I put months of work into the murals at the Leopard Hotel in Burslem, Stoke-on-Trent. I did around twelve, but then it closed down a few years ago and eventually burnt down. The shell of the building is still there.
I used to paint in the evenings after work and most of the time on my own, and the Arnold Bennett suite that I painted in was right at the back of the hotel. The room was sometimes quite spooky! You heard odd creaks and noises, but I never felt scared although the Leopard Hotel appeared in Britain’s Most Haunted. It was semi derelict upstairs and there had been plans to restore it. Painting there was a great experience.
Someone put a status on Facebook that the UK should close it’s borders to illegal migrants. I think this is racist and replied:
Who says illegal? Our government. But these people are humans, poor, frightened, children, women, men. We have closed legal entry options, we made them illegal. British people are a mixture of flemish, anglo saxon, celts, French, Italian, west Indian, African, Chinese, Japanese, Turkish, Iranian, Indian, Pakistani, Vietnamese and many other citizens of different cultures and countries. We accepted the transported children who were evacuated from nazi germany. Now we are acting like Hitler Germany. Divide and conquer. Blame incomers for all our ills. Meanwhile Brexit is a fiasco, we have become meaner and more selfish as our freedoms have been curtailed. Sorry but pulling up the drawbridge and sticking our fingers in our ears and singing nah nah na nah na does not help!
People in these situations should be called Refugees, that’s why they are seeking asylum
If you had to give up one word that you use regularly, what would it be?
I wish I didn’t need to use the word poverty, in this country and about the rest of the world.
Poverty can be relative, a millionaire can feel poor in relation to a billionaire. But that’s not real. Or someone who lives in a first world nation can struggle to survive on a very low income, having to chose between heating and eating.
But I think true poverty is in countries wracked by famine, war, sickness or all three. When starvation is rife, and children are stunted by lack of food and clean water.
And yet there are eighty men in the world that own the same amount of money as half the world’s population. That’s 80 : 4,000,000,000. Each one has an average amount of money equal to 50,000,000 individuals.
If only our world was not so unequal. I’m not talking about complete equality, people would fight to the death over that, but perhaps a bit more generous support for the poor and more taxes for the rich. Perhaps charitable foundations to spread food and medicine, to reduce wars, to care for one another. I know that trickle down economics does not work. The trickle is stemmed by the slightly less wealthy. But somehow we must change things, stop poverty, be fair, and tackle the climate change to which is having the most detrimental effect on the poorest in society.
So instead of poverty my new word would be fairness.
Tell us about the last thing you got excited about.
Jupiter tryptic
A couple of weeks ago I was excited that one of my paintings would be entered into an astronomy competition. A magazine wanted to see people’s artwork so I sent in this image. Then I got a message asking me to send in again with a jpeg (it was) as an attachment (my phone sends the image embeded in the email).
I tried again, it did the same trick. I started to walk upstairs to send the image on my PC instead. Snap! That was when my ligament snapped.
Of course I emailed to apologise and explain. I also asked if they had anyone technically able to get the file as I only have my mobile to use as I’m stuck downstairs! I’ve had no response, no reply. I feel dismissed and fed up. Excitement, what excitement?
A drawing from a while ago. It was called molecules. I was trying to find an image that describes my tangled brain. I think I’m OK, then I don’t know. I’m trying to do things, but I’m tied up inside a cotton sack, trying to find the way out.
Am I being dramatic? Perhaps, I have lots of thoughts about what I want to do, but the procrastination gets me all the time. The older I get, the less enthusiasm I have. Sorry, its just one of those nights. I’m watching a sad film and it’s getting to me. I sometimes feel time is running out. Grief is a tight knot. Like a molecule, twisting and turning. Time for some rest perhaps…… I’ll be OK….
This is how I feel. Trying to balance the world on my nose. It wobbles, but keeps spinning. It precesses and stays just about stable, but demands on me pull it off kilter. Can I do this, will I do that? Can I help with.. I don’t like letting people down so I do my best. Perhaps I should be more selfish? But that’s not what I’m like.
I feel like dropping the spinning wheel sometimes, just let it slide away, tip up then roll off into the distance. Trying to manage the behaviour of someone who self harms isn’t good (I won’t say who). That and personal pain from my medical conditions makes me grumpy. I just want peace. A couple of days to myself. It didn’t help that our neighbours behind us are selling their house and are threatening to cut branches off our trees? We said we would sort things out so hubby, who is in his seventies, was climbing up and down ladders cutting foliage back. All I could do was hold the ladder. That and some other new neighbours have decided to park their car in the alleyway so it’s hard to access the back of our garden. No consideration for us. I might contact the council. So many things to deal with, and now it looks like one of our cats had got an abscess on his face, he’s just come in and his face is swollen. Oh dear!
The world keeps spinning and I’m still here, one year older. I feel, I don’t know? Like I need to change, to try and be positive. I have escaped from last week’s or years thoughts. Maybe I can gain some strength now I’m a year older and wiser? I have fractured thoughts…
Grief holds you tight, you interpret things in its light. Your expectations change. Fear and worry hold your hand. A loss of a sibling? Never to speak again…. Memories sneak up on you. You peek round a corner and they pounce on you. Birthdays, bad days, no joy. But now? Can I look forward not back? I must try…
Mallaband-Brown 