Thursday, 25 October 2012

The Female of the Species.

Can be found in her natural habitat, bustling in the back office dealing deftly with various queries, multi tasking, having a quick lunch at a make-shift table, (Out of view of the punters naturally but still within earshot.) cashing up, sending envelopes flying through the franking machine and any one of a hundred other duties relating to ticket sales.

Her male counterparts do not bustle.
They lurk.
In corners behind office doors on wheelie chairs from which they peep suspiciously at the females. Or squat over desks, fingers frolicking on mobile key pads instead of computers, churning out texts not tickets.

Naughty.
And dangerous.
The Matriarchs will have something to say about that.

Every now and then banter breaks down the barriers releasing pent up tension which trickles through the pecking order until humour and balance is restored.

For now.

Box office boys believe themselves invincible but their time will come.

The female of the species is wise. Patience and stealth her weapon of choice.

An enticing smile lures one of their breed to the shredder to 'unblock' mangled mush. Leaning in for closer inspection his tie dangles precariously close to terrifying metal teeth.

He realises too late the gravity of his position.

Sunday, 14 October 2012

Phrase for Today.




Perhaps it is birth we should mourn and death
 we should celebrate,
such is the trauma of life
in between.

Wednesday, 10 October 2012

Breaking Out of the Box.

Here we are again then and this time a bit more up-beat than some of my previous posts.
Thank goodness for that! I hear you cry and quite right too.

I've been spending my time away from the blog creatively, by rediscovering my inner artist. The result? Two pencil drawings are now happily biding their time at Trowell Garden Centre Cafe Gallery before change over day next week when I'll skip along to collect them. (Unless some lucky cafe customer gets there first that is.) There's a couple of other pieces on the go one of which I have hopes for as a reproductive for bookmarks, greeting cards etc. Only time will tell of course but me being me, who always did run before she could walk, has already charged ahead and ordered business cards to slap on the back of future priceless treasures. Here's a little preview.

I'll try and post some of my pictures here from time to time. The hope is that the blog will compliment the art work and vice versa. Hey! You've got to be in it to win it and this girl's not been playing for some time now so there's a lot of catching up to do. And I am having fun. Doors I never thought possible have opened just from the spark of one tiny idea. I've sat and had lunch in the cafe at Trowell more times than I care to remember, admired the art-work on the wall, even bought a few peices over the years, sometimes pondering how lovely it must be to have work on display. One birthday, a few pencils and a sketch book later - Bob's your uncle! Suddenly, I've found that spark again for something, anything, to reignite the fire and produce a peice of work.

We went to visit my pictures on Sunday as I was fairly confident they would still be there - which they were. They didn't look out of place on the wall of fame, sitting comfortably somewhere in the middle of abilities on display. A bit like this blog really. I remember sending out my first post on here almost in a sweat to be so exsposed to the waiting millions who would surely pounce and devour every word. Yes, I soon got in touch with reality pretty swiftly after that and it's the same with this new venture.

When I stood waiting for the man to arrive who organises the local artists, a kindly lady pointed him out to me as I had no idea what he looked like having only spoken on the phone until then. I was surprised by how nervous I felt and she must have noticed bcause she asked was this my first time?

'Yes, how did you guess?'
'I felt nervous my first time too.' she replied.'It's because you're daring to put yourself out there.'
'Have you sold much?' I enquired with genuine interest.
She smiled and shook her head. 'No dear. I bring them along and three weeks later I come back and collect them. But it brings me a lot of pleasure to do them so it doesn't matter if they don't sell, I just keep painting.'

I hope she sells one at least, she would be so thrilled. I hope I do too of course but for now am just happy to be creating again. I quite like the idea of a couple of old gurners chomping on their fruit scones or toasted tea cakes and nodding approval at what they see. Or, smacking their gums with discontent before declaring in an overly loud voice - ''Ow much are they asking for that bloody rubbish!"