The Masons

Having a few spare moments in Covent Garden while en route to The Courtauld Institute to deliver my last teaching session for the spring term. Its quite a sunny day and I am sitting on a rather over designed rubbish bin on a small traffic island. The Masonic Hall has long been a fascination of mine and I am often tempted to pop into their "shop". While drawing a taxi pulls up directly between me and the view and deposits a family of four; mother two children and grandmother. They sit down next to me on the over designed bin and I cannot help but tune in to their conversation. They are on a day out from Nottingham. After a while another taxi draws up and the dad appears, he works in London and is meeting his family for a holiday day out.

Unhealthy Obsession?

The sun is shining and as I head out with sketchbook and watercolours I find myself walking with purpose towards the Snackwagon. The location has slightly altered since my last visit, it is now back on the small road that runs through the common between The Avenue and the Windmill pub. It is a stop off for the local police, fishermen and taxi drivers. They gather at all times day and night to sample Tom and Terry's burgers and hot dogs with a cup of tea in a polystyrene cup. I think I am beginning to develop an unhealthy obsession with the Snackwagon.

Not Calm

I am trying to calm my nerves and distract myself from thinking about a forthcoming interview. Immersed in drawing these two guys which is not easy since the train fills up to a ridiculous level after London Bridge, apparently experiencing New Year levels  of unprecedented passenger confusion due to a new platform layout. Still I soldier on craning my neck around those standing in the aisles, determined to obscure my view. The train clears a little and the guys are still sitting there, I continue to draw. One of them gets up to leave the train at Moorgate......... and I notice I have missed my stop- I am not calm.

Debenhams Sale.........again

Debenham's cafe yet again. I often sit drawing over previously made drawings just to get to the end of someone else's conversation. Its like Groundhog day. There is never not a sale in this store, they take many forms; Blue Cross Day, Half Price Sale, Seasonal Sale, Clearance. Whatever type of sale they never seem to shift the stock. Somehow the former incarnation of Arding And Hobbs shines through whatever modifications are made. The cafe is constantly being re-modelled but always under the (rather soiled) grand stained glass dome, beneath which the range of moist paninis on offer are generally of strange and unfortunate combinations. Much like the entire in-store stock.

Woman writing in Tate Modern

I am in Tate Modern members bar on a gloomy grey November day. I spot a spare table and a good subject. The woman is writing in a large book and looking rather crossly at a small child at the next table who I suspect is interrupting her thought flow. Andrew brings coffee and sits down- right in front of the subject. After obvious signalling, which I am sure she is aware of, he moves to my right. I carry on drawing as he then begins to take photos by placing his phone camera at the level of my eyeline. I am becoming irritated and our conversation starts to take a turn........When I look back at the writing woman I realise I know her. We leave swiftly.

Punk Granny with Family and Dog

A family; Grandpa, Grandma, Baby and Dog. They sit spaced out facing the same direction. The grandmother is very tanned and has a punk granny hair cut. I am aware that she is conscious of being stared at, discretion is generally a vital part of my sketchers skill set but I am so curious about her hair style I cannot implement my usual effort at not being seen. Her hair is spiked up from the nape and dyed a faded pink. I cannot decide if this was an intentional look or the consequence of too much sun.

Tom and Terry's Snack Wagon

This is Tom and Terry's Snack Wagon on Clapham Common, one of the more uncomfortable drawing sessions. In order to get the optimum angle I am sitting precariously balanced on one of the metal rods suspended between wooden posts that define the common, it is windy and I am having hair issues. There is nowhere to put down my materials bag as my ideal view spot is surrounded by stinging nettles. I am adjacent to the very busy road and determined to paint on regardless. A voice behind me repeatedly shouts "Excuse me". I turn to see who this voice is addressing and am taken aback to see a driver, window down and a line of backed up traffic behind him. He is talking to me.