Just musin'

I was playing around with colour and paint today and a funny thing happened. The spoon I was mixing paint with had picked up some really interesting effects. It's like the artists' pallettes that are often more interesting than the painting itself.
The best paintings are the ones that paint themselves.

My first ever Glasto

Can't believe it. We've got tickets to Glastonbury this year, after long ago giving up the ghost due to not having a fast enough internet connection.
But with this year's registration system, it seems the tickets did not sell out straight away and that meant more folks have had a chance to apply.
No tickets left for the camper van field so that means camping. We are due a dry summer aren't we?
One thing's for sure, we'll be taking chairs. you don't get to my age without learning that sitting on the ground for three days is extremely uncomfortable.

Champagne Ma'am?

One of the long-running debates my hubby, D, and I have is about "class" and whether the class system still exists in the UK.
I think it doesn't, in that, for a long time now in post-industrial Britain, it has been possible to change the class you were born into. And, these days, if you can afford it, you can go anywhere. (I mean social events such as the races, polo, skiing etc.)
D was born in Lancashire when his Dad was just starting out in business; in the haulage trade. His dad left school at 14 and had a very poor background. He often tells of how he had no shoes, did jobs in exchange for stale cakes etc.
But he managed to climb the ladder and went on to do well. However, as far as he was concerned, he was and is, "working class."
They just like to drink champagne with fish and chips now, that's all. Tis good, though.
D thinks you cannot change the class you were born into. Me, I think anything's possible. What does everyone else think?

O to be in England now that April's here

Woke up to a light smattering of snow this morning. Rapidly melting with sunshine and blue skies.

A strange fetish

I absolutely love the smell of oil paint (which is basically linseed oil). It's so evocative and such a sensual medium.
The rituals surrounding painting are a big part of the process. Blending, thinning, mixing and applying the paint.
Whereas many women treat themselves with shoes and clothes, my own fetish is for tubes of oil paint in gorgeous colours. Strange, I know.
The thing about oil paint is it's a living medium; it shines on the surface of the canvas. Whereas, acrylics dry to a plastic finish.
I knew a textile artist who had to stop herself buying offcuts of fabric wherever she went and simply storing them.
One of my favourite stores is the hardware store, particularly if I'm trying a new product. Tomorrow I'll be trying latex paint; can't wait.

(I once knew a cleaning lady who felt she was addicted to the smell of cleaning products. Always use a ventilated space and check manufacturer's instructions.) Felt I had to put that.

Day by the sea

My son, L, had his friend W staying over and they had spent more than enough time on the laptop, XBox 360 etc. Ball-kicking was exhausted and they were bored.
Today started off perfect - brilliant sunshine and hardly a cloud in the sky.
The ideal time to head for the beach. For us, this means the Gower coastline and a 2 hour drive.
Some memories for us, too, as my hubby and I met in Swansea as students years ago. The lodgings and streets don't change, but the area is much more developed these days and the marina is very stylish. I wonder who lives in all these seafront luxury flats that keep being built?
I always feel a bit nostalgic and sad at revisiting my student town, but D says it was all so long ago he's over it now. Funny how memories come back; certain bars, friends you lost touch with years ago. Youth.
Even the prison was still the same, only the wall had been built a little higher.
Anyway, we stopped in Mumbles for a Joe's ice cream covered in nuts and chocolate, then headed for Worm's Head and a three hour walk.
Woods, sand and sea made for boy heaven and I filmed them zooming down sand-dunes and falling over.
A fish and chip tea was essential, before we finally drove the scenic route home.

Van der Graaf Generator

We headed North last night to Wolverhampton Civic Hall to watch a Seventies "prog rock" band named the Van der Graaf Generator.
I don't know much about these guys, but my hubby is pretty keen on them, as were loads of blokes in the audience. (interestingly, there weren't many women there.)
The Civic Hall is a work of art in itself, an art-deco building tinged with fading grandeur and exhibiting the signs of a glorious bygone age when the area would have been at its industrial peak.
The gig was just fantastic; three intense musicians and a spellbound audience. Beer and crisps were good, too.