London Wall from Moorgate

I was invited to the retirement party for a design client I’ve had for about seventeen years. This city view en route to the party was mainly selected because there was a convenient bench near the corner of Moorgate and London Wall. The people were fellow train and tube travellers. Although my friend seems to have planned lots of absorbing activities it made me think about how devastating retirement can be for other people who have had a very fulfilling work life but find it difficult to make the transition to a work-free existence. Those of us who enjoy sketching are so lucky to have something that’s so enjoyable and fulfilling.

Theatre evening

A few weeks ago Robin and I went to see a theatrical adaptation of Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Cat’s Cradle’. It was a Christmas present from me as Robin loves Kurt Vonnegut. It turned out to be a rather tedious production, but obviously not as tiresome for me as it was for Robin as I had a sketchbook.

Robin hunched

Pencil in sketchbook

Gathered to watch 'The Apprentice'

Pen and watercolour

Swimming pool figures

Another meditative, steamy half an hour.

Keeping up with friends

My daughter, who can’t see the point of making your bed when you’re just going to make a mess of it when you get back into it. I think I'm going to have to resort to killing off the wireless internet access if her bed isn’t made tomorrow morning.
Pen in sketchbook

Captive audience

I went to see my son, Hugo, performing in a youth Shakespeare production at the Trestle theatre this evening, and managed a sketch of some members of the audience.

Mothering Sunday sketches

All the others were out so Xavier and I took Rufus and a picnic to one of my favourite spots just beyond Langley Wood. I managed this tiny watercolour and a quick sketch of my artistic son. I said that eventually I’d be able to make money from my art when he grew up and became a famous artist/inventor/film director and the newspapers would pay me good money for drawings of him as a child. We also went for a little drive and as we drove past Shaw’s Corner, the home of George Bernard Shaw I told Xavier about his revolving writing summerhouse at the bottom of the garden, which allowed him to turn the summerhouse to let in the light as the sun moved across the sky. Xavier promised me that when he grows up and builds me my dream house that he will include a revolving garden studio.

The Orangery

Before lunch on Thursday, I managed to start this sketch of The Orangery, in Kensington Gardens.

Wonderful day

I didn’t have the nerve to sketch the great man whilst he ate at the next table in the perfect Kensington restaurant my dear friend took me to yesterday. I mean you can hardly whip out your sketchbook to draw one of the world’s greatest living painters who’s sitting a few feet away from you but I had to have some record of the occasion, so a sketch that’s a mix of memory and looking at innumerable photos.

Swimming lesson

Every Monday I accompany Xavier to his swimming lesson at the local school swimming pool. Although normally I find chauffeuring children to sporting and other after-school activities a bit of a bore, I nevertheless quite enjoy this activity. I think I go into a sort of meditative trance as I sit on a comfortable bench in the warm steamy atmosphere. It’s almost like being in church and sshh, don’t tell anyone, but I much prefer it when I end up seated next to people I don’t know – so that for once – I’m enjoying inner contemplation, rather than chatting away..

Hob salon

In the moments between having my hair plastered with hair colour and having it washed, I quickly sketched the receptionists I could see in the mirror. This is a two storey building and this is the first time I’ve had my hair done downstairs. I suspect that upstairs was completely empty as in this economic climate so many of us are delaying having our hair done until our partners complain that they are sharing their life with a badger.

Back from university

Another portrait that doesn’t quite capture Flo. However Tom reckons this is quite a good mix of Flo and our friend Andreia.
Brushpen in sketchbook

Look up!

Like most towns we have the same chains of shops and cafés, but when you look above the standard mass-produced signage you can spot the unique little features that hint at what the town was like a hundred years ago. A beautiful sunny day encouraged me to grab some moments to sketch 'Pike and Sons' above 'Accessorize' in St Albans town centre.

Exhausted

Pen in sketchbook

Filling in a form

I have them trained well. They fill in all those tedious parental consent forms themselves and then just hand over the form for me to sign in the box. Of course there’s always the possibility that I’ve just agreed to Tom going on a ‘How to grow your own drugs’ weekend away, but heck at least I didn’t have to read through all those questions about allergies and doctor’s contact details etc.
Pen in sketchbook

Xavier and Julie portrait party

Xavier and I had a lovely evening. He helped me make meatballs for supper and then while Robin was coaching canoeing we had fun drawing each other. He ended up going to bed very late because I can’t estimate time when I’m drawing.

Tom winding up friends

Facebook teasing.

Drastic haircut

Tom, at last using the knowledge he gained from his one week hairdressing work experience, cut Hugo’s hair this evening. We save a fortune in this family by rarely having professional haircuts. (And many of my friends would probably add ‘and it shows…’).

Robin dreaming about canoes

Pen in sketchbook

Sprawled teenager after lunch

A lovely day. A big Sunday lunch with all the children and two of their friends. And then a walk round the bluebell wood to work some of it off. Flo went back to university with the makings of a meal raided from the fridge.
Brushpen in sketchbook

He needs a hair cut

Xavier’s hair was knotted and standing on end this morning so I started to brush it. However he insisted on taking over while gazing into the large mirror in my room. As he brushed he said ‘My hair looks like the hair on lego men – you know the kind that can be taken off their heads’. I seem to be the only person to find this acutely observant and also very funny.

Strange right hand

Why would I want to push my last drawing (which I rather like) down my blog page so that you can see this poor sketch which gives Hugo a strange unconnected right arm? I’m one of those people who has to keep this drawing art thing going on an almost daily basis. If I spent a moment worrying about the quality I’d end up incapable of producing anything. And if I left off drawing for a week it might be another twenty years before I picked up a pencil again.
My son, Tom, begged me not to mention my blog at a lunch party we’re having soon – to which I remonstrated that I only ever mentioned blogging when people said to me that they wished they were more creative, or that they could draw. However I’m not so sure that starting a blog would initially be as rewarding as it was a few years ago. When I started blogging comments arrived under my pictures as if by magic and so there was an almost instant rapport between me and ‘my readership’. So I just had to keep on producing the pictures. However, now, so many people, including me, read many more blogs and most of them via an RSS feed, that there just isn’t the time to spread the comments around. So now instead of feeling as though blogging is being at a rather agreeable party, with lots of people who are interested in what you have to say – it could feel as though you’re a bit of a wallflower. Personally I really, really don’t mind the lack of comments – I sort of imagine there’s probably a dozen or so of you who visit regularly but are too busy to keep a dialogue going with all of the blogs they visit and I’m pretty much the same.

Tom wearing a Stockwood t-shirt

Tom wearing a t-shirt I designed for the transatlantic sailing race 1988 – there's a great stack of them in the attic.

Mums’ night out

A very enjoyable night out with all the primary school mums. The lone male was the class teacher who enthusiastically dragged the mums onto the dance floor. The restaurant was Anastasia’s in St Albans and they get a 9 out of 10 from me for food, value for money, and entertainment and I’m afraid a zero for insisting on keeping the music up at such a high volume in the early and middle part of the evening so that it was impossible to chat over dinner. You probably think it’s yet another sign of Julie getting old – but I have never been able to appreciate the joys of straining to hear your friends talk and having to shout over the dinner ’till you were hoarse.