Talking To Myself.

Dear Diary,
                  Some days, due to the pain in my feet, walking is a terrible chore. I feel really guilty that I can’t take Mia the German Shepherd for long rambles. I don’t want to moan too much, nobody wants to hear about miserable stuff but I thought, while it is wet and miserable outside a little bit more won’t be too much to tolerate just this once. I suppose I should be grateful that I have enough space around me to give her enough exercise with ball games. Yes I am grateful for that. The pain isn’t always there either so I am grateful for that too.

I used to run long distances. Not as part of a club or anything. Just on my own and just for the sheer joy of it. Miles and miles I used to go. Probably ran a few marathon distances without even realising it. Sometimes in my dreams I imagine I still run everywhere. My feet hardly making contact with the ground and almost floating.

In my early forties while running across the park I was side swiped by a collie dog. It knocked me to the ground twisting my knee sideways. The dog’s owner was apologetic  and I told her I was fine. As it turned out, I wasn’t all right at all and my running days were effectively over from that day on.

That’s enough introspection. I am going to paint today. I have a quick sketch of flying ducks I shall turn into a work of art.

I have sold seven paintings this year including commissions. All right it’s not many but it’s seven more than Vincent Van Gogh sold in his entire life, short though it was.

I don’t keep a record of how many paintings I have sold in my lifetime. The first one I sold I was in my twenties. I must have sold hundreds since then I would think. I remind myself of this when I lose heart with the whole art thing which is quite frequently.

Not at the moment though. At the moment I am in full artistic mode and loving it.

Feeling happier now that’s off my chest.