My weekend

I believe that any artistic or creative endeavour worth undertaking, has a greedy energy that needs to be fed. Which is why it was refreshing to jump in Fairy's Art Mobile yesterday and leave town for a day in Hertfordshire.
I went from an incredibly morose mood (Michael Jackson is dead and has taken my youth with him ) to refuelling my creative energy.
First we drove to an arts fair, and had a lovely time with the some members of the late Stanley Kubrick's family plus guests. Regardless of the medium you use to express your art, good art is good art and being in that stunning natural envioronment fed my creative enrgy.
Then it was off to peruse the house of the late Bernard Shaw. I stood in the living room for a long time staring at his wheelchair and walking sticks. Strange, old battered objects from the past, carry the ghosts of their late owner and are a never ending source of fascination to me.
My mother took me to Madame Tussuad's when I was a kid, and I stood in the Chamber of Horrors for an uncomfortably long time studying the actual toffee bar that the child victim of a serial killer had eaten, along with the actual kitchen units where the murders had taken place. Eventually mother dragged me away from the display. 'That's the last time we're coming here' she said. What can I say? I was a Dark Child in more ways that one.
There is something so fascinating about studying historical relics, which are mute witnesses and bearers of so many secrets and clues.
We strolled around Shaw's beautiful garden and went to see his writing room- a small wooden hut that looked more like a cell than a creative space. Through the window one can see his old desk ,his typewriter and some note paper. There was also a single bed with old blankets, against the opposite wall. The stark, and rather dull character of the writing room surprised us both. It did not look like a creative space, but it was private, it was secluded, and it was neat.
The most interesting thing about the writing room was the revolving mechanism beneath it, which enabled the construction to swivel on it's axis, allowing Shaw to revolve the entire room in the direction of the sun throughout the day.
By the time we left we both felt inspired. And for me something had definitely shifted and lifted, giving me the energy to write.
The story I'm writing is emerging slowly and painfully as with any birth, but their are certain days when even though it's a first draft, and even though their is so much left to do, you feel that you have made some real progress. Today was one of those days. Let's see what tomorrow brings.