Twenty degrees? Twenty two? Twenty three? Twenty five this afternoon? Twenty. 3pm. sat in the sun outside the studio door glass of red wine. A mob of Long Tailed Tits making a racket in a plum tree. Don't want to work.
Earlier a courier who bore an uncanny resemblance to Albert Einstein, he got it wrong at first, went next door, knocked at my door. David Hughes? Yup. Sign at the bottom. I scrawled an autograph across his mini screen. Unsealing the packet to find a magazine for which I was asked to contribute. 'Britain, Hometown of Picture Books'. South Korea - God Bless You. I know if I remember correctly that I said something along the lines of 'what do you expect, bloody Beatrix Potter...' in the interview. I like to think their designer has a keen sense of humour, even if they did manage to crop off/amputate the feet of I presume John Bull. What am I doing amongst this company? Kate Greenaway, Beatrix Potter, Charles Keeping, Shirley Hughes, Quentin Blake, John Burningham, Oliver Jeffers, Sara Fanelli, Harriet Russell, to name a few....surely some mistake. Brilliant. Genius. Cheers. Long live the dog! Buy it now, let's hope the translator has a keen sense of humour too. Can't trust no one least of all Albert Einstein.