Summertime

We drove down to the Central Belt for the weekend, visiting with Craig’s relatives who are over from Canada, and attending his niece’s fourth birthday party.

I drove much of the way down, then to and from our various destinations (like the Scottish Game Fair at Scone Palace  — the biggest collection of tweed and dogs I’ve ever seen). So I’ve finally broken through the last barrier: driving around the South, including the multi-lane roundabouts and the motorway.

The weekend really felt like summer. Maybe it’s because we had Canadian visitors, so I was conscious of being here, in Scotland, like it was a big vacation — because I knew it was for our visitors.

I’m back to work, though the relatives will be reaching us up here this coming weekend, so the summer holiday goes on. There’s a nice dynamic to this family: the kids are really well-behaved, but still very much their own people, full of energy. With just a word, the parents can reign it in, yet it doesn’t feel at all oppressive; it’s just a working relationship — loving and friendly, but still providing the structure to help the kids get on in the world later on by being appropriate and likeable. That’s the kind of parent I’d want to be.

Getting back to drawing practice this morning, I was a bit stumped. I drew some random things I wanted to work on (clouds and trees, a boat entering Wick Harbour), but there’s something lifeless about drawings I do just for the exercise of it.

I’m forever collecting work and ideas to inspire me, but when it comes time to draw I can get stuck. It’s oppressive, this idea, “Produce!” So I stopped, asked myself what I felt like doing, and…

It’s so much fun, being that kid in grown-up form, having the freedom and the skills to do whatever I want to. The trick is getting clear about what that is.