FLESH WOUNDS, FRIDGES AND A STALL

Tuesday started badly. Just before 7am, I was stepping out of the bath, when my left foot slipped on the wet floor. My next conscious memory is sitting, soaking wet, on the bathroom floor, feeling rather chastised and foolish, with blood issuing profusely from my left elbow. The towel was still handy, so I proceeded to staunch the flow which, fortunately, stopped after a short while. Thoughts were racing through my mind, such as How do I get up? Should I phone for an ambulance when I do? How do I get dressed? In the end, I bum-shunted my way through to the living-room, where I raised myself on the armchair. I established I could still move all my bits, so I went back through to the bathroom, where I ran a cold bath for the blood-soaked towel. In the kitchen cabinet I found a Mepore wound dressing, which I whacked onto my elbow. I then got dressed for another day chez the Tait gallery.

The previous day, my nephew Kenneth had called, bearing an almost-new fridge which he had promised me as a replacement for my 30-odd-year-old Electrolux which, let's face it, was going to expire of old age soon. It was also badly in need of a defrost. Kenneth has been carrying out extensive refurbishments to the substantial house he inherited on the death of his father a couple of years ago, and I was benefitting from the resultant fridge windfall. Or so I thought. What I hadn't counted on was the fact that the device would have to stand 24 hours, while the gasses settled, before it could be switched on. Meanwhile the old one had been unplugged to defrost, as this would make it lighter (much lighter!) to carry downstairs for disposal. So there I was, sharing my limited kitchen space with two inoperational fridges, with the deteriorating contents of one of them, reminding me of James Bolam in a certain episode of The Beiderbecke Affair (or was it the Beiderbecke Tapes?). Late that afternoon, I decided that I would rather be elsewhere, and made this the excuse for a few pints of good cheer at my local hostelry.

Which brings us back to Tuesday and my deteriorating physical condition and frame of mind. It occurred to me that, if anyone had had a video-camera trained on me when I did my involuntary semi-somersault in the bathroom, I could at least make £250 out of it on "You've Been Framed!"

I cheered up when my sister Thelma arrived later in the morning, and I made us a cuppa, which we were enjoying when Kenneth arrived again, so we had one of the laughter-filled discussions which always seem to take place when a few of us get together. I forgot about my troubles and, after removing the remaining icebergs from the old fridge, we got the new one up and running, and Kenneth set off with the old one, presumably to take it to the Rova Head dump in his hired van. In the afternoon, I did some banking for my mother and had my hair trimmed (at different venues!).

I've started a rather complicated artwork, a result of my trips to the mainland with my camera last October and March. It is a 3ft x 2ft canvas depicting low tide at Johnshaven harbour, and it will take ages to complete, being filled with buildings, stacks of lobster creels, and small boats. The intention is that this will form part of my next Catterline exhibition, if and whenever that might take place.

On Thursday I had arranged to take a stall at the Toll Clock Shopping Centre in order to sell prints, postcards and my new promotional T-shirts to the visitors on the 40,000-ton cruise ship Aida Cara, which was in port that day. The man who is in charge of providing stall-holders with their furniture was extremely pessimistic about my prospects for sales. He claimed that few of the cruise-ship passengers ever made it there and, when they did, they didn't buy anything. His pessimism was well-founded. I sold £50 worth of goods that day, all to local residents, including 3 T-shirts at £10 apiece. This, of course, tells me that I should have my stall there more often, as there is still a market for my stuff among the Shetland population. And there's a social element to this too - I always meet loads of people I haven't seen for ages, and they all stop by for a natter. I'm there again this coming Tuesday when the Azamara Journey is scheduled to be in.

On Friday, I had my usual trip to Whiteness, where I found my mother in good humour and reasonable health. The weather was atrocious, the preceding week of fine days now a mere pleasant memory, so I was unable to work outside. I made our lunch, did my duties as kitchen porter, watered the plants in the greenhouse and elsewhere, and helped out with what I could.

Saturday was a day devoted to artwork, mostly on the Johnshaven painting. And so ended a week of mixed fortunes. My elbow is gradually hurting less. I hope to get my Duff House exhibition paintings framed this incoming week. My framer has been moving shop, and has hitherto been unable to attend to my work. This is a worry!