Part two

The street is filling up. Windows opening, power tools on, new barking on the block, shiny, happy red sports cars from Andorra.
I quite often listen to Vivaldi when I am drawing and I always make the same faces or gestures as the people I draw. It's a good job nobody is watching really.
The invisible wife is in major skulk mode...she almost slithers out of the house next door now. She locked in Fido again yesterday. Of course everybody on the street is trying to get a look at the new man, the new Englishman,who has a white van (business), red, mud coloured car (property in the mountains) and a silver sportscar (business, picking up dames, pimpmobile). But she herds him into his vechicles with amazing professional speed as everybody else suddenly realises they are standing at various strategic points of the road as if they are just about to go to the rubbish bins, take dog for a walk, park car on street. But we all silently know, in spite of our many different languages, that we want a glimpse of...Invisible Amante.

To be continued...

When does one go silver? I don't know, so I continue to fend off the culprits with a box of "frosty chestnut" (because you're worth it or in my case wirth it) but, although the resulting colour is quite pleasing, and very close to my original colour...it looks like someone has hennaed a Jackson Pollock across my forehead. I guess this is why people go to hairdressers.
And just for the sake of oddness...how come nearly everyone who drops by here has connections with a very small area of the west of Scotland? What does it all mean?  Hands up birthdays in April...
Oh...and the above is the first two panels of the strip but I'm off to play the guitar now.

Mark Knopfler Local Hero Wild Theme, Montserrat ´97

Easter...sort of.

They are screaming in the streets of Sevilla. I feel quite sorry for them. They have spent all year making immense statues and decorations for this time of year and there is a deluge of biblical proportions going on all over Spain.
And I have an odd pain in my chest which comes and goes and my doctor assures me is probably connected to my ability to produce panic attacks for no reason whatsoever. Still, it's a bit weird.
Yes, spelling mistake in second panel....one day I'll actually make a comic with no mistakes in one attempt!

Grouper party this way.

Not one thing in here drawn by me. All fractals and Photoshop and Corel Painter Essentials. I could never draw lanterns like these. Are the eggheads over yet...can I move from here?

Another easter bunny I had forgotten about

Easter bunny

Grey, cold, windy and lots of strange newcomers in town. The invisible wife has sunk to new depths. She left Fido locked in her house for over twelve hours yesterday during which he cried almost non-stop and managed to wedge himself between the windowsill, open window but behind the wrought ironwork. He's a big Alsatian. He sat there all day waiting for Madam Ho to return and as the day drew on he wobbled more and more as he tried to stay sitting upright. The doggy people in Spain cannot help an animal if it is in somebody's property.
Everytime I went out, his one yellow eye and one blue eye fixated on me, and he howled. I have put a curse on the invisible wife.

Universal Dance

Not because I can, but because I can't help it. Some days the wacom tablet acts like...well, like the above.

JAZZ SINFÔNICA + Pablo Ziegler 3

Shopping in Hell

So Alice informs me that I have to stop wearing T-shirts and start looking like a grown up. I am finding this a monumentally difficult concept to grasp. At five foot two it is tricky to look grown up. Even Barbara Windsor does not look all grown up.
"Oh these are wonderful," she laughs brandishing a pair of black , embroidered shorts."
"I wouldn't be seen dead in those," I say.
"Not for you...for me!" she says.
And after an hour of her shoving frills, lace and sparkles into my face, while she has grabbed yards of red floaty things I give up and push her out of wherever we are in the Tarragona Mall and into an Italian clothes shop where I find a really nice cinnamon coloured cotton shirt within minutes. But she keeps presenting me with really old lady dresses and she doesn't get that they will only make me look like a jellyfish or a very angry granny. So, to make my point, I reluctantly try on a black,  fine wool, waisted dress with pleated skirt and cap sleeves. It feels odd enough that Alice is in the ladies' dressing room and I'm wondering when the shop assistants are going to twig and whether they will be brave enough to question her rightful position there...anyway...I pull this dress on, turn to the mirror in the cubicle, and see...my dumpy mother...and when did I get wrinkles on my knees???????
"Well?" Alice is demanding from outside. "Let me see."
And, I pull back the curtain...
She draws up her six foot three frame (aided by platform sandals). "Oh dear...it does accentuate your thickness...but your arms are okay...you need a proper haircut."
"I just had one in el Corte Ingles..."
"Yes, well, you're just a very difficult person to dress...."

My Office

As you can see, I have my filing system down to a zen-like minimum and a handy flat stone that doubles as a worktable or picnic table. The air is filled with the aroma of wild thyme and rosemary, the sky alive with teeny, brand new swifts or swallows or house martens or whatever they are. Transport to and from the office is free and I'll see if I can add a photo of the view.

Tell your ego to bog off

Today, I read the blog (as I often do)  of  http://loisstearns.blogspot.com/2011/04/lo-philosophises-sermonizes-and-handily.html
and I thought it a very thought provoking post. Letting go of your ego. Then, by chance, I was browsing Andrew York's music on Youtube and the post below popped up. This piece of music expresses how I interpreted Lo's post. I cannot put into words what she made me feel but the piece of music draws the words I can't find.

Andrew York plays Letting Go

The Goons - I'm Walking Backwards for Christmas

See, if you leave comments they can turn into all sorts of things. This cartoon emerged from a link that http://timbobig.blogspot.com/ left in the comment box.
You can hear the original song in the post above this one.

The town is full of people carrying palm leaves, olive branches and white cardigans. It is Palm Sunday. According to http://jessielilac.blogspot.com/2011/04/wishing-on-full-moon.html
you can make a wish tonight.