We fly the flag for Ukraine

JK Rowling - True Woman

I have put the finishing touches to a portrait I have done of J.K. Rowling, taken from a press photo of her. I am titling it True Woman, much to the annoyance of the woke brigade. Also, I am progressing with a portrait requested by Ann's sister, Jane. It is a memorial portrait of Michelle, her daughter who died so tragically a few years ago. Naturally, I want this to be a worthwhile memory of a beautiful girl, so I am taking especial care with it, and bring it in for Ann to judge at regular intervals. She kindly points out where change is needed: a cleaner curve to the cheek, a narrower and shorter neck, a less ruddy lip. It is taking a lot of time, but will I hope be worth the great effort, and a portrait I hope Jane will be pleased to display.

Two estate agents visited yesterday to assess our house. The main problem is the huge cost of running our home, with council tax, heating oil, water rates and electricity even before we start spending on ourselves. They each flattered the decor, liked the size of the rooms, the location and the cross-country views. They both asked what we were looking for when we move, so we described our ideal property: smaller though still with room for a study and studio, old and quirky, with all-round gardens, quiet and isolated, rural with trees around, off road parking, and almost anywhere that we could afford. I think we suddenly realised that - apart from smaller and old and quirky - we were almost describing our own house. Certainly, looking at the market, there is nothing available that looks even half suitable, and even smaller properties in need of upgrading seem to be going for almost the same price as ours even before we add in estate agents' fees, removal costs and stamp duty. We are definitely going to have to rethink this whole retirement business.

Sewing the flag

As mentioned in a previous blog, our Chinese-made Ukrainian flag came without any means of attaching it, so I have sewed a cord into it, and today we were able to fly it in support of that devastated country. A brisk breeze ensured it was proudly waving above the saloon. 

Today I had a professional haircut. Not usually much to write about, but it is two years since I have been, relying instead on Ann's good attempts and me hacking it with scissors before the bathroom mirror. At least Ann once worked as a teenager in a hair salon, so everyone thinks she must know what she's doing, although as she keeps reminding me, "I was only a Saturday girl taking the appointments." It's amazing how much one can learn just by being round people who know what they're doing. Kelly, the hairdresser, has a reputation for clumsiness, once spilling a bowl of water over Ann, and often dropping her things. Everyone is still wearing masks in the hairdressers, and at one time I thought she was going to cut through one of the elastics, sending my mask pinging across the salon, but she managed to swerve and miss it. She does a good job, though, and I look much better than when I went in.

Flying the flag