GRANT, HAIRCUT AND FILTHY WEATHER

A beautiful Shetland summer seems only a distant memory, as the islands have been soaked regularly in conditions portentive of the approaching autumn. The first severe gale of the season is due to hit us tomorrow evening, so hatches will be battened down urgently during the day. One of the largest cruise ships to visit Lerwick, the "Crown Princess", is due to leave Bergen tomorrow, calling here, on her way to the Faroe Islands, on Wednesday. Personally, I think she'll stay put in Bergen.

Tonight is the opening of the Musa Art Cafe's Coast exhibition in Aberdeen. It takes place on the eve of the big oil expo which opens tomorrow in the city. I'm not holding my breath, but certainly the economic conditions seem right for such an event. Wish me luck and a few sales.

Another one of life's landmarks hove into view this week. I am now eligible for Shetland Charitable Trust's Christmas grant for pensioners and disabled people, and I received the application form on Friday. Casting foolish pride aside, I duly filled it in over the weekend, and delivered it, along with a couple of credit card payments (there's a connection there!), into the capable hands of Royal Mail this morning. I can't afford to turn down offers of money - there's a recession on.

I had a haircut on Tuesday afternoon. This is only an occasional experience for me, as I am equally happy tousled as tidy. I feel grateful for the fact that I've still got a generous quantity of "mooskit" locks which, strange as it may seem, are still substantially (and naturally!) the same colour they've always been. I only wish the rest of my body was as healthy as my hair, which is the object of envy on behalf of my peers, most of who are either as bald as neeps or whose follicles are producing only grey or white growth. So it was with a sense of deep thankfulness that I instructed Katrina Gifford to give me a serious trim.

When I emerged, duly shorn , from the hairdressers, I decided to celebrate my new-mown light-headedness by quaffing a couple of noggins of lager in the nearby Lounge. Unfortunately there were uncannily few customers at the bar - I've never seen the place so quiet. Perhaps the clientele were still recovering from the Blues festival which had taken place over the weekend just past. In a previous existence, I would have participated fully and enthusiastically in this event - now I can't be bothered. I'm becoming a recluse - I suppose it's better than a social pariah!

My family are well. My mother went off for her fortnight's "holiday" at Wastview Care Centre in Walls today. My oldest sister Thelma called on me this morning for elevenses and a natter. My middle sister Mary was a welcome visitor yesterday, bearing, as she was, a bag of potatoes from her garden at Strand. Yum! My youngest sister Angela has sent the first two email despatches of a new term, describing life as a teacher in the European compound at Al Khobar in Saudi Arabia. I gather the weather is pretty hot there just now, and she makes frequent use of the swimming pool. I'm looking forward to my Aberdeen-resident brother Peter Arthur paying us a visit next month. We're pretty close as a family, and enjoy sharing each others joys and sorrows.

I continue to make slow progress on my two Lerwick Harbour commissions and my "stock" painting of Fordyce village. Sometimes I wish I could paint faster, eschewing all my fussy detail in favour of large fields of colour, like many of the "modern" artists. But, I suppose, it just wouldn't be me. My previous attempts at styles such as surrealism have been greeted with howls of derision, as was an exhibition of flower and cat paintings I held in the Shetland Museum about fifteeen years ago. As I've stated in previous posts, it's tough being an artist!