Thoughts of a Dying Illustrator.

I did these weird drawings today. The former is of coursemates on the coach into Barcelona, the latter of a very panicked looking family making their way from the plane to the airport - windswept and traumatised, all except dad. Mr Smooth.

The middle image is two old ladies that were on a bench opposite me today in Bournemouth gardens. They knew I was drawing them. They were busy-body types looking at all that was going on, with the lady in red clocking me before I even sat down. They seemed intrigued by my actions rather than horrified, testing my bravery by staring me out for short bursts while I pretended to be looking behind them. I found it really difficult to commit to drawing them for long, and in general drawing on location today felt near-impossible as I was focusing on people who were waiting for something (mostly buses). No-one would stay still or there was no way to face them comfortably.
It's rare in our lives that sitting opposite strangers is the done thing. Largely we all face the same way, alongside each other or in rows, avoiding contact and acknowledgement in everyday situations.

~

On top of these ails, I am also ill. It is a very acute form of ill, but I have been consistently ill for about two months now, and it's grating. It's acuteness is also exactly the problem; if it was worse I could go to the doctor and get better, but as it stands I'd just feel like I was whining and they'd probably tell me to have a rest, which I have. After starting to accept this is just a 'new me', one with difficulty breathing through the nose, a consistently sore throat, head-ache and lethargy, I'm now starting to regain hold of that it shouldn't be this way.

I think I might visit the nurse, and tell her what I just told you.
That, and that I'm giving up bread for lent.