annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Weekending
Look at these totals:
LA and I have been playing scrabble on Facebook since forever, three games at a time, and we are so evenly matched it's unbelievable. If I had any patience I'd have waited till the next game was played, as we might get perfectly level if I lose, but we may not and I don't have much patience. I'm also not prepared to just let LA win for the sake of it.
Last night I actually went out, after dark, to a party, fer fuck's sake, like a proper person. I didn't want to, obviously, being a grade A old miz, but it was Son-in-law's birthday party, (artist SIL, not fucker SIL) and my presence was expected so off I went. I got very pissed, very quickly, which was pleasant - maybe I should take up drinking a bit more. I had a glass of Prosecco and was pissed before I'd finished it, having not tasted alcohol since god was a boy, and having not eaten since a meagre bowl of porridge for breakfast that morning. After that I sipped steadily at gin and bramble cocktails, which YD made by the gallon. As I said, very pleasant. It does take the edge off shite, alcohol, doesn't it?
We played The Game, the only party game we know, which is very silly and makes us all laugh and I shall share the instructions here, in case you are having a party. It's for a small group - we were fifteen last night, but a few more or less wouldn't hurt. You need to prepare in advance by acquiring some crap prizes and a few not so crap ones. Prizes last night ranged from Tesco Value Pot Noodles (probably cost 20p, and not worth even that), via chocolate, a tin of Spam, weird little ceramic things from charity shops, sprouts, booze, and a wind-up flying plastic hamster. These all need to be wrapped up - YD lives in a tennis club so she'd collected the tubes that tennis balls come in, to disguise things. So, you have a lot of wrapped prizes - enough for two per person - and two packs of cards. The prizes are in a pile in the middle, one pack of cards is dealt out. The other pack is shuffled and the host turns cards and calls them out, one at a time. When a card in your hand is called you take a prize but don't open it. After a while the prizes run out, so when your card is called you can take any prize from anyone. Your pile of prizes will rise and fall and maybe rise again... When all the cards are called the unwrapping begins. There has to have been some double bluffing in the preparation - most but not all the prizes were wrapped in newspaper, most but not all of the nicely wrapped ones were rubbish. There was a tube of Brussels sprouts, a tin of quite nasty ravioli packed in a square box. YD somehow had us all believing that the latter was desirable, despite its newspaper wrapping. Much laughter and breaking of ice.
That SIL , the birthday boy, has now been invited to submit some pieces of art to go in an exhibition in Tate Modern, ffs. Invited as in they've seen his website, know what he does, and would he like to select three, any three, and they'll be in. For next February. Proud and amazed, we are. Conceptual art - it's a fucking mystery to me. I keep having it explained to me but it never sticks. I shall keep on asking till it does though, as I am related to an acclaimed practitioner.
Meanwhile, I have come to the end of what I can do on my painting of the garden at Charleston:
and started another one, inspired by this pic I took of the sea and the sky, which were more contrasting in colour than that - the sky more grey, the sea more murky greenish:
I got as far as this:
which is clearly nothing like it, but I didn't have the pic with me and I was very agitated, so just piling more and more paint on. It's only on a bit of sugar paper. I might start again. I feel like doing it again and again and again, like forever, just painting sea and sky till at least one part of it looks like something.
It was like this where I walked the other day:
That's completely unfiltered. Here it is snazzed up a bit:
I am grateful for: calming down somewhat; kindness for ED at the care home, and silliness, making her laugh; being invited to SIL's party, being part of their lives, not an awkward guest which a mother-in-law could be; lots and lots of rain; bed now.
Be safe and warm, y'all. Love xx
12:54 a.m. - 21.11.16
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