A post for Poppy.

A small angel who has unknowingly reinstated a bit of purpose for me.

A friends’ landlord once left out list of things to be fixed so they could add to it if they had anything that needed looking at.

Going down the list, it included things like a window that won’t shut properly, fridge light, bulb needs changing in hallway etc.

And the final point?

“My broken heart :(“

I still take delight in wondering how the landlord reacted.

Terrifying Halloween costume ideas:

1. A rizla pillow: that singular thin/flat pillow which graces some beds (optional: thin navy sheets to complement)

2. A toilet without a brush

3. An energy statement

4. A bottle of 2 in 1 head and shoulders

5. Spotify Wrapped

6. A person who suggests going for drinks at Be At One

“Best of luck with your escapades as a doctor - hope you don’t get anything too weird on your shoes!” (said in passing to a doctor at my art class)

“Did you see, they are doing finger painting downstairs.” (said to a guy in reference to people having their nails painted, also paired with hand gestures of me pointing to my fingers to mimic… fingers… as he stares confused at me)

Both recent examples of trying but awkwardly failing to string a proper sentence together when speaking to new people.

We’ve all been there with the “Happy Birthday” “thanks, you too!” I just manage to continue that on a regular basis in different ways.

Like one time, telling someone they’re “going to regret THAT haircut” when they’re older. And saying it so boldly, with no hesitation, when it was actually not supposed to come out like that at all. In fact, put into context it was part of a joke me and a colleague were making earlier on in the day about photos we use for work on social media accounts being decades old so if people were to get a haircut they didn’t like, to expect to see it resurface for years to come. But my brain forgot to mention that part.

Safe to say, a lot of things I say in passing will forever haunt me.

Apologies in advance.

Make sure to read the small print.

Just as I was reading political messages on an art piece exhibited by Gommie, someone comes over, stands and poses in front of it without reading the content.

Let’s just say, phrases written on the piece such as: ‘I asked a Welshman for a full english and he gave me a dump on a plate’ or ‘Boris Johnson is a coked-up pervert’ aren’t quite used in the same tone as ‘well behaved women don’t make history.’

“So, this is the woman we’re looking for?”

“Yes.”

Nathan Fielder, the man who has my heart.

P.s. watch Nathan for You if you have a spare minute, it’s great.

People hold home.

Through all changes and fond farewells.

Home still exists.

A new chapter.

London as seen from Parliament Hill.

Would you reverse your car into someone else’s (parked car) to get their number?

This has all been sparked because a photo was sent to me of a note left on someone’s car.

The note read: ‘another car reversed into your car, I have dash footage - [mobile number]’

A small part of me imagined an ulterior motive to providing the dash footage. Like the person who wrote the note was actually the person who had reversed their car into the car and now they had an excuse to leave their number. So by the off chance they could get a number AND look like the hero for calling out an (imaginary) person.*

A risk of an insurance claim. But isn’t a chance at LOVE a risk worth taking? (no)

I wonder how many cars they’d have to reverse into to find the one.

P.s. it was thankfully just dash footage in the end. And sadly the bump was not enough to claim.

*In hindsight, I think I’ve watched too much Nathan For You with his convoluted plans. I love that show.

My mum said something to me the other day.

It’s about happiness involving:

Someone to love

Something to do

Something to look forward to

Though emotions are a complex arena, I thought this was quite nice.

And just found out it’s based on a quote from writer Rita Mae Brown. Excuse me whilst I go down a Wikipedia hole on her life.

There’s some free reign and independence when it comes to earning actual, full on grown-up money.

Like you ARE actually allowed to buy a whole birthday cake if you wanted one.

Dairylee Lunchables can now be bought without any persuading first.

So I’ve used this opportunity to go mad and buy a variety pack.

There are two ways my younger self could view this:

Impressed by the freedom that I could buy this pack by my own choosing

or

Disappointed because this is classed as an exciting moment of a week in my adult life

I definitely think it’s the latter.

Do doo do

Do do

Do doo do

Do do

Wood Pigeon call

Lyrics: lyrics.com

Song available in MP3 or stream it EVERYWHERE in UK

Multiple planets in one universe. Multiple perspectives in one life.

I am Mrs Nesbitt.

(Toy Story 1995)

Invisibility: a blessing and a curse.

On the one hand, it can bring lack of judgement, ability to walk with anonymity.

But

Invisibility lends itself to fading away.

This can become too close to home.

No ability to shape shift nor standout.

A ghost in the current circumstances.

But a new version is waiting to exist.

The flow state: when you become so focussed on the task at hand that everything else falls away.

The reason I bring this up is because the flow state was mentioned in a podcast I’ve just been listening to. Something which I tend to put on whilst painting in attempt to tone down my thoughts and try to focus.

In this podcast, they mentioned how they would pick up small bits at a time and not put pressure on the outcome (easier said than done, I know).

If they were going to produce a song they would be like ‘I’ll just play about on the keyboard for an hour’ rather than setting the ambiguous goal of ‘I’m going to write a song’ and fall at the first hurdle due to the amount of overwhelm that can cause.

As a result, they warmed their mind up to the task and unlocked the flow state.

This is something that resonates with me (not the song writing part, I must add, I’m tone deaf and my music days peaked in year 4 recorder lessons).

Part of the reason I started doing these sketches/micro blogs was to encourage this state.

To just do and not think so much about the pressure of the outcome - to enjoy the process of creating.

Before, I was getting overwhelmed with commissions, which, though grateful for, I found tricky at points as I would go from 0-100.

And though the pressure still creeps in, doing these sketches have brought out more opportunity to let things flow.

I was feeling a tad overwhelmed today.

So I did the best thing for that situation: got outside and went to the shop for food.

I took the route down a road where a cat is often hanging out.

I’m never one to believe that cats have any real empathy. Most of the time, I see the back of them if I’m having a bad day.

BUT

Out of nowhere, Sharon pops out. (given this nickname because she projects the same energy as a middle-aged woman who hangs prosecco o’clock sign in her kitchen)

I do the usual pspspspsps and she saunters across to me.

Happily and calmly letting me stroke her (probably thinking I have food).

So this is for you Sharon. Thanks for making my day a little better.

Hope the rest of your day went well xo

“I’m a big advocate for putting fruit in salad.”

My friend said to me yesterday.

I’m yet to be convinced that this is ok.

Then again, in the same breath, I was shovelling spoonful’s of cold sweetcorn straight from the tin into my mouth.

I don’t think I have a say in this.

To you:

Think of the best thing that has happened for you this year, big or small. No limitations, just something that fills you with contentment. If you have multiple, that’s even better.

It could be your curiosity to explore. Supporting others. The many friendships you keep close. The animals in your life. Having the courage to choose your own route.

Got it? Hold onto it for just this moment.

Let it glow and float around you, just like a jellyfish moving through the sea.

And use this moment as a reminder that things are going to be alright for the next part.

A few good things have included a rose.

The garden at my childhood home.

The first painting I remember being proud of in primary school.

And the first encounter to someone I’m now sharing a bit of life with.

Watsinmysketchbook: holiday edition

Watsinmysketchbook: holiday edition

Watsinmysketchbook: holiday edition

There’s been one longstanding member of the Cabinet Office, meeting up to many a vote of confidence: Larry the Cat.

Once a rescue from Battersea Cats and Dogs home, his wikipedia page refers to him now as ‘Chief Mouser’, with his main duties including “greeting guests to the house, inspecting security defences, and testing antique furniture for napping quality.”

Prime minister potential then?

Raven. 50/50. Tracy Beaker. Arthur. The Queen’s Nose. Stupid. M.I. High. Chucklevision. The Slammer. Fairly Odd Parents. Get Your Own Back. Lazy Town. Mona The Vampire. Yvon of The Yukon. The Cramp Twins. SMart. The Bazil Brush Show. Newsround (with Lizo). Best of Friends (You suck).

Works of art.

My favourite part about a recent trip to The Comedy Store wasn’t the comedy.

Don’t get me wrong, the comedians were very good. Just that there were two people in the audience who really made it.

The finger wagging guy who would point and wag his fingers in agreement with what the comedian said. Joke or not.

And he was in tandem with the drunken standing ovation woman, who again, every second joke would stand up and applaud.

They were so candid about it. And I loved that.

Recently, I drank wine in a public toilet.

It was very nice actually.

At a place called WC (Wine and Charcuterie) which was once a public loo in the Victorian era. Now a wine bar that prides itself on this information.

I’ve also had a pint at a multi-storey car park. Again a nice experience.

What next London? Cocktails in a working sewer?

This one is about admiration*.

It’s admiration for the close** people in my life. They:

Choose to see the world.

Take the (sometimes scary) step to getting help.

Endure exhausting nightshifts to bring new life into the world.

Push past the challenges and find outlets to manage - which lead to amazing things.

Volunteer to support refugees.

Have lost someone close and manage in the most emotionally intelligent way, whilst still wrapped up in the rawness of it never getting easier.

Choose their identity.

That doesn’t even scratch the surface. They do so much more but my brain can’t squeeze it into this one sitting.

All I know is that I’m continuously proud of them all.

*not exactly the word I wanted to use when writing this, but close. It’s because it can be defined as ‘warm approval’ and those I think about when writing this, don’t need approval.

**my admiration stretches way further than this, it’s just easier/I’m lazy because I have those people right in front of me with their stories to be extra proud.

I don’t know about your experience, but I swear Spotify is a low-key torture technique.

If I’m not careful and leave it playing, it always loops back round to the same songs.

The repetition is mind-numbing. And I don’t know how to prevent it.

Even if I did make a playlist, ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams will still find its way into the shuffle.

Please, make it stop.

A lovely memory last year: sitting with my dad at the (very cold) peak of Snowdon, eating a bag of Wotsits and looking forward to the pint we were going to have once we had clambered our way back down the (apparently easy?!) path.

How long can I make it last?

It’s 10pm, I can’t go to the shops now. So I curl up the end of the tube even more in hope of a small blob. And this time, it works.

I will get a new one tomorrow (I won’t).

“Hello I am going to scream at the top of my lungs at 3am in the most haunting way possible and wake you.”

- Not so fantastic Mr Fox.

A cocktail of emotions.

Bittersweet flavours. A complex range of ingredients.

A dash of joy, combined with a hint of sadness and topped with a garnish of frustration.

The menu changes frequently.

The timing of Happy Hour too.

One thing that is guaranteed: a mix flowing in every human.

Another inspiration from works I’ve seen and wanted to try out. And because I already had the colours out from the previous carp painting.

I’ve always wanted to try out painting a Koi Carp.

Am I a fish guy now? Should I be starting a carpstagram?

Have you ever wondered how many photos taken by strangers you’ve appeared in?

Today made me think of that.

I was in Itsu, thoroughly enjoying veggie gyozas when a guy walks in, stands by the door and takes a panning video of the whole place. Me included, mid-bite.

Then I got to thinking how many times I have been a non playable character / extra in everyone else’s main character moment.

I do hope it’s not all of me in the middle of enjoying food. Most probably is though.

A recent memory that I will forever be fond of.

Millie: the literal party pooper.

Here’s a story about the beers and the bees, plus a beekeeper named Steve.

1 million bees live by a brewery. In a corridor, specially built for them by Steve.

He tends weekly to beehives painted in bright colours to replicate the beach huts which line the coast of Southwold (where the brewery is based).

In summer, the honey they make is supplied to the local area. In winter, the bees feed off the leftover cider so it’s not wasted.

All of this done with the aim to save the bees.

So they can live happily ever after by the brewery and the sea…

Morning coffee. A daily joyful ritual.

Immersing yourself in water.

A wonderful feeling.

To be floating freely.

A sketch just because.

Because I haven’t met the daily target for 4 days.

Because I’m currently on a National Express coach (standard).

Because I haven’t drawn a face in a long time.

Because I needed this outlet.

Who needs the sound of the ocean, when you have the sound of aeroplane engines and emergency sirens.

Or a refreshing ocean breeze, when you can get really dense smells of metal and bins.

Don’t worry about sprawling out on a towel, when you can contort your body out of the window to catch a tiny bit of the sun’s rays.

No need for happy hour cocktails sat by the water, when there’s heaving beer gardens with an exclusive last space availability by the bin.

A boat ride to see islands is overrated, when you can enjoy a tube ride with a sweaty armpit in your face.

Visit London this Summer: beautiful one day, perfect the next.

My brain is not in it today to write something. So instead I’ve just done a sketch of me as Thomas the Tank Engine.

Because I’m running out of steam.

And I don’t choo-choo-choose… Day 30 as a day to function.

“Are Sea-Monkeys edible?”

I see pop-up on my Google search as I’m looking for an image of sea monkeys to remind myself what they look like. And came across that question which I never thought would be a thing.

I must say, up close, they look terrifying.

We were discussing in the flat about having a pet and the chances being incredibly low because it would mean fitting another body into an already small space (as lovely as it would be to have one).

We joked about Sea Monkeys being a possibility. Arguably the original pet.

Sadly though, I never had one. My only encounter with them was accidentally spilling a friends’ one over the table at her birthday party when I was younger.

Never too late to get them I suppose.

By the way, the answer to if they are edible or not is:

“As a survivalist forum recently concluded, Sea Monkeys probably are edible — they are, after all, just shrimp. Still, the forum users concluded that Sea Monkeys are nutritionally questionable and probably not an ideal source of food, much to the disappointment of the person who initially asked the question.”

“Mystery and noble purity are remarkable.” - Mop Maestro: window cleaner for high-rise buildings.

A quote on the box of a very cool window cleaning gadget (the smart version as it refers to itself) that my friend has kindly lent me.

Taking inspiration from a mop and getting excited to use it - this is my life now.

Each time a quiet Saturday rolls around, there’s a small internal battle to get out of bed for Park Run.

Luckily, a friend will sometimes be there so we can run together. Both in the same mindset that we are too tired to push ourselves and using it as a chance to catch up.

Over the years it has been an event I have often taken for granted and overlooked its benefits.

Such as the encouragement that comes with it.

Like you would never usually get that many people cheering you on and saying well done (imagine if a passer-by on the street started clapping at you and cheering in your face).

Or the sense of community it naturally develops.

You are all in this tired haze together and wondering why you are up this early on a Saturday and running 5K ‘for fun’ (I certainly am).

Without fail though, it always feels like a good start to the weekend.

“Isn’t it crazy how each light represents a life?”

My flatmate said to me on the New Year’s Day just gone. A sentence she overheard from strangers talking on the train.

We were both in the middle of the existential dread that graciously comes with the turning of a new year, plus the night before.

And we agreed that after hearing this, our heads couldn’t be dealing with this added overwhelm.

But many months later, that comment hasn’t really gone away. Because each time I look out of the window, I am reminded how each light represents a life.

‘Dog birthday party supplies’

‘Birthday bandana for a small dog’

‘Pawsecco’

Is what my Google search history is looking like this evening.

How did it get to this?

P.s. If our pets could sue us for negligence, exhibit A would be: ‘Let’s Pawty’ balloons.

I don’t know about you, but before moving to London I had this expectation of planning things last minute and being really casual about meeting up.

This could not be further from reality.

With each friend we’re having to book at LEAST 2 months in advance to just grab a coffee.

And when we do meet, so much has happened.

It’s almost a case of preparing some notes, creating an agenda, maybe even going so far as putting together a PowerPoint presentation, so we can tick off everything that has happened in that time.

Then opening up our phone calendars to book our next catch up in advance.

And don’t get me started with the group chat. It feels like we’ve struck gold if we manage to get a date when everyone is available.

Can you guys do July 2032?

Running/ walking / getting outside has been a reliable outlet.

Even better when there is pint at the end to aim for.

‘What does a double rainbow mean?’

I typed into google a few years ago.

Transformation. Good fortune. New beginnings.

All words I wanted to hear at the time.

Ignoring the scientific way of how a double rainbow is formed (still interesting to be fair).

And settling for a gentle nod from the world that things were going to be alright for the next bit.

“Imagine if we had an elephant as the Queen.”

I overhear a child saying to his family member on the tube.

We have stopped at Elephant and Castle station where they believe an elephant lives there in a castle.

Their imagination running wild coming up with scenarios like the queen elephant having tea with the president.

But imagination falling short when the family member asks “and who would be the king then?”

“Another elephant.”

How often do you unlock a core memory?

Today was one of those for me. A simple arm around someone whilst walking, made me instinctively want to start chanting “who wants to play duck, duck, goose.”

Probably not the most pleasant way for the other person to be received. But still, at least they knew what I was talking about so I didn’t seem totally insane.

I was surprised they did know what I was on about and how universal this is as a thing from school. To walk around the playground till the line grew and grew of people recruiting others to play. To join the duck, duck, goose cult.

Imagine if we never grew out of this.

I wonder if you know. How it really feels. To be left outside alone. When it’s cold out here.

Is what me and a friend are singing sitting on the grass together before shortly deciding to head out of the festival early.

I’m getting too old for this.

Why is it a military operation to get the house ready before guests arrive?

I go into panic mode.

Sweeping floors after hoovering them, polishing plant leaves, and cleaning behind the sofa.

As if our whole friendship balances on the whether they spot a spec of dust on my plant.

They know me well enough by now to know I’m not a perfect, tidy human by any means.

But each time I forget about my sanity and go into this cleaning frenzy

So they arrive to a flustered host in a clean environment rather than a relaxed one in a sorta messy environment.

I don’t know what’s better?

“Cheryl’s just passed out in her wedding dress x” - I type in a text to a friend.

“She’s now heading upstairs because she’s had an accident in it too.”

Cheryl Boots has been a part of my life for all of 4 weeks.

Me and a friend (mainly me) have become invested in her life.

I send regular updates to them, making sure they’re hearing how she’s doing and what she’s been up to.

But whilst I spend hours finding out about Cheryl’s life, there’s a lot of life admin that piles up in mine.

By the time I come away from it all, the minor existential dread kicks in.

She is only a Sim.

And I didn’t get her to replace the oven before I came away from the game.

Put aspirin in your washing machine and see what happens.

Is what I’m currently reading over actually getting on with an evening of painting.

A commission I have been set, but without a deadline. This sends me into a procrastination frenzy.

Apparently adding aspirin to your laundry can work wonders?

It makes your clothes less dull…

No, I should be painting, not reading this.

But the overwhelm kicks in. Thinking about making a mistake each time I add anything to the canvas.

I stare at my phone, then back to the rather sad looking canvas.

At least I now know about putting aspirin in a washing machine.

A tip I’ll never use.

The other day I went on a rollercoaster through London.

I swear since moving here, about 80% of my life is now on public transport.

This time I was heading to Greenwich. Got on at Bank, sat down (facing forwards?! This is rare) in the front carriage and I could see out the front.

We set off through a tunnel of lights.

And climbed up until we hit daylight and were surrounded by buildings. We weaved our way through the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf. Little hills on the track to go over and corners to turn.

We travelled over bridges where people below were out on boats (one of them was a BBQ boat you can hire, noted for another time).

If you can’t already tell, I was low-key excited about this journey.

It made a huge improvement compared to travelling in a straight line up and down through darkness on the Northern Line.

It made me think: A) wow I’m quite sad to be THIS excited and B) I’m gonna lose it on the Elizabeth Line.

Is it just me or are haircuts actually not as relaxing as first anticipated?

The sink is the worst part for me.

I lay back and put my head onto it. At the slightest contact, it shudders down onto my shoulders.

My head and neck now at an incredibly awkward angle. Me trying to do some kind of weird gym strength training to keep them in position.

With every wash and rinse, my circulation gets progressively cut off.

Surely this is the last bit?

No. The head massage now.

Something that is supposed to be relaxing, feeling more like a torture technique.

As they wash the final bit off, I politely try to reposition my head without disrupting the process.

A fleeting alleviation as they adjust my head back into position.

Finally, a towel comes out and is wrapped around my head.

I get up with relief, make my way back to the chair and sit down.

And am met with some toad-human staring back at me (me).

The pain.

What did we do to deserve animals?

I cannot begin to describe how lovely it is to be in the company of one.

Alice, my family cat, has been in our circle for many years.

Yet every time she walks into the room, it feels as if I’m meeting her for the first time.

Seeing her never gets old.

I’ve been lucky enough to be commissioned portraits of cats and dogs over the last few years

To then pass onto their owner for it to be hung up, framed, or given to a friend or family member.

A reminder of how much we hold our animals close to us.

If your pet is nearby, please give them a hug (from me in particular as I’m missing being in the company of one).

And remind them that they are quite literally the best things to exist.

“I love the National Express because I feel like wherever I go, I can express myself nationally” - thanks to TikTok for this gem of a quote.

It certainly resonates because I’ve been on more coaches this year compared to, well, ever.

They have been the aid to a lot of new experiences.

In February, I used the Megabus to head to Niagara Falls from Toronto (who’d have thought Megabus was a thing in Canada?)

After hazily waking up from a nap on a night coach, I looked out the window and caught sight of the Albert Bridge beautifully lit up. Something I’ve wanted to see since moving to the area.

The National Express has allowed me to express myself nationally in Wales for a fraction of the cost compared to getting a train to Cardiff.

Plus, ample bus replacements back from Ipswich (arguably the most exciting of ALL experiences - a MUST do)

And we’re less than halfway through the year.

But 2022 already is: the year of the coaches.

Excited to see what comes next.

New experiences and change is sometimes hard. Even the small stuff.

Today was an example of that.

I set out rather apprehensively to Brockwell Lido.

It was a new experience for me and I didn’t really know what to expect.

Where do I change? How many people are going to be swimming? What do I need to bring? Where do I sign in? Have I definitely reserved a place?

When I reached the park, it was being evacuated due to an incident.

Not today.

But what now? I had it in my head that I was going to be swimming.

Had to think on my feet a bit. Reminded myself there was a pool at my gym.

Another new space I was yet to be familiar with.

Another hurdle.

I went back the way I came and got to the gym. Navigated my way through the new space to the pool.

And felt a bit proud that I managed it and was swimming.

Another tiny action that felt huge.

Last year I made a life-altering decision.

I joined the library.

Now I get very excited every time I get a book out.

My friends find it funny as it seems like I’ve only just grasped the existence of the library.

I suppose that’s true in some ways. Like I now appreciate what it does in terms of sustainability and accessibility. I have a newfound respect for it.

My life will never be the same.

Ever since I found out triple drains and a single magpie are bad luck.

Stepping into the road when I see 3 drains, or occasionally, into the way of people. Shortly followed by a weird look from them because in their eyes there was plenty of space for me to walk straight, not walk into them.

But there are 3 drains there, don’t you see.

The irony will be that one day I step out into the road to avoid 3 drains and be unlucky doing that.

But I’d still blame it on that one time I didn’t salute a magpie.

What kind of egg are you?

Apparently, I’m hard boiled. Smells but is solid.

I commonly refer to people as either good or bad eggs. But never really delved into what type of egg they are.

Until

I came across this Buzzfeed quiz (of course there’s one on finding out the type of egg you are)

To get a good sense of character, I will from now on only be taking your personality traits seriously until I find out what type of egg you are.

So, what are you?

https://www.buzzfeed.com/joannaborns/what-kind-of-egg-are-you

Do you have a terrible (but great) film that is a classic go-to?

I was first introduced to Shit Movie Sundays at uni: the evenings that gave us Sharknado 1, 2, and 3.

I later learnt that a friend dedicated nights to Nicholas Cage films.

That same friend who I went on a holiday with where quotes from the Lizzie McGuire movie were the main focus.

Another friend (also on the holiday) later admitted to having never seen the film. So we premiered the Lizzie McGuire movie for her. It was just as good, if not better, watching it as a 27-year-old.

Just recently, we tried (and failed due to it being on US Prime only) to watch VelociPastor - a story about a priest transforming into a velociraptor.

And today is Boss Baby’s turn.

Recommendations for terrible (but great) films welcome.

Do you have a favourite service station?

Mine’s South Mimms near Reading. Purely because it’s one of the only ones I can remember and I’ve been there more than once.

Probably not the best argument to put forward for Top 10 Service Stations in the UK.

A couple of times I’ve brought up service stations as a bit of a joke. Once to a family who were visiting and once to a friend.

Both times were a replica of the Gavin and Stacey Christmas episode where they have an in-depth conversation about their favourite service stations.

Both times, ended in comprehensive debates about different ones. From favourite to least.

Both times, made me realise this is actually a serious subject.

Tube etiquette: what would you do?

You’re sitting on the tube. It’s busy.

Someone gets on and takes the last empty seat next to you.

It gets to the next stop where the majority of people get off.

The carriage is now empty. It’s just you and the person sitting next to you.

Do you keep sitting there? Or do you get up and move? Why does it feel creepy / borderline illegal to keep sitting there? But also rude to move?

P.s. in this case, I stayed put out of fear they would hate me for moving away from them. But I wish I moved. They smelt of vinegar.