You know what makes me grumpy? All the Grumpy Old Men who appeared on the BBC TV series were younger than me, that's what makes me grumpy. Mutter, mutter....

The Grumpy Old Artist

The Grumpy Old Artist
Would YOU pose for this man???

Exhibition Poster

Exhibition Poster
Catterline Event, 2011

Oil Painting by Jim Tait

Oil Painting by Jim Tait
Helford River, Cornwall

Oil Painting by Jim Tait

Oil Painting by Jim Tait
Full-riggers "Georg Stage" and "Danmark"

Other Recent Works

Other Recent Works
Fordyce Castle and Village

Hay's Dock, Lerwick

Shetland-model Boats at Burravoe, Yell

Tall Ships Seascape

The Tour Boat "Dunter III", with Gannets, off Noss

The "Karen Ann II" entering Fraserburgh harbour

Summer Evening, Boyndie Bay

1930s Lerwick Harbour

Johnshaven Harbour

"Seabourn Legend"

Greeting Cards!

Greeting Cards!
Now Available in Packs of Five or in Assorted Sets of Four

Sunday 14 March 2010

OH BOTHER!

Yesterday evening, I decided to round off my day's labours with the domestic task of ironing a few shirts. While I was setting up the ironing board, one of its "feet" caught the handle of the frypan, which had been on top of the adjacent cooker. It (the frypan) did a couple of somersaults with one-and-a-half twists, spewing its contents of adulterated vegetable oil over the floor, before landing, upside down, on the lino.

I said nothing - had I made an utterance, it would have been short and to the discredit of my Christian upbringing. I stood, surveying the scene of devastation, for a few moments. This was now the worst evening chez moi since the day my ISP went bust and I spilled the beetroot-jar vinegar over my art worktop, thankfully now more than a year ago. And I had yet to replace my old minit mop which I had recently consigned to the dump. I found an old shirt which had been designated a new career as paint-rags, boiled some water, found some detergent, and carefully mopped up the mess therewith.

The floor is now cleaner than it was before (good cometh oft out of evil!), and I still got my shirts ironed. Sometimes there's a quality of grim determination which emerges from the primordial soup of my inner being.

Or something.

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