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  • Writer's pictureJL Nash

En Plein-air, a Sicilian woman and the poetry marathon in sight

As I hear Nessun Dorma boom out from behind the fenced off Italian Festival, I come across this lass who is dressed in traditional Sicilian costume. I am compelled to capture her lovely face.

I was with new friend C who came painting with me this morning - we couldn't find any other urban sketchers so we sat and chose our own view. I'm not very good but I'm going to keep on doing it until I get it.

C is an impressive watercolourist and I am lucky to be able to watch how she works. I made a few mental notes of her technique.

Then home again, home again, jigeddy jig to the hubster and we just chill. It's a lovely Saturday afternoon, the morning clouds have dispersed and although I could wear a light jumper, I don't.

Truth and Lies is the new book on the go by Mark Bowden and of course, as with anything to do with behaviour profiling and body language, I am finding it addictive.

I watched The Behaviour Panel analyse Jimmy Saville's body language and facial expressions this morning - not pleasant viewing but an excellent assessment of him.

The poetry marathon Quarter Crazy has come around again. I am so excited to work from 11pm tonight to 11am tomorrow. A poetry prompt per hour and henceforth, a first draft frenzy will occur. I must get my head down to get some sleep but I'm too excited at the moment - bonkers I know. There are approximately 164 of us who participate and many less who finish to time. We get to post our own first drafts and read others' work.

In the gaps between, I'm re-reading some Keats or Sassoon or Elliott. I soothe my jittery legs with Armitage and McGough in the wee hours when the rest of Australia sleeps and I find myself doing Qigong to generate enough energy to get from 5am to 8am. This is my usual M.O. or as Will Graham says in the most excellent and cult TV Series of Hannibal "This is my design".

This week coming, I need to throw some shoes out. This is hard and tears at my sole (sic). I love my shoes. Born with talipes equinovarus, (no, that doesn't mean horse feet) I had to have clumpy, solid shoes all my childhood and school life. I would cry in shoe shops not able to choose light strappy shoes or more girly shoes. I worked in a shoe store as a teenager but wore not much more than a pink pair of adidas trainers or my Doctor Marten's. Conscious that I may need my toes breaking and straightening in my 30s, I stuck with the DM's to save my squirly feet.

By the time I reached 36, my toes had not become gnarled tree roots as predicted by one of my doctors and I began to buy incredibly beautiful shoes. I discovered the brand and my affair with shoes began.

Now, if they break, I am so attached to them that I take them to an old-fashioned cobbler to repair them. Throwing shoes out is not something which comes easy.

I've asked hubster to help me with the out-chucking of certain items. If I try to do it by myself, nothing will leave this home and I will not create the space I need. I'll take some pics of the ones which are going to be either repurposed or recycled.

These two pairs, however, will not be leaving the premises...

Thanks for all your messages and comments, my back is now realigned thanks to the lovely Dan from and although I'm taking things very carefully, I am much better than I was. I managed to go to the first couple of hours of Pub Choir with many friends and the hubster... lots of fun singing...

Pip pip gang, think of me making difficult decisions over shoe designs this week. Take care, tata.

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