December

Today on the radio they said it was the first day of winter. I think it started earlier; the trips to the studio have had me clutching my coat and scarf tightly to avoid the fierce wind. This morning you could see the frost but the sun was shining. I know from living in Finland not to trust the sunny bright days - they are often the coldest!
I'm reviewing the week whilst waiting for the Wales v Australia rugby match to start on TV.
I went to a party made up almost exclusively of painters I hadn't seen for a while. It was invigorating that all the talk was of painting. An oasis in the desert!
I continued work on a large canvas - one day so long that I arrived home later than planned and had to call into the Off-Licence to pick up some sustenance. The wine I like is from Beziers (Betty Blue country). It's the favourite of the wine store owner and his supplies are low. With apparently no possibility of getting more it's debatable as to who will finish the stocks first him or me.
A four hour lunch with a friend,another painter, came in the middle of the week. We discussed our inability to leave a canvas in what we call an embarrassing state which often leads to long hours spent in the studio until it had been made less awful.
All this talk of painting circles me during the week and I am left wondering what it's all about. It's hard, it's sometimes depressing - not being able to get it right; I question why I put myself through it and I have no answers except that I don't feel I have a choice. There is that one magical moment -that excitement, that frisson when I finish a painting and I feel it's right. But it doesn't last. I've already moved on to the next canvas.
The crowds in the Millennium Stadium are singing Delilah - time to go.