or EC1, or N16 or anywhere over the rim of a glass.