Week 2 already. The time has gone remarkably quickly. Today I am intending to prepare my latest painting for the last stage, work which is largely cerebral, ideas get chewed around in a feverish spurt of coffee propelled thinking, spew out of the point of a pencil and at that point either die or survive dependent on how well sketches coagulate on the page. This can go on for days, weeks or longer but in these times of crisis it matters not one iota. It matters little anyway. I have never worked for “ambition or bread, or the strut and trade of charms” to quote Dylan Thomas but it is interesting to note how the value of time has altered. I am not referring to that value which time acquires the nearer we creep towards annihilation although we must acknowledge that the possibility of that outcome is real for many of us right now and is a factor in the way we value our days. I am referring to how refreshing it feels being free from any need or pressure to meet timetables in days not filled up by any visit or activity and empty of obligation. It does not matter if a job is left incomplete or not even started. We have already learnt how to gratefully and with good grace allow ourselves to be loved and cared for, not an easy thing for us fiercely independent-to-the-point-of-rudeness baby boomers. We are now, out of necessity, living in the moment because in our restricted locked down days there is only the moment and outside of that moment only another. I am in admiration of all those on the front line working to protect us and for my family as apprehensive as anyone would be but at the same time seeking out and enjoying, where it is possible, the positives and there are some.
Try not to get too chilled out though. Here I am scuttling hot foot up the Via Vulpes to the greenhouse having left the windows and door open thereby leaving the heater to warm up the entire country.