A decision has been made - I am going to apply to do a BA Fine Art (Drawing) at dear old Swindon college. This, I hasten to add, does not mean I shall be starting a degree in September. I'm applying because if I don't I won't be able to do so at a later stage without starting again. This way I can apply, defer if I want to and then spend a year earning the wherewithall to pay for the tuition. The only way I will get a grant is to banish G to the divorce courts and that seems a little selfish. I feel self-indulgent enough just thinking about spending three years contemplating my creativity with a bodkin in one hand and possibly a pencil in the other. I suppose the expression is - watch this space - the likelihood is that you may have got bored by then anyway.
Today I have mostly been having 'ideas about my final project' - I got to 11 and then stopped. I have lots of ideas but not a great deal of skill to bring them to triumphant fruition. It didn't help that H the photographer who sits beside me seemed to have some kind of sighing syndrome today. It must be very trying for him to sit next to a middle-aged mother of two instead of H the textile darling who sits at the other end of the room - she's a much more suitable booth buddy.
As part of my application I have been provided with a reference which describes me as 'unobtrusively engaging', 'quirkily original', 'self-challenging' and 'occasionally convoluted'. If I'm feeling brave, I'll post the whole thing sometime. It was very odd being described by someone who I have such a limited but unique relationship with. Odd.
Anyway....I also went into Swindon town centre and bought some stickers to finish my collage and some more bananas. Me and mine must have the highest levels of potassium in Wiltshire. I often think of Peter Andre when eating a banana as, you may remember, he gave himself banana poisoning whilst filming the iconic video for one of his forgettable pop tunes when he emerges from the surf looking rather shiny and muscly.
I digress....bananas, apples, potatoes and two reduced steaks for supper (very economical). I think the Sainsburys I visited must be one of the oldest in the country - not very sainsbury-fied and no smiley posters of Jamie Oliver. An unexpected plus for the day.
G is ironing. Having asked him to iron his stuff when I was working I now feel positively guilt-ridden when I hear him get the ironing board out. Is it right I let him iron now I'm contemplating my creativity and not bringing home any bacon? Answers on a starched linen pillowcase please.
PS: Will the commentor (you know who you are) indicate whether you are happy to share your little secret with my wide and extensive readership? I'm sure your secret will remain relatively secret....