On Thursday night I dragged the husband along to the house of the gentleman who has commissioned me to paint a portrait of his father who was a soldier in the Irish Guards, you know, the ones with the red uniform and the big black bearskin hats who guard Buckingham Palace. We sipped wine and, sorry Dad, because I know you sometimes read this, watched a dvd of The Trooping of the Colour for 1hr & 45mins so I could pause the dvd and take photos of the uniform. I know. Riveting. That's how exciting my life is.
Right now I'm wondering why this weekend I can't get myself to put the first stroke of paint onto the canvas to paint my soldier and what Freud would say about the other soldiers I've started on.