Lost dogs

Typing hampered tonight by the fat plaster on my sliced fingertip; I have been holding it out of harms way at work all day with the result that half of the customers probably thought I was giving them the finger. Oops. Jolly sore too, you don't realise how much you bump a finger in the course of a day until it has an ouch monitor on the end of it!

Watched part of a DVD last night which I dislike but can never remember why until I watch (part of) it; the film is 'A History of Violence' and stars the very lovely Viggo Mortenson, probably not long after the hobbity films. Besides having probably the worst script know to man, it is also memorable, as I can now not forget, for totally gross and gratuitous sex scene. Impressively, neither participant actually gets naked, but trust me, the knicker flash and following shenanigans are enough to give you flashbacks of a dirturbing nature. We have made bad jokes about it all evening which I fear I cannot share with you for fear of lowering the level of what must be a family blog, surely.

Stunning morning today and a total lack of human life in the Braidburn valley as I walked in, unusually, which nearly tempted me to break the habit of a lifetime and arrive late so that I could sit by the stream a while longer - just about every pastoral poem I remember from school reappears in my head at such times, but I can never recall whole pieces, just fragments. Maybe tagged together I could create a masterwork of nature worship.

Spent this evening finishing off the very lovely 'Amanda's dream' and messing with the new little boards. I can already see the advantage of trying out ideas in this way, which also gives me a mini picture for my own purposes or to give away to friends; 'Archie's Park' is taken from view from a friend's flat and it is she that pointed out the key features of the area, names of dogs etc, so I may have to let her have the mini pic as a keepsake. She is the proud owner of two of my paintings already and as such my best patron to date, so it is well deserved; I did her a version of the huge painting I have in my living room - 'Le Chien Perdu', one of my favourite pieces about the Montmartre angels, and a lost sausage dog we happened upon near the Pompidou. Actually it wasn't lost at all, but given that I painted it in Montmartre instead of Chatelet, it probably felt lost. The smaller version is titled 'Petit, perdu'. Ha ha, I liked it anyway; nearly called it 'Le Chien Perduling' but that would just be silly, now.

So, angels all around me; angels in my dreams and my sketch book. Still not come up with what I think is a definitive title for the angel show but I have time and plenty of think-space.

Onward tomorrow with a new pic; always a fun time, and pleased with what I learnt from Amanda - much subtler on the colour and left much more relaxed lines.

I am really flopping tonight; must be evil Twig and her five thirty wake up calls...only a few hours away until the next one!