Our history

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Potbank, Stoke-on-Trent. I think I drew this at the Gladstone Pottery museum last year? This was part of a ‘throw down’ held by Stoke Urban Sketchers after an afternoon of drawing in rain and shine. We were in a covered area so we could put the drawings down on the ground.

Urban sketchers usually draw outside, so we need to wrap up warm when we go out in the winter, and shelter when it’s raining or windy.

Next year I want to go out with them more often. You get to see places you might not go to otherwise.

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Concentrating

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Concentrating on her mobile phone, thumbing her life away. While the world passes her by… Those women could be pocketing her goods. Would she even know? Being aware of what’s around you is so difficult when you are scrolling through Facebook or looking at Instagram, I know I do it too.

It’s when people start ignoring family and friends (I do that too). Sometimes I say ‘put the phone down’ to myself, but it doesn’t always happen.

TV programmes I want to see, radio I want to hear. Pass me by nowadays. I’m composing in my head, or commenting, or supporting causes. How did life get like this? At least I don’t use my phone when I’m driving… Just too much concentrating….

Christmas cards…

That time of year again, close to the last posting day for cards, and I’ve lost my address book!

Cue frantic call to my sister, texted her too. I might think I know the addresses but I can’t remember them fully. The postcodes have foxed me. I also can’t remember the name of the husband of one of my sisters, or my aunts surname. That’s scary!

I shall go and delve in a cupboard. Wish me luck.

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Industrial archeology

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Photo of Middleport pottery. The walls are stained with pottery clay. These buildings are now artisan studios. Make do and mend. Reusing old buildings rather than knocking them down. But it costs money to do that. Historical buildings are getting demolished, history is being destroyed. Old buildings that could be refurbished are sometimes left to rot. There is a place in Dudley, in the West Midlands, called the black Country museum. They have demolished old buildings, then rebuilt them on the site. Maybe my city should do the same. X

Nature

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Walking through the snow she came across some peculiar shaped trees, each one in flower with cherry blossom. In mid winter?! Was that a face? How could this be, what spirit of nature could have created this?

The trees seemed to breathe mist into the cold, crisp air. The frost turning it to tiny ice crystals. Sound reverberated from the mist. A whisper but so loud it shook her body.

“I AM SPRING”….

Life is here, waiting in the ground, waiting for water.. Now you are here this will be your place. You will not leave, you will nurture us with your body.

She realised she could not move, she could feel her feet lengthening, pushing into the soil, her arms were rising in supplication. Twisting and growing longer. Her eyes became knots in the wood, her body a trunk. No she would never leave here….. And she silently screamed as she transformed.

Green view

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Cold, wet and windy, but still a bit green where the ivy is growing up trees in the garden. Really it needs cutting back. I don’t want it strangling them. There are bird feeders out there, but there seem to be less birds than normal. Perhaps they have enough food, we haven’t seen evidence of them being predated by cats thankfully. I want to get out there and cut back the buddliea bushes. They need pruning.

The pond is OK, it’s hidden below the cherry tree. It has only frozen a couple of times and only thinly this autumn / winter. We hope to have tadpoles in the spring.

Calling this finished

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Just did a few more adjustments. Painting on the texture of canvas is difficult when you try and brush paint on it. I half feel like I ought to paint a thick layer first so I could paint on a rough surface. But it’s not bad. I could see where I need to make changes, it’s sometimes difficult to force the paint into the nooks and crannies of the canvas. Phew.

Purring cats

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Purring puss

He loves his new basket

Curled up warm and snug!

But jealousy arrives with his sister

Who loves it too.

Squabbles ensue, much chasing,

up and down stairs,

behind the curtains…

Scooting backwards and forwards,

In and out the basket,

one after the other.

Till finally,

they both ignore it,

staying in seperate places.

Eyeing up the basket,

at an impasse….

Neither willing to trespass.

Wish I’d bought two.