Thoughts after a very nice doo!

Kev's big brother Keith died this month, we attended his funeral last friday, far too young. It was what you could call a nice due, the church was packed. I'm not really sad for me, there were plenty of people in that church who knew him much better than I , I am sad for him as he will miss his three grandchildren growing up, he did'nt even get the chance to eat jelly and cake at their first birthday parties.

He had his little oddities, but as the vicar listed his achievements ,you realised how much you had forgotten or never bother to acknowledge as he toiled away at his lot, but in the final listing you could see that here was a man who tried to make his mark, his priorities always seemed a little skewd to me but as I get older I realise that judgement is a pointless pass time, what do I know anyway?

Kev wanted to see it through to the end and view his body, to be supportive I got over my abdabs and went with him, it was a strange experience, his dad had said that he looked 'peaceful' but to me he just was'nt there.

Having seen 'him' made up and covered in a blue lacy shroud, we emerged into the street engaged in a really close and valuable discussion on death but mainly about organ donation; if your objection to donation is based around not wanting your body to be messed around with, we came to the conclusion that after having two lots of surgery, an autopsy , having your fluids replaced with embalming fluid and wearing your first and only face full of make up, any process to salvage your good bits would be a disgnified and constructive experience. I don't want to repeat the viewing experience, looking at the shell only seems to serve as un -necessary further proof that he is no longer with us, but it does propel me to the Organ Donor registration site to sign up.

The next shock was seeing his obituary in the Derbyshre Times. I read all the others around him and spared a thought for the lady who was childless, and the lady who died at forty years old with a two year old daughter.

Looking at his widow, his tiny frail octogenarian parents and his three sons was agony. She looks so tired and deserves a rest. As always with these things ,the worst bit was the crematorium and the dreaded 'curtains', the final let go, no going back from here onwards.

The curtains seemed to prompt my traumatised daughter to make a beeline for her Dad and gave him the tightest hug ever, I think maybe she suddenly realised that loosing her Dad was a real possibility just as her three cousins had just lost theirs.

Keith would have enjoyed his funeral, you could visualise him mingling and laughing, putting the world straight with that tone of mild outrage in his voice. Kev remebered that he would have to attend future funerals on his own from now on, they always used to go together.

It must be said that he was sometimes a bit odd, a bit difficult, and definatley very stubborn, but I think he always did the best as he saw it. As Derrick's poem said ' When he was young he was a bit of a lad, but he never once did anything that was nasty or bad.

Because it feels right..........

• it felt good today to sort out the numbers at work, I did'nt kn0w how to do it and had to experiment That's a challenge.




• it feels good to make a model, then draw from it, then make another model from the drawing. That progression.




• it doesn't feel right to apply for any old work, bored just thinking about it. Thats depressing.




• it feels right to cut back on expenses, burn wood, turn off the heating, grow veg,drive an old car, anything rather than spending too much time doing things that close you down. That's prudent.


• it feels right to have holes in your sofa, but still have time to think. Thats making a choice.


• it feels wrong not to be part of a team,to share things , to chat. That's lonely.


• it feels right to work when you are ready, walk the dogs, clean the house when you are not. That's freedom.


• it feels wrong not to have enough money to cover the basics, that's poverty.


• it feels wrong to panic and run back to safety, that's bottle.


• it feels wrong to have so many ideas that no-one seems interested in, it feels even more wrong to give up, that's tenacity.


• it feels right not to tie yourself to the 9-5 and to one specific place, that's adaptable.


• it feels right to make plans and try to execute them, that's targeting.


• it feels right not to get obsessive about the house, that's self preservation.


• soon be Valentines Day, it feels right to totally ignore the fact. That's lazy.

Craggy faces are good, but when it's your own?

I love to see photos of well used craggy faces, I remember a fantastic one of Michael Parkinson

, WH Auden is another classic, craggy is undoubtably better to draw and paint than smooth perfect, you want to get to know craggy people , they will tell a good story. But when that face is your own what then?

A little confession, I spend my lunchtimes watching rubbish on the telly, every day, Neighbours and Home and Away; in order to make this habit a bit more constructive, I draw whilst watching, I do my once a day observation practice. The last couple of day I have got out the mirror and drawn me, my face. Now you have to bare in mind that when you draw, you concentrate, and it takes quite a while so its impossible to grin at yourself for this length of time, so invariably self portraits are a bit solom and intense, I am not the miserable git that I appear.

I know this is a reasonable likeness because I have double checked all the lines, their relationships and relative weight, it was drawn over two lunchtimes so this would account for the slight 2 faces stuck together kind of look, all I want to say is that this is not what I see when I think about me in my head, that internal she is 25 years old , quite goodlooking and sort of smilingly, intelegently, interesting.

I'm not even saying that getting old is rubbish, cos its not, old me is far more confident and self assured that young me, she's also more tollerant, open minded determined and quitely ambitious.

There is just a difference that's all, so when Helen Mirren says she is scared to look in the mirror, maybe this is what she means. I intend just to enjoy the difference, and consider the little jolt that these eye/mind contrasts give me as just a little acceptance challenge, a challenge to enrich the soul.

Stalking , being a coward or trying to make friends

This morning I feel guilty, and a little bit dirty, I have been poking around on facebook, thinking up all those names that I would like to be in contact with, Nik Gadley, Sara Wogg,( the names have been changed for their privacy) , I have a little look through their friends to see what they are up to by the general theme of things. Nik is, as I expected, arty and cosmopolitan, I sort of feel not interesting enough to be part of that list, Sara is just not there, Christine seems to leave a trace but then it leads to nowhere, very mysterious.



It made me think that very occassionally someone stalks me via the web and that does'nt seem to be a bad feeling, there are very few people that I purposely close my mind to, hopefully they know who they are.



I know that others indulged in the same guilty secret of web stalking, I know this because I contacted someone from the past recently and it became clear as we talked that he had had a look before and decided, as I do myself, that this person would not want to talk to me. On this occassion I made the first move but wouldnt it be great if I could get over myself, and just do it.



Generally my own rule would be, if you feel bad about it then don't do it, I think what I actually feel bad about is being chicken, so I will return to that page and send a friend request, if I recieve a stony silence, then so be it.

morning rituals, the bright side and horoscopes.

The feeling I have to fight is that generally 2009 could be construed as a pretty crap year, wallowing will do me no good whatsoever, it did feel like I had shot an albatros or flattened a few black cats a lot of the time, I am not even going to mention the bad stuff, there you go ........all gone.





I have made a list of the good things from 2009 on my website , already things start to look better. http://www.suegouldart.com/ there are a couple more possibilities that I dare not mention in case I frighten them away. ' the world does not really change, just the way we view it changes'.





I shall continue to follow my morning ritual, 1. read Jonathan Cainer, 2. read my emails then 3. google news, nothing can start before this is done.





I know, as people tell me this frequently , I am normally an intellegent woman, I should'nt be wasting my time with Leo the lion every morning, but actually he just gives out sound advise which would help anybody, mainly about being positive, brave etc etc. and my vanity is always stroked by the possibility of being queen of the jungle every day.

As we are talking happy things this is my 16week old puppy, meggie.