Bob Ross sets a rare pace

It is another hot day, so I walked the dogs early to avoid the coming heat. Now free to go out, I drove to Clare for a change in scenery hoping it would be quiet, but there were more people at 8:30 in the morning than I ever used to see on a week-day, all with similar thoughts to myself. There were many dog walkers, but also as many runners as I usually only see on an organised run. Even at that time, they seemed to be running in a lackadasical way as though they didn't really mean it, not being in a monitored race. Perhaps they felt out of training, following all these weeks of lockdown. One older woman, dressed the part in tight, black lycra shorts and with a pace tracker strapped to her arm, seemed to be attempting a record at the fastest hobble rather than the slowest run. Unhealthy though I am, I could have walked faster.

Knowing so little about painting, or its myriad kindred techniques, we have started to watch The Joy of Painting by Bob Ross. He was born the same year as me, but died 25 years ago, yet is attracting a new audience attracted by his laid-back style and quirky comments as much as by his instructional videos. Bob presented many series on painting from 1983 to 1994, and is being reshown now on BBC. Each programme follows the same format: thirty minutes in which he starts from a blank canvas and produces a brilliant landscape, painting wet on wet (I'm showing off here, using a technical term I've just learnt). The only problem is, he makes it look so easy it is deceptive. He is backed by years of experience, so when he quickly mixes several paints to produce a joyful, glowing, vibrant colour that shouts from the canvas, he knows exactly how much of each tint he can casually throw together, adding to his white base. I can do the white base, which is a start. But when I add colours, it more often ends up a muddy mess. When he dabs paint on in rapid jabs, you feel you can see each individual leaf and every dappled shade; all I seem to end up with is a smeared uniform mess. Taking up painting late in life, although I too may have a lifetime to perfect my technique, in my case a lifetime may not be quite long enough.

However, there are positives to this painting business. It's great to be learning something new; hopefully it will keep this old brain active. So far, my portraits have lacked any background to keep them simple. But painting's a great way to take the mind off any other troubles: when I am in our new studio, carefully preparing a new drawing and trying to get a background that looks half decent, I become so engrossed I seem to forget anything else. It's worth the humiliation of watching Bob Ross perform. Like the old jogger, I have have the right equipment but I'm hobbling slowly behind him.

An unwanted link

There has been much recent talk about the possibility of Covid-19 infecting young infants to produce a rare disease. The evidence is slowly accumulating, and is certainly supported by some circumstantial evidence. Kawasaki disease mainly affects children under 5 years of age. It is a rare disease, and results in a fever and swollen lymph glands, especially in the neck. It is a form of vasculitis with blood vessels becoming inflamed throughout the body. The cause is unknown, but may be due to an infection triggering an autoimmune response.

Little is still known about CV-19, but recent studies at the Royal Brompton Hospital suggest that it too is linked to a vascular condition, with the formation of microclots in the lungs and other organs. The most recent treatment recommendations are to give a blood-thinning drug. It is therefore all too plausible that CV-19 may cause a rare but devastating illness in infants. For some reason yet unknown, this disease is uniting young and old in the blanket of unexpected death.

Expanding boundaries

The lockdown has been eased and we are allowed to drive out. We broke our enforced retreat by visiting Thetford Forest, with a flask of coffee and a packet of biscuits. It was a warm, clear day and the roads and woods were crowded, but we found a less crowded spot and could walk the dogs in isolation.

Getting back, we had a message from our friends Robin and Yvonne, whom we haven't seen for many weeks. They had read of our recent interest in art, so wanted to bring round an art set they had in their attic. It had belonged to Robin's mother, Grannie Jan, who died a few years ago aged over a hundred. She was a good artist, and this set comprises her table-top easel and an old wooden box filled with brushes and oil paints. I don't know how old they are, but they are still fluid and were clearly top quality. There were also a number of art books on learning to paint, but I think it will be a long time before I am ready for oils.

 Adding to the conspiracy theories about Corona virus is a variation on the theme of the careless, filthy Chinese, spreading it from their wet meat market. The next phase was to acuse the Chinese of accidently losing it from their laboratory, where they were performing research on it. However, this virus is so virulant and pervasive that it is acting more like a bio-weapon.

The theory therefore is that it wasn't just released from the Wuhan laboratory accidently, but was designed and deliberately created there as a bio-weapon. The Chinese, so the theory goes, were hoping to develop a vaccine for their own people so they could release the virus safely in the rest of the world. The fact that it did escape was presumably more cock up than design, but the overall effect has been the same. Certainly, if they were designing it, they would select strains that survive best in the USA, while being less virulent among Asian peoples. In those terms, they have certainly succeeded.  The way the disease has progressed in the USA compared to China, with total destruction of the US economy and loss of jobs, means that China may be propelled to the top super-power in terms of GDP and production. They couldn't have planned it better.

Our art studio is commissioned

Tories

send the builders back to work
because you do not give a damn
for the safety of our English salt–
the normal working man

Annie Elliott

There is much debate at present about children returning to schools. Having no children of school age, we are in the position of disinterested observers. Certainly Mary-Anne does not want her two returning yet, and it seems many parents think similarly. Many parents are happy to spend so much time with their children, especially those forced to work from home for the first time; they are building new bonds they never knew they could. One of the agency people I speak with regularly had a new baby four months ago, and has welcomed home working with open arms. Usually, he would be commuting to work from early morning to late evening. Now he has spent solid, precious time with his baby, time that can never be repeated for they grow so quickly. He is in no hurry to return.

This art business takes a lot of thought

For the children, some are learning new skills they would never learn at school which is confined to formal lessons, many with a left-wing social bias, such as neglecting English history. If we don't teach our own history, certainly no one else in the world will except to carp and condemn us. Our nation has a history we may be proud of, and teachers should sing its virtues from the rafters. Parents can teach subjects the children actually enjoy, including practical and life skills, rather than rote learning for exams. Ann and I having succeeded so well with Edwin, and enjoyed the experience, we're all for it.

Today, I tried the new art studio Ann has designed. It is quiet and isolated, with the huge advantage that we don't have to clear the table each day so we can eat. I can make a mess to my heart's content, and it doesn't even matter if paint gets on the table of the old chair, or even into the carpet. It is really homely; I've moved an old radio in to listen to Radio Three music while I work.

My first commission

Today, I started my first "commission": Lucy asked me to paint our granddaughter. It is only my fourth picture, but I can see some improvement at last. However, I acknowledge that I have way to go to master the more subtle techniques of colour, shading and blending. As for painting from life - I think that will always be beyond me. One of the guests on Grayson Perry's show specialised in painting animals. She always uses photos because animals won't stay still long enough for her. I reckon what is good enough for a professional is certainly good enough for me - I can't imagine humans (especially children) staying still long enough either.

Clearing out the old

The new art studio awaits

 We cleared out the garage today, under Ann's direction. This was something I had deemed impossible, for rubbish was heaped on rubbish in mad profusion as we had thrown everything in "that might come in handy" one day, or that was "just awaiting a trip to the tip." But under Ann's perceptive eye, the day rolled by with things being moved out, or to another junk area, or commandeered for use in the new room.

Finally, we have ended up with our own art studio, with back-to-back desks and chairs, and all the art things moved in so we don't have to keep clearing them away when we want to eat a meal. The only thing missing now is the art - it still has to be Christened with our first paintings.

Ann is ready to paint

Now the tumble drier has broken. All the lights are flashing and the clothes are still dripping wet. It's a Hotpoint, and barely a year old. I've cleaned the filters and tried turning it off and on and but it remains terminally ill. Looking up possible causes on line, the pundits suggest this is indeed terminal - it sounds as though the main software board may be at fault, so we need a new machine. In these days of lockdown, we can't go to a shop to choose one, so we're having to order one blind online. They can't deliver it till next week, so we will have to spare the washing. The machine was full of washing when it broke, so at the moment we have towels draped round the banisters, and underwear hanging off every radiator, and I've had to turn the heating up to get them dry. I can only say to anyone reading this and thinking of buying a tumble drier, don't buy Hotpoint!

Unexpected visitors

 It is amazing that we have now received yet another gift. Confined to the house by lockdown, Edwin and Andre had done some shopping for us in Cambridge and brought it round yesterday. In addition to the shopping, they had also treated us to a superb boxed art set, with many different mediums such as acrylic, watercolour, Indian ink and charcoal. It also contained an easel, so we have no excuse now not to at least attempt some artistic creations.

We sat outside in a cold wind, but Edwin insisted on seeing his guinea pig to see how he'd grown. Andre, more used to warm S. American climates, was shivering so brought out coats for them both and gloves for himself. He told us how they were more fortunate than friends of his who'd landed a job in Cambridge just before the lockdown. They rented a small unfurnished flat and were just moving in when the lockdown struck, leaving all their luggage and furniture locked in a warehouse on the continent, unable to be delivered or collected. They have ended up sleeping on a mattress on the floor, unable to buy anything until the lockdown ceases. The boys were not allowed in the house, so we brought the cage outside. Edwin was delighted to greet his friend, not having seen him for over two months.

Andre and Edwin visit their guinea pig

Today we had planned to try to clear the garage to set up an art studio, because at the moment we do our painting on the dining room table and have to clear it each evening. But like mice in the cosmic schema, our plans were thwarted, as so often seems to happen now. For some days, we have suffered a weird electrical fault whereby the main trip switch keeps triggering. Taking all the fuses out and replacing them one by one did not narrow down the fault, because each time it seemed to be a different fuse that triggered it. It would eventually reset, but trip again in a few hours and had become a great nuisance, so we had to call a professional electrician in.

Jamie came promptly at 8:00 a.m. this morning. He worked steadily without a break until midday, working round the house to disconnect various wires and appliances, but was no more able to pin down the fault than I was, so had to call in an even more experienced friend of his. The two of them spent a further couple of hours going round everything, finally deciding it was some obscure fault in the bubble system for the bath. They have disconnected that circuit, but will have to order a new circuit breaker, and will come back one day to finish the job. In the meantime, they left hoping it would not go off again, but asking us to phone if necessary, so I'm not sure how confident they are in what they've done.

Mystery weed in Hundon

In the garden, Sam has bought us a couple of shrub trees and he also came round this morning to plant them. In the corner, we discovered a new, strange weed, which neither of us could identify. I worried it might be the Giant Japanese Hogweed we've heard of recently, but it looks a bit different. I can't find it online, but if anyone reading this knows, please send me a message via the comments box or email me.

Unexpected treats

Wonderful Yorkshire cheeses

Suddenly we are getting some wonderful presents. Yesterday, the fruit from Lucy; today, a selection of Wensleydale Creamery cheeses, butter and crackers from Yorkshire, sent by Matthew and Rosie! We love cheese, and will enjoy these. I especially like a slice of Wensleydale eaten with rich Christmas cake in the Yorkshire tradition, with a glass of mature port. Delicious.

Also out of the blue came a copy of a letter from brother Richard. Ann had asked him if he had any information about my father in the war. This was a letter he wrote to mum when he was courting, in 1941, and everything in it was new to me. Seven pages long, it is extraordinarily well written, full of good humour while showing great strength of character. He was a sapper in the Royal Engineers, which I had not known, billeted at that time in Grimsby. He was looking forward to meeting mum again in Southsea when she was to be bridesmaid to someone I knew as Aunt Jenny (In those days, all my mother's friends were 'Aunt' or 'Uncle').  He even mentions indirectly the recent budget, saying:

"This budget sure is a robbery. I feel sorry for your dad whose beer and tobacco is his only enjoyment. It looks to me that they have taxed the working people far greater in percentage than the rich, & that we don't only have to fight this war for them, but pay for it for them. take us lads up here for instance, most of us are broke & have to keep in nearly every evening... it is going to take all my time saving up for fares etc, can't afford to go round to the local pub so much as I used to."

He also adds that they must write longer letters to make the most from the newly increased postal charge of 2½d [old pence - equivalent to 1p in new money]. I was intrigued so looked up details of this wartime budget. It had been presented by the Chancellor, Sir John Simon, in April of that year, and sure enough makes reference to increasing the duty on cigarettes and alcohol. Definitely "plus ca change...", for the papers today also refer to increasing the duty on everything to pay for the war on Corona virus.