Painting the Stairwell

I've spent a few hours over the last couple of days painting the stairwell, as I may have mentioned. Today's task involved taping a paintbrush tightly on to the end of an extending roller and filling in little bits at the top where the pink plaster was still peeking through. It worked quite well. 

Stair-well, in fact (boom, boom!). There are annoying little bits lower down that I may have to patch up but I'll wait for a couple of days until it's bone dry before doing that.

I woke really early this morning which was partly infuriating, but I had a couple of song ideas that made it worthwhile and soon I was off to the land of nod again, and slept until nearly ten o'clock. This was simultaneously thrilling and unnerving. I do want to make the little adjustments to the Chefs tracks that James suggested, but maybe that can wait until tomorrow.

Yesterday's recording session was terrible. I made mistakes in both songs, just couldn't get the feel right- and washing the paint off my hands has been very bad for my fingernails. I may wait until next week: I know that I can do it, and I might be able to make one of the songs better if I rest it for a while. 

Too many things are happening: there are two exhibitions that I want to go to and I hope they don't finish before I get there. I wanted to go to Lucy O'Brien's talk about her Liver Birds book yesterday evening, but I got so wet earlier on that I felt the need to just stay at home and dry out. I took my collapsible brolly to a friend's house, left it, and it migrated somewhere else before I had the chance to pick it up. 

In the end, you have to accept that being creative takes a lot of time. You have to practice your musicianship or you get rusty, and you have to practice your artship, too. Eventually I'll get round to making an online shop and selling some fo my drawings. I'm under a snowdrift of paper, a draw-drift.