Skip to content

What? Better than Gerard Butler without his shirt on?

A peek behind the velvet curtain this week would show an awful lot of unpleasantness. A lot of it wet and sticky.  I try to keep away from such foulness but sometimes I can’t side-step it in time, it creeps in when I least expect it, and makes itself at home. Now, don’t get me wrong,  I like to be the hostess, but not when its like this, so particular, so invasive, so in yer face.  I certainly didn’t send out invites for this one, but it made its home with me regardless. I tire of it now though, and wish it would move on – not that I would wish it with anyone else, I just don’t want it with me!

And that’s the thing that I find so disruptive with colds, they’re such a complete waste of time (for the host! not for the virus) time being a very precious commodity to me. I know my days are the same length as everyone else’s, but time and essence are intermingled, and I don’t waste any more than I have to. But, what is a waste of time? I can answer that one for you …….

……a waste of time is doing something I don’t want to do, when there is a whole lot of stuff I want and need to do.  But who is setting these mysterious deadlines I’m trying to work to? Er, well, that would be me, mostly. And the rest of it? Well, I can cancel, or postpone til a more opportune time, or at least until next week. And the enforced rest has actually enhanced the weekend in more ways than I would have thought possible. It has opened doors to another world. A new world….

IF, and I know that’s a big word, IF I had been well last week, I would have finished off two paintings, and started Stuarts painting, or at least the working drawing of it. But, I didn’t, because I wasn’t, well that is, I wasn’t well, not at all. It might only be a cold, but its one of those that won’t be denied, its here, and here to stay for a while, and who am I to argue with it? It’s not going without a fight! I didn’t know so much liquid could come from someones nose, particularly mine,  and I had to go out a buy TWO more boxes of tissues, and my fella went out to get more neurofen, since my skin was prickly (as in feeling, not that I was turning into Mrs Tiggywinkle taking in washing). And the off shoot of all of this? Inactivity. No painting. No drawing. No artistic endeavours. Just telly, well that, and something very special…

Since my fella started with it three days after me, he didn’t feel like doing a lot either over the weekend. So, we blobbed……. I had a leisurely lie-in, we had a leisurely morning watching cooking programmes whilst building up energy to sustain us after a bowl of muesli. No energy to do  anything, but stare vacantly at the telly. Both of us struggled to get up mid-afternoon to prepare a meal for later on, a beef bourguignon thick with chunks of tasty beef seeped in red wine, but thankful that the friend who should have been coming over to join us, cancelled late afternoon as that meant we could see her another day when we felt well again and return to being invalids again. The telly stayed on, as we watched The Golden Compass, The Devil wears Prada, Die Hard three? Was it? I don’t know which it was, er with Bruce Wallis in his tatty vest looking all manly and menacing but sexy with it, The Bodyguard with the very lovely, and very desirable Kevin Costner, looking all gorgeous as he does, and the silly but very enjoyable (from my point of view!) Timeline, with the most gorgeous one of all, sigh, the very very lovely Gerard Butler, yep, he does it for me everytime! and  on top of all that,  two episodes of my favourite programme of the moment – Sherlock – clever, understated, and oh so very classy and classic English humour, verbal dexterity, conversational fencing, quickfire dialogue and a little bit of naughtiness as well, who could ask for more in television. Not me. And the reason I sat through all of that lot over the weekend was because I felt like shit poorly, and doing much else was too much flipping effort. Except, for that other thing. That other thing that I feel guilty about, but shouldn’t. That thing that I sometimes do with my fella, but mostly on my own. That thing that gives me guilty pleasure, but he keeps telling me I should just get on with it, if I like it so much, and stop feeling guilty about it. So, I did, at his insistence, and lay back, on the settee, with a big grin on my face, as I opened my book……… and read. A book. Ah, bliss! There’s nothing nicer (well, there is, but you know what I mean) to sit down, with a book, a good book, that you can immerse yourself into. Its only a small thing, but its a portal to another world. One that is described to you in simple words, but which you see yourself, in your own version of the images conjurored before you. And when that story teller is a master at it, and the tale is one that you find intriguing, enchanting, thought provoking, and a real page turner, then its a joy.

…. I can’t say exactly what sort of books I like, what sort of novels I read, I know within the first page whether I’ll like it or not. Some authors are guaranteed though, and this one is one I know well, although I first read his earlier books when I was a teenager, scaring myself in the meantime, as you do at that age. This story is more, magical though, although I can see James Herbert‘s storytelling ability hasn’t changed with the passing of time. He can still write a tale that has wound me up in its telling. This one, is called “Once“  and is certainly a beautiful faerie tale for adults, although the faeries are beautiful and enchanting, and I want to paint them, their brightly coloured hues darting swiftly through the motes of sunlight in the forest air. But this tale has some more hooks in it to get me interested, since he can certainly write an erotic tale as well as the horror stories he’s noted for. And he certainly seems to be enjoying the description of it as its all so delightfully graphic  interesting. 🙂

So, I shall stop feeling guilty because I’ve found a book I can’t keep my head out of.

I will get the work done later this week regarding Stuart’s painting, although he keeps telling me he’s in no hurry for it.

And I have got other irons in the fire regarding things happening later on in the year, so its not as if time has stood still.

Its just that I’ve filled my head, mind, eyes, ears, hands, with other stimulations this weekend. Even if my nose has been filled with other less pleasant things!

And its all good inspiration for an erotic artist, a lover of images, of magical creations, and gorgeous creatures.

Now, where did I put that book………………… 🙂