Eugh, I have golf balls in my throat that for some reason I appear to have swallowed partially and they are now stuck there, sore and swollen, red inflamed and kind of oozing some foulness down my throat that leaves a foul taste in my mouth that nothing will shift.
I have felt unwell for a couple of days. My tolerance for illness is about 48 hours. Any longer than this I begin to wonder why am I just not getting on with it? I'm being lazy, mardy, pathetic etc, etc.
My head feels big, I have slept most of the day. My mouth is sticky dry and my back is killing from being in bed all day.
I have wasted a day, precious in the world of "there are just not enough hours in the day".
I did finish the cover of my new sketchbook, ready to be filled and altered for my new project on the human form. I haven't used an altered book as a sketchbook for a while and I felt this project needed just that. It was a book of industrial archaeology. Fairly wordy and with a few full page images needing removing to allow room for adding pages and painting over the pages I need to be less busy.
Here's the front cover. It's from a sketch I did a couple of weeks ago. I really like this model, she is beautiful and has a natural way with her that leaves me a bit over excited and breathless. Not felt so excited about a model before, but she is really really good. Potentially a muse for my future career and fame and fortune? Yeah OK, fame and fortune? Obscurity and poverty more like.
To be famed and fortunate you have to be able to do stuff and apparently I am not able to do anything for the foreseeable future because I have these idiot tonsils that insist on staying right where they are, too big and infected for me to be out of bed for more than a couple of hours.
Pants.
Ended up covering the acrylic paint with oil pastel, which I rarely use.
