Art Junket

My artistic engine is running very much on dross and fumes. I am sputtering along in my current milieu, devoid of inspiration, filled with ennui, dull in all my faculties, glassy eyed and pushing through life as through treacle. This seems to me terribly wasteful and I think I should go on an artistic junket. I feel the lure of all things tropical, palm trees and coconut fibre, sand and salty sea. So I went to Norma Jeans for a fitting (she is making me another coat), with this lure hooked firmly in my heart, which being the intuitive entity she is she was able to see straight away. A large and seemingly insurmountable obstacle to this junket being the conspicuous lack of pecuniary freedom. It was time to approach her Oracle once again, that marvellous tome, The Constance Spry Cookery Book. (For new readers I should note that Norma Jean practices an eccentric form of divination whereby, in trance state, she consults said tome for guidance).
So the lights were dimmed, the curtains drawn, the candle spread it's ancient glimmer, incense filled the air and Norma Jeans attractively shadowed lids began to droop over her dreamy eyes, lips parted and she began to flip the pages of Constance Spry's excellent volume. Did I see the candle flicker? Did a chill mist the air? Was there a little thrill up my spine as her hands stilled over a page and her lashes swept upwards? Yes, yes and yes again.
'This is the sign' she announced. Under the auspicious title Sea Fish, the recipe Filets De Sole Sylvette was revealed. A delicious sounding dish of fish in a creamy sauce. This Norma Jean said is proof positive that my yearning for tropical climes should be followed. The Pacific she thinks, and to be more specific, the French Pacific. Immediately I thought of Gaugin, that old reprobate, and his time in Tahiti. 'Tahiti. Oh yes' said Norma Jean, the last vestiges of trance upon her. 'Yes Tahiti is is'. The issue of funds remained unresolved but her parting words to me as I left were 'Remember, this is a very rich sauce'.
I went about my business, which that particular day included a yoga class led by Hugo. I am improving in the strict discipline that is Iyengar yoga and finding it very healthful. As I lay in a half shoulder stand my thoughts wandered back to the issue of funding my journey. And the answer came to me so forcefully I almost fell over. A rich sauce, a rich source... Of course! The Anonymous Patron.
So after the class I approached Hugo, the Anonymous Patron's seneschal. I mentioned the Patron had commissioned another video work from me and that I would like to undertake it in Gaugins wake, on Tahiti. After some days Hugo contacted me and the answer Amazingly was Yes! It shows great faith in my efforts and I am more pleased than I can say. There is a little tension with Xavier who seems to feel he should have been included in this whole venture but I explained this was really something I felt I needed to do by myself and that really he did have enough to be going on with himself. So I am in the full flight of preparing for my journey and Norma Jean is obligingly making me an appropriate wardrobe.

Cucumber Sandwiches with Maude

Well I consider the matter closed. It is unanimous. My nose stays. Though there were only two votes, they were unequivocal. So I take myself and my peculiar proboscis on a nice balmy holiday somewhere. The weekend High Tea with Rupert the ring designer was quite a volatile occaision in the end. The designs are highly impractical and try as I might to explain to Xavier that the poor girl will want to actually wear the ring, he would have none of it. Finally he ordered me to take my cucumber sandwiches and GO! It's a good thing Xavier and I are able to weather these little storms. He rang me barely an hour later to further discuss his choice of design (which description would only do injustice to. It has to be seen to be believed and seen it shall be as this unprecedented medium will allow for a photo of said creation when it is ready). He of course ignored the whole 'take you cucumber sandwiches and Go!' incident and I had to bring it up with the complaint that I really did look a little odd carrying a three tiered plate of cucmber sandwiches on the train and was lucky in my seating companion, an elderly Lady called Maude, with a lovely blue rinse do, who was happy to share the sandwiches and have a lovely chat about cultivating Tulips. Hence I still had a High Tea of sorts and Maude and I became fast friends. Xavier was chagrined as Xavier always is.