January 23rd 2015: On reflection I think I would have started drawing the boy first and then King Neptune Father figure emerging from the North Sea behind him.........and then the horizon line spreading eastwards across to the other page followed by directionless animal nonsense, and there you have it.
And you dip the pen in the bottle at intervals and you draw. Like scales, not fish scales. Practice makes perfect. Like playing the piano. Like bowling a cricket ball. Because I'm scared. And the ink spreads. The line marches outwards. Invades the cheap rag paper. Draw from experience. Recent history. Two days in Cromer.Why are you doing this? Because the commissions have dried up. Because people don't get my ironic humour in print? Because Americans don't get my sarcasm? Because my past has caught up with me. Because I became complacent. Because my brain is a pea? I'm attempting the impossible. I'm trying to dig up, I'm trying to find an idea for a childrens book. Huh. Hysterical. Hilarious. Git! So why don't I scribble with a wax crayon?