Blood will Flow

Adventures with

dizzojay

I’d thought this convention had promoted itself as the taking the best from all kinds of conventions and at first it seemed like it was pretty well organised - but then it wasn’t.

But JDM was delightful. I had a lovely photo op with him early on; there was a minder guy who was friendly and got your name while you were waiting, then shouted "an Anne-Marie comin’ in" to Jeff as you walked towards him. He made eye contact, noticed my Dean shirt straight away and beamed, saying “my boy!”. I showed him the white marble and asked if he remembered the pearl, and he laughed, said should I do this? while crossing his hands over his crotch, then when we were done we had a hug and he rumbled “As if I could ever forget The Pearl!”

Photo number 2 was Jeff and the Impala, which was when the con admin side began to unravel. We were told to get our Jake photos first, then that people were already queuing outside for Jeff. We asked and staff told us Jeff was there and the queue was definitely outside. We moved outside, lots of people milling about, staff member tells people with photos to queue here. Jeff’s other minder comes out to tell everyone no photos, Jeff comes out, waves at everyone, mobile photos are allowed briefly, Jeff goes back inside, we wait. Suddenly someone tells us the real queue is INside, back where we were before. Eventually after much debate and kerfuffle, I drag Natalie inside and we find the end of the proper queue, and of course we are then right at the back. Being inside does mean we can see Jake has arrived, go get our Jake photos then go back to Jeff’s queue.

Finally we get to Jeff, the same jolly man (looking like a SPN character in plaid shirt and chef’s shoes) does the intro thing for us, and because I’d got hot while hanging around, I’m announced as Jeff’s biggest fan (ha ha!). Jeff is warm and charming again. I make an idiot of myself going the wrong way, have to wait for the next photo to be taken, am scurrying back inside to photo collection when the photographer shouts at me I need a retake because my eyes were closed. So I get to be the very last Jeff/Baby photo, get an extra squeeze and feel of the soft leather jacket, and Jeff telling me “I’m always fuckin’ up, darlin’” when I explain I messed up the first photo.

He’s so NICE!

So basically all of that - queuing for Jeff, queuing for Jake, queuing for Jeff again - took all morning and most of lunchtime. So the Stargate panels I thought I’d be able to pop in and see, big nope. We grabbed a drink and snack, Jane decided to go and queue for Jeff’s first auto session, which was due to start at 14:30. I go up to my room for half an hour or so, then think I’d better see where the others were. Joined them in Jeff’s queue, and it was just as well, as that ended up being the only auto session he did, and it was a marathon.

Because all his morning sessions had massively overrun, he was then late starting signing, came in probably about 15:30. There were several queues, no instructions from staff until we’d all been standing there for ages. Then we are told JDM VIP tickets were being given priority and should all move to the outside lane queue. An hour later it’s clear all the queues are moving together. Three hours later we eventually reach JDM! Who was clearly knackered but still giving everyone his full attention, personalising the autos, engaging with everyone.

So after that all panels were finished apart from JDM’s, which should have happened at c16:00 and only started at 18:00. Just as well he was only doing the one day because his voice had nearly gone… The panel was a lot of fun though, and it was a good day in terms of interaction, terrible for the uncertainty, mixed messages and lack of communication. I hope if this person decides to do more, they will listen to feedback from both sides, guests and attendees…

As I'm doing entries (for now, anyway!), a note to my future self. Do not buy ANY more paper or sketchbooks. Seriously.

I've signed up for the sketchbooking class (fingers crossed it will actually happen this term, as the last couple of courses have been cancelled due to lack of take up) and so I was up in my 'art room' trying to decide what book to take to fill up with the kind of experimental stuff Steve likes to prompt. I've got SO MANY SKETCHBOOKS, guys, it's not funny. I ended up with a pile of seven books already started, in various stages of completion, all good watercolour paper. I'm reluctant to use that for this course because a lot of the time we're just using pencil, or mixed media, or whatever, and you really don't need the 100% cotton for that, and cold pressed is probably not the best surface either.

But then I realised I'd recently ordered two more of those good watercolour books (in the sale, so I had to, right?), and the shelf I'd been stashing those on was actually two deep, which means for that make of watercolour book alone, I now have FIVE unopened, still wrapped. I checked my cupboard where I was supposed to be keeping the 100% cotton paper (blocks, books etc) and there were more in there (different brands), and more in the other cupboard, and then I discovered several different places I've been storing my aquabord/gesso boards etc and I've got a lot more of those than I thought.

So I eventually found the hot pressed 100% cotton Will Bailey sketchbook I'd started using for Steve's last evening course and am taking that with me. The moment I flicked through it I remembered going through this whole faff last time too. DOH!

I probably should take a day and have a proper sort out of everything in that room because my policy of shoving things in a drawer or on a shelf 'for now' is clearly getting out of hand.  From what I've seen today, I could draw or paint two pages a day and still not have used everything I've already got - and the worst thing is I now know that the good watercolour paper doesn't keep for that long before the sizing goes off. I feel a bit like I've become the 100% cotton watercolour paper equivalent of a crazy cat lady. (And I should probably add actual paint to that crazy too, since I've become a collector of pigments).

The strategy of having lots to make me less fearful of using it is actually causing a different kind of art paralysis where I have too many choices and can't decide what to do or which supplies to use.

And if all that isn't a massive first world problem, I don't know what is. What an idjit.

I thought I should probably do an update for posterity, since I don't keep a diary any more and have the memory of a lobotomised earthworm.

I'm currently staying at my mum's again, waiting for her to be allowed home from hospital after stomach untwisting operation no:2. She went in on Saturday 12th when her vomitting recurred and she noticed there was blood in it. I travelled up on the Monday.

She's doing well, determined as usual and way stronger than me, but is stuck there for the moment because the hospital is a frigging mess. I think/hope the surgeons are more competent than the general adminstration, ward staff and I am making excuses for the nursing staff who I assume are under pressure and understaffed - but really. She had the op last Tuesday and the day after they were encouraging her to eat solid food. She's had two tubes stuck in her stomach, not for feeding, as the one doctor I've been able to speak to assured me, and he said (on Thursday? Friday?) but they are in 'for a while' so she can't come home until they know she's comfortable with cleaning them twice a day. So we knew all this on whatever day that was, and the next day the tube nurse came to show Mum what to do. She left a bundle of instructions and a syringe which is used in the process, and said she'd be back the next day. So this brings us to the weekend - Laura of the Tubes failed to return and still hasn't made her reappearance. The instructions etc were helpfully tidied away by someone so Mum couldn't find them and nobody else could find them either, if any of them bothered looking, which I doubt, since a Nurse called Binky (I know, you can't make this up) came to see Mum demonstrate her cleaning abilities and found the stuff in the back of the locker by Mum's bed.

Out of reach of a patient who's had a stomach operation and can't bend over.

On Sunday morning a nurse read Mum's notes and told her she wasn't supposed to be on solids, all her food should be pureed. I mean. This is what, 3-4 days after the op, and nobody had bothered to check this before? Luckily eating normally doesn't seem to have caused any problems but it might have, right?

So she's not allowed home until she's learned to do this cleaning thing, plus she also needs to be assessed by the physio, Since the junior doc told me this last week, and it's in the hospital's interest to free up her bed, you'd have thought they'd have got that phsyio down there asap. If not at the weekend then Monday, right? Wrong - no phsyio has materialised yet.

It's just such terrible communucation amongst themselves, let alone with their patient, and so ridiculously incompetent. Could this bunch organise a piss up in a brewery? I have my doubts.

Ugh I knew if I started cataloguing this it would turn into a rant but.

So there's all this, but on top of it is the fact the hospital is technically still locked down with covid measures. I say technically because the main building where Mum is now has a reception, but the doors are open and you can just walk in unchallenged. Which is just as well, since the ward she's on has a telephone extension but nobody to answer the damn phone, so unless you turn up at the ward door in person, you have zero change of finding out what the hell is going on. I got to speak to a nice nurse on Saturday who was very informative, and as a bonus popped Mum into a wheel chair and brought her out of the ward so I could speak to her face to face - and she could see out of a window for the first time since she was admitted.

Today I went one better because my Mum's neighbour gave me a lift there, which meant I had to go when she was ready, which meant I arrived at the ward door just before lunch. It was pretty chaotic and noone had time to take Mum's bag of stuff I'd brought, so when another woman arrived with a visitor bag and just walked straight into the ward, I decided to follow suit. Found Mum out of bed, had a bit of a quick conversation and grabbed this photo to show the family she's doing ok.

I was thinking about how the outside of our house is in dire need of redecorating again, and wondering whether I should contact Oh Dear Dave (the guy who did it last time, way back in 2010/11). I hadn't kept in touch with him since the Dragon's Den application debacle, which some of you might vaguely remember. I'd eventually bitten the bullet and told him I categorically couldn't edit his submission. He'd not been happy with me, and then went radio silent, which I wasn't surprised about.

Anyway, he might not have been able to write for toffee, but he was a good painter and decorator, so I thought I'd try and track him down. Now I'm unreasonably upset to find out that he died of cancer in 2017, which is just so terribly sad. He had a wife and the cutest little curly-haired little boy called Cyril (who calls a kid Cyril in this day and age?), and I dunno. I think he may have already been ill when I was turning down his editing job.

Anyway, I'm sad he's gone, and sad I didn't know until now, because I'd have sent his wife some flowers or something.

I found a video he made when he decorated our next door neighbour's house - he still cracked me up saying it had been a prostitute's den. (It was a Swedenborgian Meeting House!!)