Tuesday follows May Bank Holiday

Tuesday follows May Bank holiday and it’s all back to normal following a good night.The studio beckoned early so I put Banjo in the car, his happy safe haven, to await Jock who can walk him later and am now in the studio. The studio feels expectant but slightly chaotic. I had to do a photo shoot before I left for London and it needs to be ordered again. My studio is silent like I can hear the silence like a cathedral chapel or a museum, somewhere that has a history of endeavour and commitment a place that has witnessed my highest human aspiration and a transcendent place where I have walked with God.
I am always intrigued by the silent presence in my studio. I know it feel the way it does because of ’me’ but it really does feel more than ’me’ and I notice if I take anyone to my studio they are immediately silent and touched by the ’sacred’ sense of place.
I am sitting on a couch with a history it’s a chaise long, placed in front of the window and positioned to survey my paintings on the walls around, and so decapitated that it probably couldn’t be moved except to the tip but I have known it since I was a boy and it has witnessed many remarkable things. I feel that it will be with me till I die and it seats and embraces me in it own inimitable way every day as I sit and assess the world of my vocation.
I always sit on the right of the couch as to my annoyance does the cat if she is here with me as she often is at the start of the day. She is always very put out when I remove her (it is her couch too she sleeps here most nights) and sometimes when especially put out insists on sitting on the arm very still but wither face looking into mine and very close.
Today she is looking at me but from a distance and she is content with her personal grooming.
Next to me the bible is open at 2 Samuel chapter 22. I must have looked up something in Samuel last week but. I am intrigued to read DAVIDS LAST WORDS the heading of chapter 23 at the end of the page. MY mind wandered momentarily to consider the idea of a mans last words and I pick up and read …These are the last words of David the son of Jesse the God of Jacob chose David and made him a great king… Pushkin comes and sits on the page of the bible that I am reading and with her vacant disengaged eyes stares intently at my chin only the occasional twitch of a whisker and narrowing of the eyes break the frozen stillness of her fixed stare. On the low table in front of me (another relic from the past that I made as a coffee table out of pallets when I was about 22) is an ancient Methodist hymn book open at the section THE FUTURE STATE – THE JUDGEMENT and hymn no:1009 to be sung to the tune Helmsley or Lewisham – 87.87.47. EVERY EYE SHALL THEN BEHOLD HIM, ROBED IN DREADFUL MAJESTY; THOSE WHO SET AT NOUGHT AND SOLD HIM PIERCED AND NAILED HIM TO THE TREE, DEEPLY WAILING, SHALL THE TRUE MESSIAH SEE. My mind drifts to consider the oddness of these two observations of end time gravitas before I am disturbed by Chrissy who comes to the studio to relay a telephone message from Jock to say he won’t be coming today as he has to go to Surrey. To my annoyance I must stop this and go and take the dog for a walk.

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