Our New- to- You Dog

It's very odd but in the last year I've developed a bit of a thing about dogs......
During the usual scavenging expeditions to flea markets, car boot sales and charity shops, childrens books, old cigarette cards, old black and white photo's of dogs have joined my more usual purchases of fabrics, jugs, buttons and books. I've done paintings of 1920's ladies with Airedale Terriers and Greyhounds; embroidered tea cosies with pictures of Labradors, Fox Terriers and Jack Russells and have been taking photos of lovable, scatty dogs all over the place.
But I am not a dog person.
Or rather, I wasn't until last week.

But now, here we are, seven days later, the new and besotted owners of our pre-loved Cocker Spaniel. He's three and a half and very gorgeous. Here he is on the beach at Teignmouth tonight, contemplating his rubber ball. He doesn't have a huge repertoire of expressions, but he's an absolute master of the "thoughtful", "patiently wise" and "soulful" looks.......
Here's another shot of Teignmouth, which was looking particularly beautiful tonight: we took him for a walk along the promenade. You can see the Victorian pier in the background.
And here's our daughter Eliza with the new light of her life.... As I write this on the computer, our new dog is sitting quietly under the desk, tickling my toes with his lovely silky fur. Happiness is a dog.....

In the next post I'll tell you the story of how we got him.
So sorry I haven't written anything these past few weeks: chaos has reigned in our household, our home looks like someone has just burgled it, and despite complaining to my husband that we never do anything, we have had so many social occasions recently that I'm on the point of collapse ( two evenings a week is really pushing it for me, staid homebird that I am.) But within the next few days I'll check in with you again and I'll put the kettle on for us.... Come and visit soon.

Have a lovely weekend!
Love,

Sarah x

Mothers and Daughters

Last Saturday I was having a tranquil time, teaching watercolours to a group of beginners, with the sun shining in on the jug of tulips on the table, and some 1940's big band music on in the background... Couldn't have got much better, really. The postman arrived, and I opened some letters as I waited for everyone to finish an exercise in mixing colours.

And then the day got even better. This photo (above) came out of an envelope. It shows one of my students, Jen, with her daughter Sarah, and Sarah's tiny daughter, too. Here's what Jen's husband John said in his letter,
"My wife and daughter enjoyed the "Painting Chickens and Ducks Workshops" last Wednesday so much that that they decided to practise the following day.
Of course Sarah's daughter wanted to join in as well, as you can see. But she has to learn that you have to paint on paper and not cover your hands in paint!"

Although the little toddler is using a brush, her hands are covered in paint right up to the cuffs of her overall. I just love this photo. It makes me laugh, but I find it really moving, too. As a child I loved nothing better than painting with my dad, or sewing and making things on the living room table with mum. And some of my best times with my own eleven year old daughter are when our heads are bent over the table together, drawing, cutting and sticking. ....

Well, on another subject entirely, I did promise ages ago, to show you the photo of the twin orphan calves at my friend Elizabeth's farm. Here they are, below. Aren't they beautiful? And they are doing a great job of looking after them down at the farm. I'm hoping to get over to Elizabeth again in the next few weeks and I'll take another photo of the twins as an update, to show you.

" I never thought I'd see the day..."
Nope, I never did think I'd see the day when I would bake an apple pie ( and make the pastry by hand!!) like this.
Although I love the idea of baking, and have every kind of tin, biscuit cutter, piping bag and dish under the sun, the idea somehow rarely becomes a reality.

The last time I made a chocolate cake it turned out like two oversized chocolate biscuits on top of each other, and I never remember to defrost the frozenm ready made pastry in time for an apple pie, so it always ends up as an apple crumble instead. But at the prospect of Nigel's venerable uncle and aunty coming down to stay from Tonbridge Wells, and in an uncharacteristic fit of bonhomie, I offered to cook Sunday lunch for all Nigel's family so they could all meet up with the long lost uncle again. I decided I'd better do something a bit more impressive than the usual crumble.
Luckily I saw a deep dish apple pie made on a TV programme and was inspired. Ok, it took a long time (most good things do,) and the apple inside wasn't quite as cooked it could have been, but hey! It looks pretty convincing, don't you think? I had to take a photo of it to prove that I had made something like this , if only once in my life...

Today is a nice calm day: the birds are singing, the sky is gloriously blue and sunny, my admin is finished for the day (phew,) I'm sitting here writing my blog and am just about to go out and plant some Sweet Peas and Ox Eye Daisies.

Tomorrow, however, the forecast is rain and cold, and I'll be driving to the county of Somerset to take part in a "Women Do Business" Day workshop on "Exporting Abroad."
Well, it sounded a good idea at the time....
I'll take a clipboard with me. It might make me look a bit more official.

And Nickie in America: if you're reading this, I might have to prevail upon you to buy one of my postcards next week or something, so I can say that the workshop worked, and that I've already started exporting my work .....

Call again soon! The kettle will be on....
( But it's only fair to tell you that last Saturday night I met up with my friend Alice again (the one who prompted my little diatribe about elections and voting a few weeks ago) and we were putting the world to rights once more. Some Rum and Cokes were involved.)
.
So you might be in for another lecture on The Nature of Modern Life, on your next visit.
And you can't say you haven't been warned....

Admin made my hair go frizzy...

Yup, I could be Marlene's twin right now......
Well, it's more my brain thats gone frizzy rather than my hair. Too many hours staring at my computer screen wrestling with charts, calendars, highlighters, diaries and scraps of paper in an attempt to finalise the dates for teaching my workshops for the rest of this year.

I suppose I must be commitment-phobic at heart: it nearly kills me promising to be available on a date and going through with it. How can this be, when I enjoy the teaching so much? When I did a few years of teaching at a local school I had no problem at all in the commitment, but now that I have the choice of which days to work I get all shifty and evasive.......... But what a luxury problem: I have nothing to complain about!

So after setting the dates; doing a mass mailing to my email list; sending the dates to Matt my lovely webdesigner; and then deciding to overhaul virtually my whole website
( well what a great idea THAT was: there's no such thing as a little website project....) I was feeling very frazzled last night. I thought I'd better still make the effort and go to my Monday night SalsaDX class ( a provincial girl still needs her Latin rythm, even if it's in Bovey Tracey Church Hall) so grabbed my dancing shoes, and steamed off in the car to get there just in the nick of time.
To arrive to closed doors and not a soul around.
Odd.
Usually the doors are flung open; some of the girls are having a quick cigarette in the carpark and the sound of Havana is blasting out. I hung around for a while then checked my watch. I had turned up an hour too soon.

Went back home, spent another frenzied forty minutes scanning pics in , writing stuff and emailing it to Matt, and then returned to salsa. Late this time.... But it was all worth it. There's nothing like wriggling those hips to Latin music played loud to perk you up.
And tonight, here I am on the sofa, after ten hours at the computer, a human vegetable with a very bad back. So no more computer for tonight. The lovely Luther is on BBC1 right now and I think it's time I watched him. I can tell he wants me to.

Well that'll be all for tonight then, folks : it's Luther, a cup of tea and a hot water bottle for my back. Night, night!
Come and visit soon for morning coffee.....

paintings of chickens

"buff orpington chickens at sampsons farm" by sarah bell


Good morning from Ruby, Olive and Doris...........

Yes, here are my beautiful chicken girls, first thing the yesterday morning, deciding whether to venture out or have a lie in for a bit longer. We've moved them into new luxury accommodation, that is, Eliza's old Wendy House.

I had to brief them before breakfast with some modelling tips, as it was the third day of teaching my watercolour workshops, and yesterday was "Painting Chickens and Ducks". After a few pointers on deportment, holding a pose for as long as possible and keeping hydrated with lots of water, I left them to it.

Below is a pic of Jamie the miniature Pinscher, who is now an expert on watercolours. He came all the way from the Netherlands with his mistress, Susan, to take part, and slept and sat quietly in his basket in the studio for the whole of the three day course. Well done, Jamie...

Here's one of my lovely students showing off some of her one minute paintings of the chickens in the paddock.

And below, one of the models, striding back to the field after coming to do a quality control inspection some of the drawings

The students had a visit from our newest babies, two of seven tiny bantam chicks currently having a very snuggly time with their mum in the maternity unit (I'll post a family photo of them later this week.) In the meantime, here's a shot of them sitting on a drawing board, but we didn't keep them out long enough to draw as they get cold very quickly.

We had a fantastic day, bobbing in and out of the studio, visiting the chickens , sketching and painting....

The next two paintings are some examples of paintings by my clever students: all eight of them did some fantastic work, and we all had a really enjoyable time.

And here we all are for a group photo at the end of the day. I don't know how everyone managed to smile, as we were all exhausted by such hard work by 5 o'clock: I think it was only those vats of coffee we consumed that kept us going. ( And my boundless enthusiasm , of course!) It was a really lovely day: lots of lovely ladies, lots of painting, lots of chickens, lots of lunch, lots of tea and coffee, and best of all, lots and lots of laughter........
Well done, everybody!

And another exciting thing happened during the three day workshop. I received an email from my friend Jilly Balantyne. She is Artist in Residence at Villa le Reve, in the South of France. Villa le Reve is the former home and studio of one of my artist heros; Matisse.
I spent some time painting there last year.
I even stayed in his bedroom.
So I could almost say," I slept with Matisse".........
Hmmm.
Anyway, here's a little sketch I made whilst I was there:

I watched a wonderful documentary about Matisse last Sunday night, and had a lovely surprise when they spent a long time at the house, and also interviewed Jilly. And now Jilly has sent me an email to ask me to come to the house in France to teach painting alongside her in September.

OH JOY........ thankyou, thankyou, thankyou. Yes.
Of course, I mean I'll have to consult my diary.............. (not!)

If you'd like to watch the programme about Matisse, and I can't recommend it enough, here's the web address:
www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00sfsnd

I'm off now to have a dig around to see if I can find my sketchbook from Villa le Reve, and a few photos that I can show you next time you pop round.

She hadn't yet decided....

Well I'm sorry.
I'll only mention it this once. The election of course.

I have Been and Gone and Done it. Voted.

After weeks of agonising about who to vote for this time I still only made the choice when the pen was actually in my hand in the voting booth. Despite feeling disillusioned with all the major political parties over the last few years I've still been deliberating endlessly on where my vote is going to go.

Having a small business which often balances the tightrope between profit and loss, and living in the often politically overlooked countryside, being concerned about food security and a lack of support for farmers, lots of people would think it natural to vote Conservative.

Having a mum who survives frugally on her state pension and values her free bus pass as a wonderful gift ( particularly last year when she has having to use it to take three busses a day to visit her partner in the Hospice,) it would seem fair to vote for the Labour Party who made it possible.

And anyone who thinks electoral reform is important; and that people who struggle by earning less than £10,000 a year shouldn't have to pay income tax, and that the banks deserve a good hammering for messing up big time and then not lending to good businesses in the aftermath (oh dear: I feel a rant coming on.....) would have to vote Liberal Democrat.

I can't help thinking that my vote doesn't matter in the least anyway, and why on earth am I taking it so seriously? My friend Alice remarked yesterday that her two nieces at university weren't going to bother to vote, and that her own daughter of 15 was appalled at their decision. I can't help thinking that the 15 year old schoolgirl is a lot wiser than her older student cousins.

It also makes me wonder what the point of a University education is if it results in such apathy? As Alice mildly pointed out, some people in Africa walk for days to get their polling station because they see their vote as being so important. Afghani's and Iraqi's face bombs in order to vote. So many people bemoan the state of Britain and say things are so awful, but surely things can't be so bad for many if they can't be bothered to vote. And it must be the sign of a stable nation free of serious strife where people assume that everything'll be ok whether they vote or not.

My daughter Eliza has been interested in the election , as have the children of my friends , which is interesting. When I was eleven it all just passed me by, really. There was little political conversation in our household. It mostly amounted to my dad swearing under his breath whenever Margaret Thatcher appeared on the news. (But hardly surprising in view of the fact that he had been made redundant three times in not many more years as the factories in our Northern industrial town closed down , one by one.) His hatred for the Tories didn't prevent him from joining the town's Conservative Club to drink their cheaper beer, though, as most working men seemed to in our area!

Eliza couldn't believe it when we said that women had died in the early years of the 20th C so that we could have the vote. And it wasn't too much earlier that ordinary working men with no money behind them didn't have the power to vote either. So it seems frivolous not to exercise our right to vote however excruciating , or easy, the choice may be, or however obvious the result may seem to be.

And as a footnote to all this, I do wish that they would put up some big signs in the polling stations saying that it's a cross you must put in your chosen box, and not a tick. I had to triple check with the ladies behind the table at the station this morning. Because a tick is precisely what I entered on my polling card as a politically fired-up eighteen year old using my right to vote for the first time in the 1980's. Rendering it vote null and void. And I've been mortified about it ever since.

Well that's my journal entry to mark the election, and I shan't speak of it again...

Next time, lots of jolly, lightweight stuff about chicks, lambs and the dawn chorus.

Over and out !