The small china treasures temporarily removed from the Cabin needed careful unwrapping from the protection of the whicker carrying basket. Jan goes off to brave a refreshing autumn dip in the sea, whilst I sit on the rocks and decide what to do with the crocks. Nervously I turn the cream jug over in my hands and discover something mysterious hidden inside the dustfilled interior. Suddenly out drops a fifty year old biscuit, which Karen reckons is a pure archaeological discovery. We identify it as a Bath Oliver and place the golden round confection reverentially on the rocks. I feel inspired to cleanse the pots and, finding a place to balance on the edge of a deep rock pool, lower the pieces into the pink/green watery underworld to soak in the salty brine and enjoy the sunshine. Later, it was suggested that the Festival of Britain jug should have been in the safety of The Burton Art Gallery & Museum, but I was more worried about the biscuit.
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| Gazing - into an underworld with small person, cup, jug, pot and biscuit! |
Back at No.9 after each journey to the seashore, Cabin or upper worlds, I would delight in drawing upon my thoughts, with watery colour paints and lines of cronky story.
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Drawing - thoughts, paints, scissors and scribbles.
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