While I was watching paint dry, as I often am, I started a new picture. This one will have trees instead of houses, mainly because I felt like a break from the fiddly business of painting in windows.
My studio: Don’t look too closely at the floor; I haven’t swept it since about August.
In one corner is my memory wall. Every now and then I’m forced to thin it out a bit but, most of the things on it at the moment, have been there for the past year or so. There’s even a bow made for me by my husband out of a quality street wrapper blue tacked up there. A couple of things I never take down: the “Mum’s Studio” and the “Mummy is a artist” signs that my daughter made for me six years ago.
Above those is a doodle saying “Mum” that my son drew while chatting to me as I painted last year. Another of his great works of art that I won’t take down is his interpretation of what I look like.