Actually, when I did wake up my first thoughts were of Shaker Makers and plaster of Paris. I don't know why, but I had the scent of the stuff under my nose. Puzzling. It brought back a giant wave (is it safe to say that yet) of nostalgia and I nearly sneezed such was its potency.
It made me think of my youth when I tried to form Beatrix Potter characters from rubber moulds. Mrs Tiggwinkle was never supposed to resemble John Merrick but with small pots of paint she was an absolute treasure. I wonder what happened to my work? Lost now I suppose, rotted down like all matter. She probably lies buried in a landfill site with two decades of household waste and hard core above her, giving off noxious fumes no doubt.
No comments:
Post a Comment