Tom. I really don’t get it, here’s me being stuffed full of female hormones that gives me hot flushes, and now Tottie tells me she’s been on hormone replacement therapy to combat the hot flushes of menopause. And like most women she always refers to it as going through the menopause, well there’s certainly no going through anything for me, I’m stuck with it for what remains of my life. There really was no point in thinking I could keep my trip down under a secret from Tottie. What makes this Island life so special is that everyone knows everyone. And they also know what you’ve done, are doing or about to do. As soon as she heard I would be going to Australia there was talk of a gathering for dinner to send me off. She has become my most regular visitor throughout the summer, to the point that I can now tell simply by the scrunching of the gravel along the back of the house that it’s her. She has this sort of provocative mincing walk as if she’s never out of high heels and I’m wondering if that’s why they call her Tottie, as she totters along. I can expect a little triple knock and a coo-coo at the studio door, not dissimilar to one of those Black Forrest Cuckoo clocks hitting the hour.
There have been others who have ventured as far as the studio door, and I usually sit tight, continue stitching and listen to the voices as they discuss the £5 entry fee. Thankfully very few decide to risk it. Today was a good example, and the first time I’d bothered with the sign for over a week. Two lots called by, and neither made it inside the door. To be honest if I saw a sign asking for an entry fee I’m not sure I’d bother either, but it has meant that I’ve achieved a lot over the past few months. The running total of visitors now stands at 14, but it has been good recently seeing customers coming back annually as well as one couple from Cornwall who hadn’t been here for nine years, well before the studio was even built. For those who decide that to pay £5 is too steeper a price to view my artwork, even if it is refundable with any purchase, they leave the poorer having no idea what I do. For those who pay up and leave empty handed they have at least had an experience and leave the richer for it, but for those who make a purchase and reclaim their entry fee, I hope they will never regret it. I sometimes wonder how I’ve got by over the past thirty five years as an artist, but somehow I’ve managed with a combination of a frugal lifestyle and luck. There is rarely a day goes by that I don’t create something and the production has been immense. I know some artists who struggle to keep up with demand. Thankfully any demand for my work has remained very much within my bounds of creative production, which has allowed me to keep a considerable amount to adorn the walls of my own house.
Tottie. At last a few days of summer just to remind us what
we should have had, but even then it didn’t last. I could hear Tom somewhere in
the undergrowth sawing down a New Zealand holly bush, cussing a swearing. Tom
doesn’t do politically correct, which is hardly surprising as I think the last
TV comedy he saw must have been “Till death us do part”, and his language
really is quite colourful at times even when stitching and he’s stabbed himself
with a needle or the yarn has managed to knot itself. I coughed loudly but it
did nothing to arrest the train of expletives as clouds of dead seed head fluff
rose from the trembling bushes. He eventually came out dragging a large bunch
of severed branches and gave his customary greeting, “Oh it’s you, I thought I
heard a car”. I feel sure one day he’s going to follow that up with a blunt
“What do you want?”
He does however always seem pleased to take a break from any
strenuous work, ripping his support corset off, saying let’s have a cuppa. This
time I got a look in his workshop, and I have to say I’ve never seen such
chaos.
It seemed impossible that my beautiful Hebridean chair was created in such a messy space and how he ever manages to produce anything is a miracle, but the new frames he’d made for the harbour needle works are extremely effective with a clever bit of simulated cross grain veneering. He made it sound terribly easy with a red oxide undercoat and a black top coat that he’d simply scratched and smudges with his fingers.
He seems to have
several pieces of stitching on the go, but then he explained that most of those
will be completed while in Australia. I don’t think he was going to say a word
about OZ, but I’d already hear the rumour. He showed me the tiny bag he’s
taking with him. Just cabin luggage, nothing else and that will probably be
stuffed with needle work bits. I suppose you don’t need much in the way of
clothing and with his hot flushes even less. He gets a bit touchy about those
and when I said I was getting hormone replace therapy he said “you want to be
careful you don’t end up like Mrs Thatcher and loose the plot.”
