I'm sharing this page from my Illustrated Journal -- I've been playing with the new watercolour pencils (Faber-Castell) I bought last week. I have a limited range of colours and the paper in my daily journal is not conducive to using much water, but I think these will be useful for enlivening the pages. Shall I transcribe?
July 26, 2018. . . And it's another hot day -- 26C outside, but inside all this glass, so much warmer. I swelter, even in breezy linen . . . which is not as tie-dyed as it appears here -- the tunic is a dark-wash indigo & the pants, very wide with a dropped crotch, are a much paler dove-grey. "Dreamy" to wear. . . if I borrow that overused, so-trendy-now adjective.
I'll interrupt this transcription to show you some photographs of the outfit I sketched
Top left, on the perpendicular: Such a lazy indoor day -- although I did finish and click "Publish" on a blogpost and wrote another to publish later. And (c'mon, give yourself a pat on the back, why not?) will do some more fencing with that memoir chapter -- such a struggle! Oh! And I drew this little page, right? Oh! And I made banana bread. Not so lazy after all. . .
Below my left toes (on the right side of the page: Reading the last Ruth Galloway mystery, The Dark Angel.
And then beginning in a semi-circle hugging that little sketch, bottom left: I sent Paul off for a bike ride with Megan and then curving below the sketch: and I ate my breakfast out on the terrace -- toast & tomatoes & goat mozzarella all broiled just long enough to melt the cheese & set off the smoke alarm which wouldn't stop howling, ratcheting adrenaline through me as I flapped a towel uselessly beneath it, hoping to blow the smoke away.
I know that toast illustration is not very convincing, but I wanted to try it -- I so admire the food sketches by Eliane Cheung, a Parisian freelance illustrator who posts as @mingou_mango on Instagram.
That's it for Monday. Now perhaps you'll tell me what simple, tasty breakfasts you've enjoyed at home lately. Or when was the last time you set off the smoke alarm in your kitchen. . . Or what neglected garment you've been pulling out of the closet lately. . . All comments welcome, as you know. . .