Cold a comin

Oh dear, the day has gone all grey and I seem to be getting a cold. I keep sneezing ... on Mr Smith. This is a mighty blow as I am starting work next week. Still no contract but I have agreed to a three day week with a wee bit extra here and there. Reason for possible rain is because I watered. I put the hose upon the strawberries and forgot so they got super waterings and should reward me with a bumper crop in June.

I am working on two jolly paintings. I will have to paint non-stop all day in order to get my two pics for March finished today. It's all performance targets in my work place with a nasty quality controller who pops by occasionally to chivvy me. He's at golf today. Actually, I need to have a stocktake and make an order requisition i.e. get some more paint. This will be my reward for goodly works. So I had better go and make a start.

Filled up with petrol? No, me neither. The queue looked too long so I took the train.

Away day

Oh thank heavens for Designer Susan and her breathtakingly beautiful paper sculptures. I was momentarily transported and able to forget all about house selling, telephone boxes or what to cook for dinner. I had a lovely day pottering around Southampton in the sunshine. Southampton is very shopping centred but the old town is lovely and the City Art Gallery has a wonderful collection of paintings of the sort you might like to own. I was tempted to get on a ship and take a cruise especially as there were nice young men in smart uniforms at the station waiting to escort me to my ocean liner. Hello, Mr Smith, yes, we have your wife here. She might not be home for dinner ... for some time. I then nearly got on a train to Chichester so I could spend the night at my seaside flat but I remembered there are no sheets there as I cleared it all out to let to other people. Oh just think ... no more other people from now on. Oh thank goodness. At last it will be my flat for me with my linen, my loo paper and my fairy liquid.

On the train home I got a message from BT people. They have cut my hours but upped my money. Zipperty Doo dah. Oooooh I will be rich. I wonder how much that cruise costs?

When I got home I got a message to say BT people have made a hash of the rates and can't afford the warehouse. But they're not very expensive. Are they bonkers? They surely knew they had to pay some of the rates. I despair of these people. I am still near to walking off this project. I probably wouldn't really enjoy a cruise anyway.

Life in the slow lane

I thought I would feel a wave of euphoria, or at least gentle relief, having expunged Clamydia Lydia from my life. But I don't. Maybe because we still have to pay her off and I just know Mr Smith will kick off on that one. Oh well, no longer my problem.

I now have to ween myself off wine and chocolate. Actually, I didn't feel awfully well in the night having consumed a nice bottle of white and an entire corner shop. I might have to detox today with something disgusting like green tea and gentle fruit before I start my next addiction to Greggs the Bakers.

I am thinking of going to Southampton to see Designer Susan's exhibition. She makes beautiful paper things and was giving a talk about herself last weekend. I dare say it was marginally more interesting than a talk about myself. I am fat and married to Mr Smith ..... a work in progress.

Clamydia

I had a meeting this morning with Telephone Box people and I still haven't secured a contract. They are beginning to think I am really expensive but, actually, I don't think I am given my ability to multi task. They are trying to cut my days. I am beginning to get cross .... again.

Anyway, I had a terrible day yesterday. Everyone shouted at me all day long and nobody would help me do anything. I wanted to cry. Mr Smith just got all arsy when I asked for his help in sacking the horrible Clamydia. Clamydia is a bully and I have had enough of her bossing me about and being nasty. I can't deal with this. I had to bide my time til the end of the football that looked like it was going into extra time. Mr Smith has now written an e-mail I would not like to receive if I was her. Sometimes it pays to be married to a dalek who is very good at exterminations.


The jacket I went all the way to Regent Street to buy was a useless rubbish jacket .... i.e. it didn't fit! Too fat as usual. Shame because it is lovely - white with little bees buzzing all over it. Maybe I could slim down into it ... After I've finished my jumbo chocolate bar. Ooooh I love Cadbury's Boosts. Heavenly drug of the moment. It makes me forget all those mean nasty people who are horrid to me and I even quite see the point of Mr Smith.

Deadly serious

I am doing well in my resolve to swim front crawl like David Walliams rather than ladylike breast stroke like my aged mother-in-law. I am building it up slowly and I find it rather exhausting as well as giving me a raging appetite. I then eat far more than I have expended so it's really most unproductive.

Off to see Antonia Rolls at St James Piccadilly ce soir where she is exhibiting A Graceful Death which I always call the Grateful Dead by mistake. I love her paintings and the ones of spooky dead people are fabulous. It seems to increase as more people die.

I have managed to start estate agent wars at the seaside. Good. They will all fight to get my flat sold first. I had an email of such rudeness from Clamydia Lydia I might not give her any money at all. I am not contractually obliged to anyway but being a good sort I will probably see her right though Mr Smith doesn't see why. Then I will leave there and never have to see her again.

Agent Annie has sold another two of my paintings. She's such a gem.

Where house?

This morning I went to Buckinghamshire to see the warehouse I am going to manage. It's very big and the loos smell. I have ordered some cleaners. Have you seen something on tv called 2012? I am stuck in a project just like that with meetings where nobody actually does or decides anything except the next meeting. I spent some time pinning the agent to the warehouse wall this morning demanding to know how the hell the doors open. I have ghastly visions of 75 telephone boxes arriving and me not being able to get them through the door. Alternatively I could paint one of them blue, shove all the others inside it and fly off to another dimension. Daleks would be easier to deal with than these people!

Now I should paint pictures for the rest of the day but there is the ironing and space to be stared at. I am feeling rather disorientated. Mr Smith will no doubt whip me into action.

The sea and me and a credit card

I went to Chichester on Friday to the hairdressers and a bit of boring shopping for comestibles, tres dull. But the shops in Chichester are lovely and there are several new ones so with my smart non grey hair I returned on Saturday and bought lots of lovely things such as scarves and shoes and dresses and a coaty thing and a bra from M&S and a lovely big long light cardi from Phase Eight. Mrs Smith recommends lovely new shop where all the clothes look like pyjamas called Sahara. You probably all know it really well but it's new to me. I bought the whole shop. www.saharalondon.com. Then I had my nails done; they are just so shiny

Mr Smith, the dog and I had a lovely seaside visit. It was gloriously sunny and we basked upon the balcony watching the surfers riding the waves and the people buying ice creams by the beach. I can't think why we want to sell the flat. Oh yes, we haven't got any money. I appointed some new estate agents and will wait to hear that they have sold it. Oh, apparently it doesn't work like that. We tidied it up and posed everything just so. I love that, making it look like Hello magazine are popping round for an At Home with the Smiths in their stylishly decorated penthouse overlooking the Solent. Really it's some Ikea furniture and the odd bit of seaside clutter in a rather nasty apartment block looking over a bit of grey Channel.

I finished my knitting but it isn't anything like the pattern. I am a bit disappointed. I might undo it and knit it how I think it should be.

Have you plumbed in your telly for the digital switchover yet? It's awfully complicated and Mr Smith was absolutely no help. I gazed at a blue screen for many an hour then it went black. After the third attempt I gave up and went to the pub and when I came back there was Divina. Apparently you need to be quite patient. Oh.

Chocolaty fingers

Mrs Smith likes the new chocolate fingers with white chocolate under the brown ... yummy. I ate loads of them as I was challenging myself to suck off the milk chocolate to reveal the white but I kept getting down to the biscuit too quickly. Needs practice.

This morning Mr Smith turfed me out of bed and made me go swimming. The pool was really busy with other people whose husbands must have behaved similarly. Then an exercise class started so I joined in. It was rather hard work but at least no horribly buoyant tubes were involved. I quite enjoyed it in a masochistic kind of way. I walked home up the hill and was in serious need of tea and a donut. Mr Smith hadn't bought donuts. Oh dear, I will have to divorce him.

I have now had my last dentist appointment for a while. Phew - dentist holiday. I went to see Mr Smith in his office on the way home and he took me to an amazing new shop in Regent Street that I can't remember the name of but it's full of fabulously nice clothes and housy things and a wonderful living wall. I am going there on Tuesday for serious shopping. I must not eat fattening things over the weekend as I want to be a bit thinner in anticipation of lovely new things. Weekend hasn't started yet and I have yet to perfect my chocolate finger technique whilst Mr Smith is at the library.

Key issues

The Best Boy and I looked in the fridge at lunch time to find it rather bare. Mmmmm what shall we have? We went out. We forgot to take a front door key.. Oh well, never mind, the Apprentice will be home soon. He then rang to say he had locked all his keys in the car and was coming home by train. Oh dear. The neighbours who have our keys were out. Mr Smith was at work busily not answering his phone. In the end I threw the Best Boy over the side door and he broke into the kitchen. He can always become a burglar if the film industry doesn't beckon.

I now have a job. I discussed my parking space, my office and my uniform with my employers. They didn't take me seriously. Oh. We still have to work out dates and my actual job apart from loo cleaning.

Agent Annie has sold a few of my paintings ... to her family, but I don't care from whence cometh the crust. I am really happy as will be my bank account. I have a good feeling about these small paintings. I think I ought to buy some more small canvases. They are so quick and easy to paint and I think I should include some in my show.

Now back to my rather odd picture of a travellers palm with monkeys. "Oh is that what they are" says Mr Smith.

Woops ... Again.

The dog has taken up pooing on tne kitchen floor in the night. He has never done this before unless he has been unwell and then has been terribly embarrassed and we completely understand but recently he's been rather remiss and we are often finding something that looks like a Great Dane passed through our kitchen rather than a small spaniel. I have looked this up on Google, as I look up everything from whether to get up to how to make an origami frog. The result suggests the dog has alzheimers. Well, maybe, but he never forgets walkies time or dinner or twenty ways to get a biscuit. I don't wish to share this information with Mr Smith so I have carefully disposed of the deposit and I have told the dog we won't mention it again as long as he stops this from henceforth.

I have been waiting, a little too eagerly, to find out if my telephone box designs have been approved and possibly selected. I just found out they never got them. Oh woe is me. I hate technology except when it works. Why didn't we just post them like in the old days?

Yesterday's lunch party for M-C was really good and Gay Virginio actually paid his share. Good boy. We had an interesting discussion about the term "Gay and Lesbian". Isn't this simply repeating the same term twice with the addition of an irrelevant gender definition. Mr Smith finds one horrific and the other fascinating. I leave you that to ponder upon.

Domestic bliss

Mr Smith was a right shirty poo this morning. Just because I couldn't perform super mail merge email gymnastics so his emails look like letters. Honestly, doesn't he understand you just email and that's it? Anyway, he shouted at me and was about to call me incompetent when I reminded him that I am not his secretary and if he wants my money, which he does desperately, he had better be nice. Gosh, that did the trick. A cup of tea appeared and he went all grovelly. I think I like him better as himself. Anyway, he will find someone at work to explain how then I will make this chap some cupcakes as a thank you. Mr Smith will refuse to deliver them because carrying them is too inconvenient. Good grief it's a small box of 6 not two dozen.

I had a very odd swim yesterday as there was an aqua aerobics class going on so I joined in. I sort of knew everyone there from the days of small children. Of course all the small children are now small adults and some are even married. I didn't like those people much then and I don't like them any more now. I had difficulty trying to submerge a very buoyant foam tube that kept flying up and hitting people in the face. Nobody else seemed to have problems with theirs. I can't imagine why they don't like me. I think I might give that a miss next week.

Today is M-C's birthday and Virginio has organised a lunch at a local Italian restaurant. As Virginio never ever has any money I wonder who he is cadging off today. M-C already bought him lunch last Friday. Oh no, not me. I only have £20 given to me by Mr Smith aka Robin Hood. That's my allowance for today.

Great British Brownies

Oh lovely boys bought me mothers day gifts of garage flowers and recycled cards. I love them dearly. Actually, the best boy bought me a lovely book of British baking so we had chocolate brownies for tea and they were yummy yummy. I am looking forward to making Chelsea buns and cottage loaves but there again I am trying to lose weight so perhaps not right now.

It's a beautiful Spring morning and once I have greeted both my daffodils that have bothered to flower I shall take my fat self for a fat swim. Oh the temptation to stay in bed with a cup of tea, a newspaper and a smelly dog is very tempting indeed. Mr Smith has produced my swimsuit with a "now cram yourself into that" look on his face. Oh dear those chocolate brownies were very good. I will have to write in lies on the Weightwatchers online weight chart .. like I did last week.

Maternal instinct

Designer Susan sent me a beautiful knitted scarf yesterday. I recognised the yarn as something I had seen in John Lewis but discarded due to hideous price. She is not bothered by such trivia. She is very bad for me.... but a brilliant friend and wonderful knitter.

We have a new neighbour. Our vile Syrian and his screeching wife, obnoxious brats and yapping dog have all departed. We now have a nice, very pregnant, Russian lady. She told me her name but I've forgotten it. I'll call her Valentina. She is expecting twins next month. She has moved into her great big house without a stick of furniture. She doesn't appear to have a man. Assuming she didn't impregnate herself there must be an Ivanovic somewhere. May he come quick with an Ikea van.

It is Mothers Day. This will no doubt pass unnoticed in our household as usual. Actually, the Apprentice did get me a card and the Best Boy will probably find the card he meant to give me last year but forgot. It's somewhere amongst the chaos in his room. Mr Smith just adopts the attitude of I am not his mother. I shall wallow in self pity and wait for a present wondering why I didn't eat them at birth.

Get excited and make things

The craft making show at Olympia was excellent. Three of us and one tagger alonger went along together. We went to the Liberty stand and made patchwork squares for a giant jubilee quilt. Then we split up and bought things we didn't really mean to buy, especially me who vowed to buy nothing on account of having so many unfinished projects on the go. I now have some more. I bought the most beautiful cream yarn you could dream of; silk and merino mix. I also got the pattern for a cabled scarf with bobbles on the end. It is so beautiful, heavy and dense - just yummy. We went for lunch at Pizza Express and were joined by the tagger alonger when we had finished. She is one of those people who can never quite get their act together. I am taking care not to become her.

When I got home I found Mr Smith had been shopping. Oh Lovely Mr Smith. He had bought donuts for tea. I ate two ..... having had pizza for lunch. I will probably explode.

Now I am going to finish a painting ... But there again that new knitting is calling to me.

Top secret

Can you keep a secret? I can't. It's M-C's birthday next week and we are having a surprise birthday lunch at a restaurant. The thing is I am going out with M-C today to a sewing show at Olympia and the sheer torture of not telling her about her surprise party will probably almost kill me. Anyway, if I was her I'd want to know so I could feign suitable surprise whilst dressed in my party clothes.

I have definitely got a job now starting in April and my role is Project Manager. I still get to clean the loos and empty the bins - oh lucky me. However, I will be earning money and I will be in charge of the warehouse. I am really excited. My first task will be lots of shopping - I am rather good at that.

I am cracking on with my new painting, Mr P's garden. Actually, it's Mr P's house and garden. It's coming on a treat despite the wonky windows and wrongly positioned path and Mr Smith thinking it's not very good. I'll show him.

Have you filled up with petrol lately? Shock, horror. It's nearly a hundred quid. Is your journey really necessary? Tea with the Lovely Claudia - yes actually. The supermarket - absolutely not. Mr Smith can do that.

Horror shows

Mrs Smith had a day of dislikes. In the morning I went to the dentist which was as ghastly as ever and in the afternoon Sensible Alison and I went to an awful film, the Woman in Black. I am not sure which was a sorrier tale of woe and discomfort. I certainly still have raging toothache which has now spread into my head and can't even have a little chortle of delight at memories of the film which was just too harrowing for further contemplation. If I were you I'd give that one a miss. Half way through Alison said "I knew we should have gone to the Muppet Movie."

Last night I snuggled up to Fat tv. I adore weight loss progs. It was the divinely skinny Davina introducing the final weigh in. "Before you weighed 82 stone and now you weigh .... 13 stone 2 pounds." You have won an eat-all-you-can holiday. Hooray, cheer, clap. After seeing the first few amazing 4 stone losses I became nonchalant - puh, only 4 stone. Then came on a lady who lost 6 stone which was 40% of her former self. I stopped off at the kitchen for a Kitkat then waddled upstairs feeling inspired.

Today should be a day of painting. I do have toothache which is putting me off a bit. I am meeting the Lovely Claudia for tea and cakes in Richmond later. I will remember the fat people and have one for them too.

Busy bee

I had a day of goodly tasks yesterday some of which were very yucky. I didn't manage any painting or swimming but I did go to my class and the brilliant M-C sorted out my knitted blanket for me. It's ongoing and tricky and very Rowan Yarn with mean patterns that don't give you enough instruction. Cast on and knit until it's done. Oh, I see. Mr Smith is of course a marvellous help. "Do you have to do knitting in here?". Admittedly he is talking about our bed in the middle of the night.

The carpenter came and sorted out our shelves but now I have to paint them. I went to B&Q and bought paint. DIY shops exhaust me. I feel so fatigued after walking around one that I don't have the energy to perform the task. I did make a start but how will I disguise the great big line along the back where the shelf was? Many a layer and some sanding I suppose. Can I be bothered? Well, nobody else is going to do it.

We have a leaky outside kitchen drain and it pongs. It's the bit around the edge that oozes goo into the flower bed so I bought some instant cement and set to. This meant we couldn't use the sink tap or drain all evening. I had to drain the pasta into a bucket and use water from the outside tap. I bound up the kitchen tap with cling film but, being thick, I still tried to use it - it exploded. I now have to see if my brilliant drain mending skills have done the trick or whether we are back to the drawing board. We might have to call a man in. "Cor blimey, who's made this dreadful mess?". Oh that was Mr Smith.

It's all Claudia's fault

I was going to go swimming but the Lovely Claudia appeared with armfuls of daffodils. What a delight. I do have daffodils in my garden and am fiercely proud of both of them; the others are clumps of leaves. Why don't they do flowers? Claudia says it's because we buy sacks of ancient bulbs from cheapy diy stores instead of making careful selections from posh catalogues. Here's what I hate: daffs with scrambled egg middles. A trumpet is mandatory in order to sway nicely to a bit of Wordsworth.

After a hundred years and a hundred postponed appointments at long last the carpenter is coming to fix the shelves in the playroom which means I will no longer fall over a stupid television, Playstation, Xbox, dvd player, radio, wii machine and a snarl of plugs. It will almost be a home cinema - for poor people with no surround sound and a small screen. Mr Smith will no longer have to make a safari through spaghetti wires in order to reach his golf cupboard and all will be well with the world.

I am not going to have time to start my new resolution of front crawl instead of dainty breast stroke today. I have to find a quiet time at the pool as it might be a bit fat and splashy until I become accomplished. With the lovely weather we are having swimming is suddenly rather popular. I am sure I can find a new way to empty the pool of people. I will write a little notice about water contamination or verrucas or something and put it on the door. Actually, Mr Smith might not like to be summoned to the manager's office about his wife's behaviour AGAIN.

The new Mrs Smith

You know how sometimes you get all exercisey and you do lots which in turn makes you want to do more?...well, it works the other way too. If you don't do any exercise and just loll around having a lovely time then you get used to this really quickly and in no time you find yourself reduced to a lump of blubber that only moves in order to heave self off sofa or out of bed in order to have something to eat. I know this. I am an expert.

We are going to Biarritz in May. Biarritz sounds like the sort of place your clothes ought to fit so I could either buy larger ones or reduce me. I haven't got much dosh right now so I think the latter option will have to be considered. Well, actually it's often considered then I have a cupcake whilst I think about it a bit more.

Three things I am going to do to improve me:

1. Swim crawl rather than ladylike breast stroke.
2. Walk that marathon course ... once, not three times like a proper marathon. I worked out to walk the whole thing would take me 13 hours and that means I wouldn't have time to walk the dog or make any cupcakes.
3. Drink less alcohol.

Actually much the most difficult of those is the swimming. I'll start today. You'll see.

Perfect parenting

I am beginning to remember my most ghastly moments of frightful drunkenness at the British Telecom do the other night. Some BT bigwigs and art supporters came over to meet me having seen my designs for my phone box. One said "Your box is great" so I looked down at my er um ... as you might and said "yeah it was great last time I looked.". Whereupon there was a deathly hush. I thought it was really funny - not any more I don't!

I thought I would detox. After all a spring clean for my body is always a good idea. So I went to Holland and Barrett where they sell healthy things all completely alien to me. I bought acai berry capsules and green tea. I took these things and drank these things as prescribed but nothing happened. I didn't feel instantly energetic or completely cleansed. Perhaps my healthy eating of late isn't sufficiently testing the berries and tea. OK. I'll have a nice greasy breakfast with lots of toast and butter; let's see what you make of that Mr Acai Berry. Couldn't find the green tea so drank lots of earl grey with extra caffeine instead. Ah that's better. I feel a bit full now so I think I'll just go for a little lie down whilst it gets to work.

The Best Boy is filming in New Cross today and had a very early start. I admire his dedication as at 6.30 on a Sunday morning he is reading about waterworks disrupting the route and how he needs to change buses three times as there is no train service at that hour of the morning. I vowed I would not help him and told Mr Smith he wasn't to help him either. Why is this 22 year old idiot boy still living in our house? He is too lazy to put a clean duvet cover on his bed despite being asked to a hundred times. It took a week for him to put the sheet on. He is an animal and his room is an insult to any zoo. I am not helping him. He doesn't deserve it ..... I muttered I as I drove him all the way to Vauxhall to catch a bus to SE London.

So now you see why I needed a cooked breakfast and a little rest.... Oh forget that stupid detox, gin is the only answer.

Walking into the unknown

Oh no. I have always thought being fat is a bit of a problem like being ugly or being smelly or being an alcoholic. Actually, I am all those things. However, I always thought my weight's not that bad, I mean look at Dawn French or Pauline Quirk. Please don't! They've gone all skinny. How dare they. The benchmark has been moved. Time for action because actually, I think Dawn French weighs less than me and that is hideously scarey.

I want to walk the marathon. I saw a poster advertising the London marathon walk in May. Oh, blow, I will be in France eating things. Ok, here's what I'll do. I have found the map of the Olympic marathon which looks much more straightforward. It's a circuit through the city and down Victoria Embankment performed three times with an extra bit where you visit the Queen. So for my first effort I would do it once carefully adhering to the map, second time I could manage a bit more a bit faster as by then I would know where I was going and finally I could manage the whole marathon. The problem with walking is it takes a long time. Oh well, I need a bit of serious exercise and I don't run; things are too wobbly.

I thought I'd carefully banished all thoughts of telephone boxes but of course I am now willing the end of March to come so I can know for sure that my designs have not been selected and I can wallow in disappointment. Doing this before the selection has actually taken place is a bit pointless; I may as well get on with some paintings and annoying Mr Smith.

Now what?

Odd day yesterday. I think it was the thing of coming down from a mighty high. I had achieved what I set out to do. I was waiting for enormous praise, adulation for my brilliance but I just got a request for an invoice and a perfectly nice cheery thanks..... like normal people. Do they hate me? Are they paying me to get rid of me?

Anyway, in order to quell my paranoia, I painted two little pink house pictures as requested by Agent Annie. Now her praise and thanks are super effusive, falling overy and gushingly wonderful. She always makes me feel happy. I have to finish off the final one. I have found these brilliant pens: Posca pens that are like paint pens and come in all thicknesses and quite a few colours. These make little details like railings much easier. Tomorrow I'm going to buy loads. So cheaty but just the ticket.

I gave up on the still life and smell of rotting vegetation in the shed. We ate the breadfruit last night along with some very odd plantain chips that are a bit like hardboard. Oh well, it's always good for my family to try new things.

Now what shall I do today? Oh, visit the dentist.

St Anthony and Carina

The warehouse in Kent is warehousey and the telephone boxes will fit in perfectly. The great bit was meeting Mad Carina on the bus who was also going to Kent so we travelled together all the way. She was wonderful, getting me on the right train and dashing back to get my umbrella that I had left on the train at Waterloo. I was so worried the train was going to go off with her on board and she would be back in Putney or shunted off to some siding somewhere and I'd never see my umbrella again ... or her.

No more phone boxes now til April or possibly June depending on whether my designs are selected.

In the meantime Agent Annie has come to Jersey from the Caribbean and has got my little paintings I dispatched a couple of weeks ago. Phew. She has also ordered two more. That's good news. I will get cracking on them today and attempt to finish the painting of her parents' house and garden. I will abandon the truly dreadful still life I was attempting and return the rotting fruit to the kitchen.

Our horrible neighbour is moving out next week. Oh hooray. His wife is leaving him which he claims is because the house is cursed. I think it might have something to do with his vile personality.

Oh what a night

That was fun. We went to a brilliant party to launch BTArtbox and lots of telephone boxes came too. It was very good and I am now ecstatically happy to be involved in this project. Mr Smith was angelic and we are meeting the team in Kent at a proposed warehouse this afternoon. I feel very efficient.

I have to say these telephone boxes are VERY big. I mean enormous. Mmmmmm a bit daunting actually. I thought the fibreglass cows were large but not compared to these things. I have suggested we try and get a ladder company to sponsor us and lend some free ladders so we can reach the tops of the telephone boxes. I think of everything, me!

I have just received an email from a gallery in New York inviting me to show my paintings. Just a trifle busy right now, sorry.

And now to get over my hangover, make a chicken stew, walk the dog (who ate my sponge yesterday) and do a spot of painting.

Mrs Smith recommends

A fabulous Spanish short film that I saw years ago called La Cabina. You can see it on YouTube. It'll scare the pants off you. Don't worry about it being in Spanish as there isn't really any dialogue.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isIgZ81lfnM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Feeling regal

Ok. So I haven't done any painting. Actually, I have done some but I haven't actually started the exhibition works. I only have to do about 17 so if I manage two a month that'll be fine. Of course we do have holidays and Christmas and times when I will be painting telephone boxes; that is assuming someone likes my designs and sponsors them. Gosh, that could be super embarrassing if I don't get selected having volunteered myself as head artist.

The possibility of finding warehouse space for the teleohone boxes is real. My superhero, Mr Smith, has done his stuff and negotiations are taking place. I really hope these people appreciate me - who's queen? Actually, who's oily rag? My job is really the person who cleans the pigeon poo off the telephone boxes.

Now to my silly sewing class and swimming and then a bit of poncing about with my hair as I want to look lovely for tonight's telephone box reception; I'm meeting Esther Rantzen. Last time I met her I became so tongue tied I just stood in front of her like a lemon amazed at how tiny she is. This time I want to ask her whether Anton du Beke is a really good shag. Better not drink too much. I'm taking Mr Smith with me to keep me under control.

Looking outside the box

What can I tell you about today? I did the ironing.  Well, it was quite a feat actually because if you leave it for as long as I have it becomes a mountain only slightly lower than Kilamanjaro.

I hate the still life I started.  I don't paint real pictures.  I must remember that. 

One of the hoovers I thought I had mended is blowing instead of sucking - very messy. It has taken us a week to notice. 

I found looking for warehouse space for the telephone boxes just too boring so I passed it on to Mr Smith.  On a good note they invited me to a party tomorrow night.  Ooooh how exciting.  At long last I will see what a plastic phone box actually looks like ... much like a real one but with no door.  I have submitted three designs so far.  Hope they like them.

It's a lovely sunny crisp afternoon so I think I will pull on the Uggs and walk my lazy dog and not do any more work (more?).

Domestic God

Went to Brixton market which was so out of this world. We do live in a very cosmopolitan city and this pocket of London is a glorious mixture of African, Arab, Caribbean, Indian and Far Eastern produce. I absolutely loved it. I bought masses of exotic fruit and lugged it all home on the bus as the tube was unwell. Anyway, I started a painting but it's awfully tricky and the fruit is beginning to smell. There's nothing quite like the pong of rotting mangoes to transport you back to the Caribbean. I think I might just make a big tropical fruit salad then look up how to cook breadfruit, plantains and something I don't know the name of. I'll imagine the painting.

Mr Smith kindly did the hoovering. I now have to kindly mend the hoover. Actually, two hoovers!

Tutti frutti

The dentist was vile and nasty as predicted and I have to go again next week and pay. He should pay me then I could afford all the presents I buy myself as rewards for my horrible dentistry.

I am a bit fragile today after going to Sensible Alison and Presuming Ed's for an amazingly delicious dinner. Oh what gorgeous wine. Oh my head.

And now it's time to plan some paintings. If there is one thing I learnt this week from David Hockney it is about planning. I have downloaded Brushes, the drawing program he uses on the iPad, and I am really getting the hang of it.

I feel something fruity coming on. I shall go to Brixton market and buy exotic fruit and paint it.

Eggs is eggs

The Lovely Claudia and I went egg hunting which involved lots of cups of tea and a few lovely shops and galleries around Bond Street and a thoroughly brill afternoon.

The David Hockney exhib at the RA is amazingly fabulous. Although there were a lot of people it was quite tolerable as the paintings are so huge you are not vying for elbow room. Mrs Smith's favourite? um er probably the films and the iPad drawings and the paintings of trees and the photos and the absolutely everything. I bought the book which is a mighty tome of some weight that I then had to drag round London for the whole rest of the day.

The cloak made of spider silk at the V&A is rather dull but amazing in technique ditto the Queen of whom there is an exhib of photos by Cecil Beaton. I absolutely love being a "friend" as you just wave your little card and it's all free. (I mean friend of the V&A not the Queen.)
The other marvellous exhib I chanced upon was David Chihuly's amazing glass structures in fabulous colours that just took my breath away - wow! Absolutely incredible.

Mr Smith met me at the Intercontinental Hotel where we delivered the painting. The client is very pleased with it so we are all happy. We drank champagne and admired the view over Hyde Park.

I am absolutely exhausted but have to drag myself back up to London today to go to the vile nasty dreadful dentist.

Mrs Smith's exciting day

The Exotic Marigold Hotel is a lovely film. Mrs Smith likes. Honestly, if it hadn't been for Super Sensible Alison suggesting the flicks for our entertainment, I would have had the most boring day of my life for ages. I didn't get the light bulbs because B&Q didn't have them, I didn't get a new light for the playroom and I didn't get the right work trousers for the Apprentice although I did have a stand up fight with the Best Boy (younger son) about 40" waist being too big for spindly older son. "It's not my fault if they don't mark the sizes clearly". No, you have to actually read the large label on the front indicating the waist size, you dork! Shopping with your mother is considered a trial by kids; shopping with my boys is hard labour.

I then went to see my father who doesn't look gloriously well after his heart op. I think it will take him a while to recover. I dare say I wouldn't be dancing the light fandango after having my rib cage sawn through and wrenched open like a suitcase either.

Now today is Mrs Smith's exciting day. I am going on an art adventure, several art adventures, starting at the V&A followed by the RA then Selfridges and The Big Egg Hunt with the Lovely Claudia, then meeting Mr Smith and nice client at posh hotel by which time I will be ready to expire and I certainly won't be feeling like cooking dinner. "Oh that's OK, I've looked in the freezer and we can have one of the casseroles you made earlier." And there was me thinking he might take me out!