The Economy.

I can hardly bear to watch as politicians thrash around yet again trying to pull back the £. A fictitious £ may I add. The world has gone mad. Real human suffering is the end result of fictitious money, with half the money owed, being nothing more than a number on a computer screen with no 'asset' behind it.

When are we going to give up the ghost. The economy is falling like a pack of cards in slow motion. Too slow for some to see. It's hard to see when you're in M+S looking at the perfect shelves with food abundant. But if I didn't have a penny then I could not eat that food. That statement should sound bizarre.  If I am born onto this planet-why should I need money to eat food and drink water?

Millions of people have suffered at the hands of this barbaric commercial system. It-does-not-work. Never more so when it's at YOUR door and the wolf is coming to the UK's door.


Let's disband the monetary system, lets disband parliament, bring on the experts of city architecture, lifestyle, ecology, botany, zoology, agriculture, futuristic transport, modern energy-lets hear from scientists, sociologists, psychiatrists who are better versed to know what suits society best.We want a world of abundance for all, where resources are shared equally, where work is no longer to raise another fictitious £-but to develop the planet, to protect wildlife, to nurture animals, to stop all suffering and to enjoy leisure.

I want that world, that world is within our grasp, we can build a paradise here on earth.

A world without money? Many people will say-But how will I spend my days? What would be my motivation for getting up in the morning? How sad we have become in our quest for accumulating material objects simply for the sake of having them, that we can see no other motivation in our lives.

Give yourself a moment to think about life where money did not exist. Where we lived in tune with the planet, working hard in the summer to siesta in the winter months. Where resources were shared around the world. Where you and I lived a fulfilled life doing what you truly enjoyed. Where each individual would all fall neatly into their true path, be it a doctor, teacher, scientist, poet, mother, builder, driver, carer..

I imagine a scene in my perfect world where mans only concern may be the big gathering at the end of the week where millions of people come together simply for the enjoyment of socialising, stepping of futuristic transport to some incredible event. Imagine that, a life where the focus was unity, continually meeting vast amount of new people, prioritising floral and fauna, where not one animal was killed inhumanely but loved and protected,  where the television did not have one advert other than to show the immense beauty of the planet. Where everyone was equal. No monarchy no class system no wealth for the few, no wars, but resources for all.

All the answers are there. It's not difficult.

I Want to go Home

"Please, pleeeaaase" I said.

My eyes shut tightly. "pleease" I whispered

"Please let me go to the Mothership and let someone else take my place."

I implored a while longer until I fell asleep.

......Monday came as usual.

I Wish The Machine Would Stop

I wish the machine would stop-just for one day.

In the mornings, I wake to a car in the distance moving closer and then hear the brakes as it navigates the corner outside my home.

"Bloody Hell" I think. " Another day." I curse that driver and all those to follow. If they hadn't left their homes that morning, I wouldn't have to hear them and I wouldn't have that affirmation in my ear that the machine is starting again. I turn to my pillow, hitting it, disappointed that my wish hasn't come true yet again. The machine gains momentum as people scuttle past my kitchen window. Dogs start barking and children start crying. "Just one day" I think.

One day, when everyone can stay under their duvet's and do nothing. No need to shave. No need to wear a suit. No need for mascara. No need to pick up the phone to call in sick. No need for appointments, or catching trains. No need for shopping, washing or paying bills. Everyone can just stay home and walk to their kitchen's in their P.J's with one sock half-off.

I do hate those cars, like little blood platelets in the machines veins, making it alive.

The nearest we get to the machine stopping is when it snows. Like an Alka-Seltza or milky soothing fluid to calm the engine, a crystal crusted merry-go-round frozen in time.

There's something much more delicious when everyone is off together, as though you can feel the camaraderie or borg like union.  Everyone stays home, half riddled with guilt, relaying your 'snow story' in your mind that you'll tell your boss, but so, so happy, as the white flakes whizz past your window, and you look out just to make sure it's still 10inches thick and there's no way anyone could walk in that!

Heaven.

Where Wild Things Are.

I purchased the film Where Wild Things Are as it was on sale in Sainsbury's.

With the movie playing in the background on the TV, I sat with my laptop trying to catch up on last weeks work, typing electrical readings into a graph. I paid only small attention to a quite wonderful adaptation that was unfolding. The moment that caught in my throat (for those who haven't seen it) was when the boy leaves in the boat and the monsters start to howl at the loss. I've howled like that a few times.

For some reason the movie began to truly resonate about a week later, BINGO! somewhere in the depths of my memory banks the book was there, sitting at an angle of an overstuffed primary school bookshelf or library. I can't exactly remember which it was (school or library) but the memory of the moment, that time in history, became familiar again.

The design of the set is impeccable and there are many spin-off's of homage to this fine design. I utterly, utterly love it.

Saturday afternoon

Egg noodle, soy and chopsticks-lunch saturday 2.30pm

Life from my window goes on...

My Father Was A Criminal

My father was a criminal. That in itself is interesting. One day I went to visit him but neither himself or his home was there. He had burnt his house down. It was written in the local newspaper that Michael Ahmed had said in the dock "I was frying chicken wings My Lord, when the fat caught fire." I do remember he did indeed have a love for chicken wings. I noted it on his "meals for the week" graph placed on the kitchen wall, as some kind of attempt at structure in his life. Unfortunately the Judge was not impressed and dad got marched off to Norwich Prison again, (he was a regular) this time for insurance fraud and arson.

My mother told me that when dad was young (a young criminal) there was a headline in the papers "Guns blazing in Soho". Yes, that was my dad too.

The Egg and Tree

When I moved to Oxford, I rented a near barren house, the owner a typical bachelor. There was little style-just functionality. The house had an inordinate amount of insects. Giant spiders would scuttle across the lounge floor about 11pm at night. Moths would locate themselves high up near the alcove in the hallway and all manner of other horrible insecty things. I felt that I was a lodger in their abode.

Finding relief in my bedroom, the one room where human life was apparent and the insecty things didn't venture, I painted a lot, often from friday night right through to sunday in the late hours.

The visual that gave me the most pleasure was the egg in the tree. When I paint I see the visual before hand firmly imprinted in my mind's eye, then transfer this onto canvas. However the egg in the tree doesn't make any sense to me. I have no idea what it means, or where it comes from. It's a source of endless fascination and I draw it yet.