Not that I really blame him. It is France 1915 on our tiny street. The house vibrates from 7 to 7 from the huge front-end loaders, the gravel trucks and the trenching machine which occupy our territory. I suppose the watermains might be as old as that war and they frankly do need replacement but poor Theodore, a dog who is afraid of cardboard boxes, is rigid with terror.
So I wasn’t surprised when, in the studio later he tried to scale my legs to get to the safety of my lap. I’m into the final glazes of the two paintings which I have been posting and, tempting as is the thought of sitting, I’m a stand up painter. Like most painters, I use my whole arm frequently - sometimes to scrub, sometimes to lay down a line, sometimes to glaze.
Scared or not, Theodore will have to settle for the floor at my feet where, no doubt, I will do a header or two. Plus ca change….