Allspicy

The title is because of my state of mind, which is full of eagerness and promise at the idea of two days off and a trip to Glasgow to submit paintings for the RGI show; also because someone asked me what Allspice was and I remembered from some dark corner of my brain and told them. To make it even more remarkable in the world of stored random facts, Stu didn't know. Wowsers. It's weird when that happens; expectations subverted. It's a spice that looks kind of like a peppercorn and is the dried berries of something related to Mulberry and is used in the Jerk seasoning of the Carribean and Middle Eastern cuisine. It is called allspice because in some century the British decided it tasted like a blend of spices that they already knew about; in fact its not a blend at all but just uno spice. Which is what distinguishes it from 'Mixed spice' which is.. mixed spice. Various. Which is what the question was all about in the first place that I miraculously knew the answer to.
Thought of something else miraculous today; following on from how us artists are all sensitive and crazy and self indulgent I realised how amazing it is that Stu, with no former artistic background, puts up with and actively encourages my creativity and introspective behaviour, not to mention talking about figs as if they are creatures or maybe planets. It's really very cool and underlies my whole ability to do everything that I do in the line of painting, writing and general creativity.
So; trip to Glasgow is on now to take pictures to the RGI show. One of the other fascinating discoveries (or observations) of the day is how you don't know how much something means to you until it is about to be taken away; or how what's been making you act cranky until it is removed. So today I discovered that submitting my pictures to the show was a really big deal to me because I almost couldn't do it; so I made it possible by grovelling to fellow cashjobworkers to cover my shift on Thursday. (Thank you Tim; you will be rewarded in art heaven.) Also I realised why I had been feeling so out of sorts. 1) Extreme tiredness, soon to be rectified by two days off instead of one and a return coach journey, sleeping, to Glasgow, 2) Not getting a shot at exhibiting the pictures.
Thinking about torch singers, and the film Priscilla, queen of the desert; both with relation to the pictures that started out as angels and have now morphed into the leaf-bunny ladies. Now morphing further as new ideas and influences either appear or are recognised. For now, however; sleep.
I have two days to get up to artistic mischief.