When I was in Manchester in the summer, I visited a magic art shop-cum-emporium which sold everything arty you could ever want ever. It went on for miles. I bought some things, brought them home, and forgot about them.
I sometimes get very restless in the evenings. I don’t want to sit and watch telly, I want to do something. So I reached for my dusty art supplies.
They’re lovely. I’d forgotten I bought a beautiful black sketch book ((in which I will do colourful drawings) and a really really lovely plain book. The paper seems to be too nice to ruin with my scribbles, but that’s what I’ve done tonight. I got the bug.
I’m not very good t drawing. They always turn out too… flat, somehow. So I try to make them look 3D (and usually fail). They don’t look 3D. They look flat and at an odd angle, but I don’t care. I drew them, they’re quirky, they’re mine.
You don’t have to like them, but I do. So there.