I’ve just typed “June blog” and its not really, is it ? Its an exciting resume of all the fascinating things which happened during May isn’t it ?
After telling a lot of people that I was 70 in May, I realized that I’m not. I’m only 69. And it’s a beautiful sunny morning as I type, fish are jumpin’ and the cotton…………………..you get my drift.
In October I’ve got an exhibition of Art cartoons in a pukka gallery in Manchester along with a few colleagues. “How can this be ?” I hear you cry. Cartoons in an ART gallery ? Well, its all down to the gallery owner, Richard Goodall – an enlightened art dealer who is not at all precious and sees the humour in Art. So I’m busy taking the **** out of Art’s pomposity.
Yesterday I helped take my daughter and family [Elliot, 6months, Hamish,3yrs] and all their paraphernalia to Manchester airport, there for them to enplane back home to Sydney, NSW. I really don’t think my kids commanded the sheer amount of kit short types do these days, but old geezers say that, don’t they ? Anyway, it was a good, if exhausting visit. The 3 year old is a handful, which translates as “AAAAARGH !”, but in fact, once Hamish worked out that Grandad Bill [actually he calls me Grandma Bill] doesn’t patiently give logical explanations as to why Hamish shouldn’t clout the ever-smiling Elliot around the bonce with whatever comes to hand, climb into unlocked cars or do artificial whingeing about things which don’t go his way, we got along just fine. Grandma Bill just says, “No, don’t do that”. I’ll miss him. Probably the most revealing thing was the way my dog Maggie dealt with the midgets. Elliot got sniffed and illicitly licked. Dropped and flung food was carefully nicked. She dealt with unpredictable Hamish by playing with him, employing the time-honoured dog – human interaction of human throw ball, dog bring ball back. Maggie’s never met little kids before, but within half an hour it was obvious that they liked each other. My fear that Hamish might get a leg removed for hitting the animal never materialized.
I absolutely hate airports with their hopeless signing and directions, rubbish, expensive parking and silly payment systems and Manchester lived up to all my low expectations yesterday. Eventually though, we said goodbye and they disappeared through the “Passengers Only” door and I got a lumpy throat.
There ! Boring domestic stuff over, and I’ll stop now and draw some more Art deflators. Except to say – and without dwelling on the stupid, ignorant horror of the murder of the soldier – that its odd that one of the stupid, ignorant murderers seems to have been courted by spooks. I bet that’ll never be explained. Just like the spook in a gym bag.