14 June, 2014

Sailor talk and Ngurunui beach.

I usually paint outdoors (really quiet and peaceful, birdsong, insect  noise, rustle of grass, the odd cow noise, maybe a distant tractor or two.) or in my studio( peaceful but with music of my choice and indoor plumbing). It's nice. I get into the zone, really focus on what I am doing or sometimes get REALLY into the zone and paint in a meditative state, only really coming- to when the painting is done. That is real bliss.

Saturday afternoon saw me with time on my hands. Kids were post sport and occupied and Charles wanted to change the tyre on his motorbike. His man cave is right next to my studio. Nice, I thought. We get to hang out in proximity but each do our own thing. Cool. Living the dream.

Um, no.

I should have known. My even-tempered saint of a husband manages to cope with a hectic job, an artist wife and two semi-feral kids with great grace, but mechanical issues are another story.

The huffs and puffs started about 20 minutes into the operation.Spanner throwing came soon after and sailor talk and shouting then lasted a good 40 minutes. It was hectic. I offered to help (I know, I know, but it's the thought that counts) and was asked to leave. "I have to do this myself. If I get stuck out in the woo-wops and have to change a tyre, no-one is going to be there to help me so I HAVE to do this myself".(cue more throwing of spanners at offending tyre. They bounced back and hit him in the shin. Insult leading to injury. I ran before I laughed). I now know that if he does get a flat tyre in the Australian outback he will die. If he is anywhere in New Zealand, he might still survive(because farmers love to help) .

I  went to check that his life insurance was up to date.

So, not really not an atmosphere conducive to painting, but I soldiered on, music full blast ( I need headphones!) and eventually I painted a totally acceptable piece that I like.

Ngurunui beach, Raglan, New Zealand
Oil on canvas
50 x 75 cm

The tyre is now on the wheel. It is the thing of which we do not speak. I think he is still trying to straighten out his back.Post Tyre Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

PS. The sands on the west coast of New Zealand are often  black due to the volcanic action the islands have seen and still experience. We are not called Shaky Isles for nothing!

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