My View

After a day toiling away at 'meta-work' - I thought I'd treat you to a Miss T's eye view of No 29.

Here's my view when I'm lying in bed. The crystal on the windowsill is the dressing table set Gertie had as a teenager.


This is my view when I'm washing up - I love the way the light shines through the washing up liquid.

And this is my view as I hurry to the door to let you in.

If I look to the left from my usual seat on the sofa I see this.

Although I often see THIS! (photo by Adam)

This is the view to the right - and yes, we have moved the furniture round!

If we lay the table for supper it looks something like this.

Soon reverting to this...

So that leaves the bath....

...and me of course.

And some days I have a rather unusual view. Don't worry, just a precuationary measure.

Note to self, playing Slade at high volume is a cure for most ills!

Glorious Gertie

"That is the true season of love, when we believe that we alone can love, that no one could ever have loved so before us, and that no one will love in the same way after us." Goethe

Gertie, my grandmother is seriously ill. I'm sharing a few pictures of her with you as a sort of meditation.

This one was taken in August 1997 on her 89th birthday.


Here is one of her helping with the harvest.

I've no idea when this was taken. It could have been at any point in the last 60 years! Gertie by her beloved river, soaking up the sun.

Moore is More

Up in Yorkshire for the weekend - so lots of art creation going on!

Despite it not being the best of days, I took myself off to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park in West Bretton.

There are some indoor galleries, as well as a cafe with a great view...

...over the park (don't touch the scones though - they are of the duck sinking variety).

I love the metal path up to the entrance....

....that displays the names of donors. Although I'm not sure about the symbolism of treading on them!

Now that's a promise I couldn't ignore!

As well as the open park, there's a formal garden.

I know they're pernicious, but they are beautiful. Maybe one day I'll see them in all their glory on the mountains in India.

The garden was full of Gormleys.

Masses of them.

I liked this one best. However, I missed the shot of the day - a woman languidly caressing its arm, much to the discomfort of her husband!

So, back out to the park.

Where there is a lovely tree seat.

But I've brought you here to meet a friend of mine.

I first met her, or rather one of her sisters, in a museum in Brussels. I had just been turned inside out by Bacon's 'Pope with Owls' - she was like a drink of cool water.

I love the feet - which are just like my sister-in-law's (and nothing like mine!).

I love the ripples of her skirt.

But most of all, I just love her HERE - looking out over the park. An essay in tranquillity. I sat by her side for a long time, just drinking in stillness.

More Portrait Thoughts

Following on from my glasses musings, I had a chat with Lorna. Amongst other things she asked me what I wanted her to do about the fact that my eyes don't focus together. Be true to life? Or paint them in as the same?

I know that this is true of my eyes, of course, but I hadn't thought about it for a long time.

So I decided to photograph my eye movement. The moves are extreme - but it's very obvious with UP.

No so obvious with DOWN.

Blindingly obvious with RIGHT.

And frankly demented with LEFT.

Seeing myself like this has made me feel rather strange. For the portrait, I'm with Oliver Cromwell - but right now I feel as I did when I was a young teenager. That I'm a strange looking creature that everyone must be laughing at.

That Toe Debate Again

This evening the Boy and I had the toe debate again, viz. that the fact that my 2nd toe is longer than my big toe means that I am deformed. As usual the debate descended into name calling - I likened his big toe to a fish finger for instance.

The cold, clear voice of reason (Wikipedia) unfortunately AGREES with Adam! In French my toes are called pied de Néanderthal. I won't go into the debate on whether Wikipedia is an authoritative source, but I head for my bed tonight a broken woman.

Ah well - at least the Statue of Liberty has the same toes as me. And not a hint of the fish finger about them.

Glasses or No Glasses?

My friend Lorna is going to be starting to work on my portrait again soon. It's a nude - which poses me with a number of questions. The pose we used before was far too passive, so we need to think about that. The question that I've been pondering this evening, is whether I wear my glasses or not.

On the one hand, it would look more natural and be more intimate without them. On the other, they are so much part of me.

They are the first thing I put on in the morning and the last thing I take off at night. I've worn them since I was 10 years old, when I lost my right eye in an accident.

Yes - I do hide behind them.

Without them ,my false eye, and the scars on my right cheek ,from a car accident, are more visible. I am truely naked.

And I realised this evening, taking these photographs - that I NEVER see myself without glasses. The woman is a stranger.

This leads to the question of who this portrait is for. A. commissioned it, but Lorna says that she's painting it for me. I want Lorna to paint me as she sees me, not to please, or be a nice, pretty painting.

So I guess the glasses question is down to Lorna. It would be interesting to know how other glasses wearers feel.

The Sea, The Sea

One way and another the Boy and I have been through the mill of late. So we decided to go and have a nice day out together. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen the sea, so we headed to Lymington. Partly because it's a nice spot, party because it means you drive through the New Forest (and I could pony spot), and partly so A. could see if he had any memory of returning there from the Isle of Wight when he was knee high to a pork pie.

Lymington is a nice yachtie sort of place. We had lunch here, which was nice... but I was in the mood for some seafood, a bit of mayo and a hunk of bread, and it was impossible to find. As A. pointed out, if we'd been in France you wouldn't have been able to move for it... grrr.

Now this poor chap was in the middle of painting a picture of the pub....

...when some bugger parked a white lorry in front of it, and started unloading some fish (very good looking plaice).

Here is an old seadog.

A couple of chaps who'll soon be breaking the rules!

Now, I know what you're thinking - she had a few drinks at lunchtime. In fact, a combination of spray and sunshine meant I couldn't see through the viewfinder!

A convenient groyne (not GROIN Lorna) meant that I could get a shot of The Needles.

I was really pleased to catch the rods in this V shape. We had a chat with another angler who was after bass and bream but had caught "BUGGER ALL".

The salt flats reminded me of Romney Marsh, where I spent a lot of time as a kid.

Hurst Spit separates the salt flats from the Solent. The perspective was stunning.

The Boy wanted to get his feet wet... but this wasn't what he had in mind!

A rogue wave caught him when he was trying to find out how cold it was (very cold).

Yes - that is a Telecity t-shirt I'm wearing. I always say that techies (or wozatechies like me) don't need CVs - we just need to send in photos of the washing line!

Got a bit arty for a moment....

One for Mrs. Pink....

Now funny you should mention otters...

A. had seen a sign for an animal sanctuary on the map and decided to head there. Suddenly, a huge sign hove into view - Otter and Owl Sanctuary! My two big Os - predicatably I started squealing. "Oh dear" said the Boy "if this place is shut I'm going to have to commit suicide!" Luckily it wasn't - but I was too busy cooing to take many pictures.

I took this one....

And this one...but for the rest you'll need to go to A's blog (they are very cute).

Anyway - the buggers kept moving - unlike my trademark flowers 8-).

A good day methinks (and not a drop of the hard stuff passed my lips!).