Slippery trends

A conversation this morning caused me to ponder many things - the nature of fashions and their slippery little ways mainly. Meandering around the topic of famous cooks, my companion observed that we had moved on from the age of 'scary' (her words) cooks like Delia, Mary Berry and the U.S. version, Julia Child, and were now in the age of 'simpering' cooks in the (rose jelly?)mould of Nigella Lawson and Sophie Dahl. It is a fair comment, and makes one wonder how this echoes the times and fashions in which it has become evident. The most obvious and unexpected development in fashion over the last ten years or so has been the ascent of grooming and styling as an all important element of fashion. Sure, there has always been make-up, hair and treatments, but the ubiquity of the over-styled plastic people is surely a product of the 'noughties'. This is a trend that personally makes me feel on the queasy side at best, and at worst it rumbles the very fabric of my world; the horror of spending hundreds on self-adornment is just so alien and wrong it verges on the obscene. Tell me, can you look at Victoria Beckham any more and see a human being? I think not.

The parallel is surely obvious; style over content has become the norm in the food world as well; so long as the cupcake/herb risotto looks as beautiful as its creator and is eaten in a suitably idyllic surround, then all is well in the world.

Food is a funny one anyway; in the same way as fashion is essentially cyclical, with additions due to technology and circumstance, food has become a bit of a stuck record. We discovered the world; first Europe, then the Far East, Middle East, Africa, South America, then we 'did' fusion, the melting pot of the world cuisine, and then...ummm... We have to start at the first verse again.

I am in danger of getting on a rant, but this year of frugality has been positively enjoyable so far; the thought of not paying seventy odd quid for a haircut, repeatedly, for twelve months is simply a joy. Finding ways around things is fun, no doubt about it, and there is much satisfaction to be had from bucking the trend to pander to and pamper the ego as a fun leisure activity.

Anyway, had another dream as predicted; this time a virtual re-run of the night before but with no sinister overtones; the musical was taking place but I was rehearsed and relaxed. No nudity was involved and my buddy was my buddy again. Truly weird, and no, I have never seen an episode of 'Glee' (although I know it exists and the basic facts about it) so my sudden interest in amateur dramatics can't be pinned to this.

Could it possibly be performance anxiety for my 'live' painting stint next month; I have only done this once before and that was when I learned the true meaning of fear; neurosis is my middle name and no amount of self-help wallpapering will camouflage this fact! (Or 'self-wallpapering'; now there's a painting!)

The Moussange was delicious; its constituents were beef mince, cooked off with onions and bean mix (broad, soya, green), layered with sweet potato and spinach, with ground cumin, cumin seeds and a little dried chilli. This was baked in a square ceramic dish and served with the rest of the salad we had leftover from some other night. I am just such a fan of sweet potatoes and they give me a little sugar kick without resorting to pudding; maybe a strangely comfort food choice for a very lovely day, but it hit the spot. And importantly, no cheese.

Cheese dreams?

Spent part of this morning seeing to the manicuring of a cat's bum; life is a whirl of glamour here.

Our more portly lady cat needed help in the grooming of her nether regions, so with a brush to detangle, a baby wipe to restore the pinkness and a very large squirt of anti-bac to my own paws, the deed was done. It merely illustrates how the furry members of the household infiltrate your daily life and routine, making commonplace actions that would not have previously been considered. From 5am to 8.30am I slept on the sofa in the studio under a small coat, as Twig was having one of her major benders, using her devil cat lungs to their fullest and taking out whatever fury drove her on the curtains.

Once my mood was restored by the cure-all cup of tea, we jaunted to the local supermarket to make use of their kind £10 offer once more; two more chickens and a big slab of mince. Stu was off today, so we really scored from his cheffing skills this week I must confess; apart from chastising me for my lack of respect/cleaning of the stove. Both chickens were portioned and frozen away in leg and breast packs, and the remainder converted to two more tubbies of stock.

I had been thinking of Moussaka, but once the beef mince appeared, we did some lateral thinking and invented something not quite a moussaka, not quite a lasagne; you guessed - a Moussagne. Quite what this constitutes I will have to hold in store for another episode, as tonight was a curry night as I had a necessary but unexciting appointment with my day-cash-job that kept me to an unusually late hour; returned home to a warming curry and a shining cat's arse. Things of wonder all around.

An interesting question was posed to me today in the course of my money-making; 'What is the difference', a lady customer asked, 'between a skeleton and a fossil?' She was, as I understood it, helping out with her son's homework, although I would have been unsurprised if this was not the case; working in customer service gives people the right to ask you anything at all for no reason. As I stuttered through an answer revolving around bones, fossilised leaves and amber, she cut in; 'Is that how the skeletons stay standing up then? I gave up.

A cheering anecdote to demonstrate that even professionals in their field have their little off days. Stu, he of the butchering knife and tubs of stock, Moosagnes, burgers and curries, was sporting a mystery cut on the end of his nose today. When challenged, he confessed to having cut it 'on a tomato'. Yes, that's what I thought. It transpires that he was interrupted while chopping a large pile of beefsteak tomatoes and in a fit of whimsy, held one in front of his nose, as if it were, well, a nose; the scratchy stalk bit cut him. There is hope for all of us.

Finally, I had one of my more repetitive and alarming dreams, probably due to my stint on the sofa. Staying in a mystery student style accomodation, with many many rooms and occupants, I kept stumbling into other peoples rooms in a state of undress. As if this weren't enough, my old school chum, who I am visiting in a week, was strutting about organising a musical performance for the next day, while wearing a really psychotic outfit and pink sunglasses. The problem was that I knew none of the words or music and had no clothes, but she was insisting on my attendance and, indeed, performance in this unknown musical. It follows a theme I am familiar with unfortunately - all answers welcome - and always leaves me feeling somewhat drained.

And now I come to think of it, my extra-curricular work activity involved cheese tasting, so heaven forbid, I have just encouraged another night of somnambulant stress...

Fish and coincidence

All things French are concerning my today, and I think the trend has been building for a few days...

I love a passage in 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' which essentially suggests that co-incidence is not so surprising, and not a phenomena as such at all; more, it is about being aware or susceptible to a sense of beauty. If you are aware of connections and parallels you will find them; they are always there, just sometimes you are tuned into their presence.

Thus France; a man spoke French to me utterly randomly today, when I had already realised that a Gallic vibe was in the air - I had a tricolour aura, so to speak. The anniversary of Dunkirk was a couple of days ago, Stu and I have been thinking of the south for our hols next year, and now my cousins are upping and awaying to Brittany to live. Fine idea, the last one, a move from West London to rural France can only be a good thing and I can't help but feel glee for the holiday opportunities! My dinner inspiration, when it came is true to theme; it was suggested by a memory of a truly breakthrough meal for me, in L'Escargot in London's Covent Garden when I worked in publishing and such things as corporate lunches for underlings existed. I had a white fish of unknown descent, served with a truly divine mashed potato (or 'creamed' more correctly, I suspect) and some sauce vert; probably a pea or two, I cannot recall. The point was that the fish and mash were so divine in their own right and I worshipped at the altar of fresh and simple produce treated sublimely. Back to my version later....

Artistic pursuit of the day was the delivery of pictures to one of my favourite framers in Leith, in pursuit of trade price and some technical know-how. I have noticed many pictures in oils/acrylics are being framed with a little 'inner' frame, which works essentially as a card mount does to a watercolour; separates the image from total proximity to the frame. The answer was as straighforward as I hoped - the little frame has a name I have forgotten, but is simply that; another smaller frame inside the outer. Guess that means the price hurts a bit more, but it would be useful for some of my bigger pics. Chose a new frame for the 'little' works, for some reason they didn't suit my usual pretty flat, semi-matt metalic, so a little more gold and a little more moulding on these; against my usual instinct but it looks good. Email from the gallery in Leith timely confirming that I have a slot there for the festival, so that is my next outing.

Dinner constructed successfully, although I will never get my head around how Stu can do such things continually for a living; I was stressed dealing with three pans for one meal. Lucky he doesn't have to fend off cats from the fish as it hides defensively in a rice cooker - I learnt never to leave it in an unprotected postion, but they still find it and sniff furtively.

Fried off some onions, garlic, and Korma paste with frozen spinach and peas, with fresh mint from the herb box for the mash. Fish fillets pressed into flour seasoned with five spice and pan fried - hot pan, hot oil - quicky on both sides. Absolutely nothing like the memory of L'Escargot but a jolly tasty tea. Bon appetit and bon nuit.

Saints and Strolling clouds

Twig the cat's first birthday - hard to believe we have racked up a year of sleepless nights, throwing paper balls

and waking to find a small furry body in bed nibbling toes... It seems a world away now; last year we were living on Arran and spending all our waking hours working in a seafood restaurant (apart from those spent as above).

Finished up the varnishing of the pictures for Leith in advance of

taking to the framers tomorrow; the last one - now called 'Strolling Clouds' (told you it was a cloud day yesterday) responded to the paint over varnish repair, so I can now complete the definitive painters' 'stone, scissor, paper'. Biro beats acrylic paint, but varnish beats biro. That still doesn't work though, does it? Acrylic paint would have to beat varnish - maybe that's why no-one messes with the original template, and the mimes would be pretty tricky too. Back

to the drawing board - ha ha.

Now blogging while dinner cooks - nothing, I believe, like fiddling while Rome burns, but you never know. Tonght's offering is

a variant of something we came up with last week ; Satay burgers. Last weeks were of the pork variety, but having come across some reduced chicken m

ince yesterday, we are chicken burgering. To the mince Stu mushed some curry power and chilli powder, fried off finely chopped onion and garlic (left to cool down) shoogle of the gloopy soy sauce, a teaspoon of peanut butter and a big spoon of Jimmy's Satay sauce. We find the Jimmy's in our Chinese supermarket and love it madly, but it is quite heavy on the shrimp paste,

so I accept that it may be an aquired taste; substitute a less shrimpy satay sauce if desired (please not Loyd Grossman's though, don't encourage him!)

The mix can now be burgered in a cunning manner; take one lid of burger sized container (round) and line with cling film, leaving overhang. Squish burger mix well into lid, cover with the rest of the cling film so burger is all happy and wrapped and fridge to set. Do I have to say 'remove from cling film before grilling/frying?... We

put them

in nice toasted pitta breads with dressed salad; you may do as you please - heathen wheaty buns allowed and hell, even chips at a push.

Agonising to the last as to which picture to frame up; I have some personal favourites which fall into the 'only a mother (creator?) could love them' bracket. 'Icarus Down' falls into the category; a personal view of the fall from the sun - I love that story an

d I'm sure it won't be the last time I attempt it. Thing is, though, I worry that my house will one day be some kind of weird shrine to these fo

ibles of my imagination, and future anthropologists will raise eyebrows over the strange ambition to create such follies. If I tell you that I have a three by four foot painting of St Blaise hovering over the sea behind the spare room bed, you begin to get the idea.

But what if... someone out there actually agrees with me? Loves St Blaise and wants to take him home and hang him on their exquisite barn

conversion wall? Is it better to leave them hiding in their corners or to reveal them in their glory and risk the raising of many eyebrows in a not good way...

From both sides now

I am beginning to think that painting is about a succession of what I can call, safe in the knowledge of the Simpson's global conquest, 'Doh' moments. This morning I put into practise yesterday's observation of my tendency to paint-scrimp and sure enough - 'Doh' - more paint means more flexibility, sponteneity, boldness of drawing and therefore accuracy of drawing...
I never know whether to be exilerated by these discoveries or to see it as a continuum down the ages; I love the idea of Leonardo suffering the same revelatory moments... or is it just me..?

Spent a successful day in the studio, results of which are on my new Studio View page, where I will try and remember to take photos of the stages of pictures in progress. Did discover that in a game of 'stone, scissors, paper' of art materials, 'bic biro' beats 'acrylic paint'. The under sketch I did in biro straight on the board still shows through the paint after three, four layers - impressive. I will have to varnish the offending section and paint on top, then revarnish; see if that works. In some parts the biro looks kind of cool, but in others it just reveals where my original drawing went wrong...

Great clouds today, from big, white on blue cotton candy puffs - ginormous ones, to this afternoon's fantastic grey laden Chinese watercolour udders, for want of a better word. The sky was in 'pouches' of dark, sodden mass emptying its load on the city quite spectacularly. Also considering a fantastic park surrounded by cherry trees and occupied by sinister, loitering gulls and numerous dogs in different shapes and sizes; surely a painting there! There is also a lone goal post in the dead centre of the green square with its surrounding mud hole. This was the scene under the hefty sky, so the whole effect was pretty special. Also a dog called Archie, so what more do I need - watch out for 'Archie's Park' coming to the blog soon.

A good and wholesome tea tonight of the vegetarian variety; delved into the store drawer for my 79p Aldi gnocchi and Stu wizarded up a nifty little sauce of onion, lovely pointy red peppers, olives, manchego and so much chilli that my nose has been watering ever since - in a good way - nothing like chilli-ing up the old sinuses! The olives, manchego and some of the chilli came in a tubby from Waitrose; handy way of getting a few ingredients that would break the budget if bought separately, and felt like a real treat!

Clouds is the word of the day today, as they ended up being a bit of a feature in the pic I finished today, as yet untitled but I think it has to be something cloudy and eveningy. Will go and sleep on it.

New board

A rare and wonderful creature - free day for painting and spending quality time in my house with no diversions; even the sun left me alone today, removing the temptation to retreat to the garden. Procrastination is always a fun way to spend a morning but today I motored into town to buy paint after only a shower and a quick whiz around Tesco to spend our Clubcard vouchers on necessary groceries to ease the week's budget. Iceberg lettuce for only 40p which served the dual function of continuing our alliance with seventies home economics and feeding my current leaf craving. Lack of sugar has turned me into a rodent and I spent yesterday thinking about rocket and watercress. Strange. Stomach responding well to the lack of fermenting however and feeling bouncy and able to get down to work for once; studio disco music not even needed today. If all else fails and I am in danger of frittering an entire evening avoiding the onset of painting I resort to the disco playlist, originally titled 'Kick-ass boogie' before the film Kick Ass came out. Ahead of my time as ever; I am soothsayer.
Popped around a show in the Scottish Gallery while in town; Archie Forrest, someone I was not familiar with I have to confess but enjoyed his colours very much. Plenty of my favourite orange, various lovely blues and some really ballsy reds in some of the still lifes. Fondness also apparent for patterned textiles which obviously appeals to me; I am in pattern central just now and few surfaces are safe from the printing potato and the scratchy pointy end of my brush.
I really want to get into some still lifeing myself but the cats intervention cannot be underestimated, so I will have to incorporate elements and objects of a more weighty nature and definately not flowers. These will be merely viewed as food or enemies and injested or flung across the room accompanied by yowling (interchangeable). I am still working on little boards for the show in the Leith Festival; just working out framing dates and possibilities so I can get it all done before my bibby holiday to Southsea. Hoping for more inspiration of a nautical bent, but who knows what will ensue - it is never the obvious that attracts my sketching pen.
Guns blazing on the food budget today, in part due to a sublime bit of planning this week including the midweek leftover night and tonight the chicken breasts that were marinating happpily since the chicken massacre a few days ago. Not true, actually, as is was Stu at work on that occasion so the portion control was a little better and so the knifework. We now also have two big tubbies of chicken stock in the freezer for a later risotto, noodley thing or similar.
The chix had been wallowing in some very good soy sauce that I chose merely on a whim in the Chinese supermarket on Leith Walk, but which has proved excellent and quite gloopy/rich, making a change from some of the piddly versions oft found in many a supermarket. Found a fanatastic one in Vietnam, but haven't bumped into it over here and to be honest cannot remember the name for love nor money, so may no longer recognise it if confronted.
With our chicken we knocked up a stir-fry cum braised rice; the rice cooked off in our trusty rice cooker and mixed up with some (frozen) stir fry veg. mix jollied up with some of the aforementioned gloopy soy, some dried chilli and sweet chilli sauce.
Well ahead of the budget going into my solo day off tomorrow, so I may have the elusive pleasure so rare in our lives of a day without any shopping at all - just luxuriating in the sensuous pleasure of a few new tubes of paint and a blank board; I am thinking twilight garden, with pinky red sky and lush leafage.
Paint quantity is as necessary as quality; I can totally trash a picture trying to scrimp out the last of a tube or randomly substituting another colour due to lack of materials. It's a fools economy at the end of the day as I end up with a less than satisfactory result from a day's work and a niggling dissatisfaction at not achieving the elusive translation from picture in head to 2D version on piece of wood.

Slippin' on skins

Some stories are so good you just have to go right out and steal them; today I start with an anecdote from a legendary raconteur who co-works with me in my day-money-job.

'After the war, my father went and bought a banana, which had of course become a scarce and cherished food item. Carefully he divided it between himself, mother, myself and my three brothers and we enjoyed it greatly. Afterwards, us four boys spent the whole afternoon slipping on the skin, until there was literally nothing left of it - brought up with cartoon antics and slapstick humour, the banana skin slipping was a far more exciting event than tasting the fruit!'

I just looovvve it - picture those four little blond Swedish boys leaping on the ever diminishing banana skin... I have a tear in my eye.

Tonight is leftover night, an event for which we too have cartoons to thank; Mr and Mrs Incredible to be precise. It may be a little on the sad side but we relish our leftovers and peek into our little plastic butter tubs with glee on the given night; its hardly a recipe but for the record....

Take contents of plastic butter tubs saved over previous days; in this instance curry, chilli and some rice. Heat on the hob and wrap in (surprise) wraps - some great deals to be had on these, with some salad, or tomatoes, or whatever else comes to hand. Tonight we have creme fraiche - wot a bunch of poshies. What this equates to in budget world is a free day of food! We are laughingly well up this week , to the unheard of degree that we went on an Amazon rampage and actually bought some entertainment commodities for the household! Woo hoo.

Reading some lovely comments from a fellow painter on the web about the light and colour of the Sud de France, as beloved by many beloved painters of hers and mine (and the gatepost's).

I remember being knocked sideways by the light in Dubrovnik as I really hadn't appreciated before then that light could be different according to location - I mean its the same sun innit? There, the terracotta pantiles reflected on the undersides of passing seagulls, giving them orange tummies, and the light out on the islands was shimmering, ethereal and misty all at once, like magic. So the south of France is creeping to the top of my 'must visit' list for the end of our impoverished year; learnt to drive on the right in Tuscany last spring, so a road trip to Antibes..... mmm mmmm smell the Mediterranean pines in the hairdryer wind....

Memo JK

Two days of Ambre Solaire and I think I'm in the far east. It's been said a million times I'm sure but scent memories really are so vivid and concrete. Some of the biggest whacks of memory come from a smell that just knocks you static trying to place it; sun tan lotion and sun on my face and I am in so many places at once. Beautiful morning again today; walking to part time job along the burn has replaced last years swimming as mental and physical exercise of choice. Last year was hard graft and it got to be that the best moments were swimming and breakfast, not a great place to be in, but I did invent a fine breakfast. Soak a bowl of porridge oats overnight in fruit juice of choice - mine is apple and mango. Add dried fruit in the morning for chewy fruit or overnight as well for plump fruit - I'm a chewy girl myself. Stir in a good glob of vanilla or toffee yoghurt and enjoy a mighty and soul buffing breakfast.

A fly landed on my head today and it was so weighty and clumsy that I really felt it, and then its strides over my scalp. Very strange feeling; it was a bluebottle too, not my favourite life form, which reminds me of educational posters of my youth warning against poor hygiene.

Last night's chile was for a reason, I have learned; all planning for left over night tomorrow. Tonight Stu created the other half of the leftovers - another chicken curry, but the real deal this time. Mine was a little bit of a trainer curry. Sweet potato and coconut in my hands can end up a little like exotic baby food, but it was tasty enough. I failed in my duty to watch the pro. at work in his version of my chicken leg massacre, but I'm sure it was as swift and precise as i mine was ham fisted. Big handful of dried chillies in tonight and some fish sauce - that goes in a lot of things and I think we are maybe a little conditioned to its taste now by the expressions the mums pull sometimes when we feed them!

While the boy cooked, I progressed with my pic of Janey. I have been studying hydrangea flowers as they come out - a ring of squarey petals around tight round buds, so there is one of them in the window and a model boat that I drew in a friends house on Arran last year. I am trying to keep the colours a bit neutral as I go along at the moment so I get a better feel for where I can use the brights. I love adding turquoise, orange, violet, but trying to balance them can go horribly wrong, hence the measured approach. Doesn't always work, mind - there's a few horrors lurking in the corners of the studio!

Pay day tomorrow - still relying on the day job to keep us afloat and dreaming of the day I can cut the hours back. JK Rowling in this afternoon which always reminds me how surreal the whole 'fame' or 'success' thing is. I remember serving her coffee in Nicolsons, now nearly fifteen years ago, and now bleedin hell she's only a goddam multi-millionaire. Strange having the walk on part in her life as 'girl who serves coffee to single mother struggling on the cusp of great things.' But hey, someone's serving me coffee - at least when I can afford it...

Memo JK; Marchmont Gallery, Warrender Park - two pretty neat pics in the window by emerging Scottish artist. Check it out.

Sugar blues

So the little Scottish summer continues! Usually we would be bemoaning the arrival of the haar, which blots out so many potentially lovely days, but we basked again. Comedy shopping at work today; everyone at the checkout stocking up on sausages, ice cream, Pimms, beer, bamboo skewers... and pointing out the weather and the fact that they are about to be out in it and, yes I am not. Ha, I had my time; up early again and indulged in a spot of extreme weeding with Stu of our neighbours drive, which had matured to a full meadow over our year away in Arran. A couple of hours and some seriously dirty fingers and we supped our tea in the sun on happy clean slabs.

My culinary experiments are being hampered by an evil stomach which was probably brought on by a bit of a cake-fest when my ma visited; I have an unhappy relationship with sugar and can only shovel or ignore it. I actually used to have a recurring dream/nightmare in childhood about being forced to eat bags of sugar by the spoon in a recreation of the room from Rumpelstiltskin (Ladybird edition). So yeah, off the sugar for now and nay puds. Had to watch Stu polish off his fruit salad and Arctic Roll tonight, which brings me to another question - why do all of our 'budget' meals end up being a 1970s rerun? I guess its a parental budget memory from out youth, but there is a real pattern emerging here...

Did a fine piece of paint water ingestion this morning; never a good idea to keep your drinking an d paint brush washing water in identical bottles, but I do, to my cost. Tastes very chalky, unnaturally warm and a little perfumey. Not good. I have to keep everything in bottles instead of glasses to avoid Twig the cat's attentions; she really loves water in any shape or form and even gets excited by plant watering. We are now used to finding her in the sink.

Another painting annoyance kind of solved today; the mystery of the knackered filberts. A filbert being a tapered but not pointy brush which I love to use, and the mystery revolving around why so many end up bent and useless after careful washing. Answer? Ex boyfriend's paintbrush cleaning technique is fatally flawed and causes brush hairs to splay. Years it took me to figure this out? Don' t even ask, but I am beginning to look into the possibility of truth in the blonde/stupid correlation.

Finished another pic for Leith which I have spent the afternoon thinking of titles for. Decided on 'Strawberry morning' for the exuberant red dawn sky behind my little meditator.

Good lordy bee I am tired tonight; a humid one and still a bit of book to read, so off I scoot.

Hotty day

Shopping list pretty straightforward today; cat chix and fruit for Stu; thought I'd get that out the way early as Tesco would doubtless descend into horrors as the day progressed. It was a full on scorchio day today and being on a backshift made me eager to make the most of the time I had... I really did think of all the waiters and waitresses out there wiping the outside tables and practising their sunny smiles, I really did... and god it felt good. Twelve years waiting tables gives me the divine right to sit in the sun and smile to myself whenever humanly possible. Never fear, I will not forget my roots, nor shall I abuse the waiters in my turn, but I will enjoy my freedom.

Anyway, dinner today is a bit of a bore in a way as its a super fave - curry night! Still plenty of permutations to be had and corners cut, however, and I did this one early to save piddling about at nine tonight when I could be getting out the potato prints! Did have to cross a particularly wobbly bridge however, not a fave- dissecting chicken legs. However many times I see Stu do it I still bodge the whole thing and end up with a massacre and horrible fatty things all up my arms. Yum yum. Still, managed to keep cats clear by various diversion tactics and even got the old pot out and put the massacre in to make stock while I curried.

One onion, pinched from Stu's mum, (who I took to the airport today bound for Essex), some garlic and cubed up sweet potato fried slooowly but surely and non stickily - a hint - let the food cook, don't keep shoogling it all the time or it will end up mashed and not cooked. By the same token, let the sucker alone too long and you have stickio. Add a couple of spoons of curry paste and cook until the fragrance of the spices is revealed; then in with the chicken, cook further and in with the coconut milk. Open freezer, turn away, remove cat, find Waitrose bean and pea mix and chuck in a good handful or two, let it simmer and yer off. I think a curry always tastes better if left ignored all day and reheated (properly!) at night, but it might just be me...

The other food note of the day was my uber purchase of two chickens and a pack of mince for £8.22, which will probably last us most of the week; add that to the £1.50 pack of chicken mince I procured today and we are laughin. My chicken stock is simmering and alll is good in the world - I AM the small calm centre of the universe.

Painting was by nature brief today, but battled successfully with the colour green for the first time in a long while. Working on the next of my blatantly commercial pictures for the Leith show at Ritchie Collins Gallery, which will see me paint 'live' for the second time this year. I am just getting my head around the fine balance between painting something that other people will want to buy and not selling my soul. So far this has merely meant pulling the plug on some of my stranger ideas and putting 'The Boatman' on a back burner. He is a little too sinister for a family show, although he had gradually mutated in by sketch book from an altogether scary and dirty man to a more oriental, Japanese wood block kind of guy. Ve shall see.

Lady I'm on at the moment in her green dress is another subject that I doodle with often, but have yet to paint; the widow at the window awaiting her love returning from sea. Watching 'The Perfect Storm', listening to Kate Rusby, visiting the fishing ports of Fife - it always comes from somewhere!

Potato printing tomorrow on the patterny bits; these ones are quite watery and so I cut them yesterday with the aim of letting them dry out on the newspaper; should be good to go in the morning... (Aldi's swiss muesli 99p, my fave by far.)