‘The Bridge’

I am moseying along the river bank, heading towards the old wooden bridge. In the far pasture over on the other side, a batch of newly turned-out cattle is cavorting and bucking in celebration of its liberation. Also on the far side, well ahead of and oblivious to the cattle, is a family; a two + two of seemingly stranded townies who are staring with incredulity at the stile over which they must climb in order to cross the bridge. Each of them is carrying rather more bulk than is strictly necessary, and they clearly see the narrow step up … Continue reading ‘The Bridge’

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Photography, art, and copyright

Since re-entering the art world recently (long layoff, politics, diversion, good-career-anyway-so-never-mind!), I’ve discovered something I hadn’t known which is that many people work from photographs, replicating the image with superb (or varying degrees of) accuracy, or placing on it their own interpretation. Many use their own photos for this, after all, it’s got to be more comfortable painting a landscape back indoors than struggling with the elements on a windy hillside, and do cats ever sit still when you need them to? But some don’t, they use images from the internet or cut from magazines and, from what I can tell, many … Continue reading Photography, art, and copyright

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‘I Don’t Like Mondays’

I am travelling to work as usual but I have changed my route slightly with a view to using the outdoor parking area. So, tootling gently along and preparing to turn right at the appointed moment, I am mildly irritated to find that there is an obstruction accompanied by a degree of ill-tempered inter-vehicular communication, blocking my preferred exit so I have to drive on to the next one. It’s 8.15 on a Monday morning, I already don’t need this. Missing that turn means heading for the underground car park, a dismal affair at the best of times, but with … Continue reading ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’

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‘McCartney and Hendrix Should Not Be Held Responsible’

Did we talk about my guitar lessons? No, probably not.  Well, after a zillion years of consuming the product of other people’s efforts, I’ve decided to take a shot at it myself. I did used to play, plucking out a melody on an upside-down old acoustic and receiving the adulation of family members, but that’s where it stopped. When you’re a leftie, anatomically speaking, in the early sixties and have the social constraints both of class and being a GIRL, the idea that account might be taken of your disadvantage never occurs to anyone. Yes, we had Paul McCartney but … Continue reading ‘McCartney and Hendrix Should Not Be Held Responsible’

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Unlocked: final three audio tracks from Let Me Tell You A Story

So go on, let us do that – we’re ready and waiting. ‘Terminus‘; descent into a room of sly eyes. ‘Puddles Like Pillows’. When gravity stops holding things down & litter fills the skies. Phillippa Yaa de Villiers exceptional poem, ‘Origin’.  From Let Me Tell You a Story available from Amazon. Continue reading Unlocked: final three audio tracks from Let Me Tell You A Story

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‘Dressing Up Boxes, and Dressing Up By Wearing Boxes’

You have to be a certain age to remember dressing up boxes. Today’s tiny tots can put in for a replica of the entire Beckham estate for Xmas & call their lawyers if Santa doesn’t deliver, so the frisson of transforming cast off curtains and abandoned antimacassars into theatrical costumery will be lost to them. Our dressing up box was a battered old suitcase out of which we selected ancient curtains & lace doilies to serve as the trappings of royalty. Net curtains became the wings or the floaty ethereal dresses of fairies; the big velvet ones you had to … Continue reading ‘Dressing Up Boxes, and Dressing Up By Wearing Boxes’

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