Monthly Archives: November 2018

‘In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.’ Terry Pratchett.

Stories from my Sketchbook . . .

I think I may have mentioned in the past how much I have always loved cats.  I know I only (Only!!  Dear God please don’t tell my girls I said that!) have dogs these days but I was owned by cats long before I was owned by dogs.

My last lovely old cat, Cleo, passed away many years ago now.  She was 18.  She and her brother Jesse (who had passed away the year before) had been with me since they were tiny kittens.  Although I missed them both deeply, at that stage I also had two dogs, one of whom, Harry, came out of the womb hating cats.   Although he eventually learned to tolerate (under severe sufferance I might add) ‘his’ cats, he nevertheless continued to consider every other cat on the planet to be ‘fair game’ and nothing I ever said or did over his long, long life could disabuse him of this view.   Once Cleo passed I really felt that bringing another cat into the house might be pushing his patience a paw too far . . .

And even after Harry himself had wandered off over the Rainbow Bridge it was not very long before puppy Mabel made an appearance, followed closely by Maudie . . . and then Molly and . . .  well . . .  suddenly there were lots of little doggie feet coming and going and I found I had more than enough to keep me busy (and amused) without contemplating adding a cat to the mix.

But then a couple of months ago a new kitty-cat moved in next door and suddenly all those wonderful things I had loved and missed about my own dear cats came flooding back to me.  Their sparkly eyes and deafening purrs.  Their air of disdain and complete belief in their own superiority.  Their lovely squishy kitty-cat feet . . . 

Our new neighbour, Sable, is around 8 months old, soft and glossy and sleek and black . . .  and very, very cheeky (and we all know how I like critters with ‘attitude’.)  He’s very young yet and still getting his bearings but it won’t be long I think until he has the whole neighbourhood under his sway.  But, for now at least, he seems happily content to spend most of his days reclining regally on my garage roof, gazing benevolently down upon his new kingdom and all his adoring subjects.

Well—at least I am adoring.  Mabel, Maude and Molly may take a tad more convincing . . .

This is most definitely NOT a sketch of Sable.
It is however the only thing in my sketchbook that anything like resembles a catso for this story it will have to do . . .


Posted by on November 30, 2018 in Uncategorized


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‘We’re like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.’ Jerry Garcia.

Stories from my Sketchbook . . . 

I blame Megan.  Seriously.  I hadn’t thought about licorice in years.  I don’t remember the last time I even ate a piece of licorice.  But just after Halloween, while we were discussing the perils and pitfalls of buying the right ‘type’ of Halloween sweeties for children, Megan (our newest staff member at the college) related a story about how some kiddies had come to her home trick-or-treating and all she had to left to offer them was licorice. The children were less than impressed ( . . . ran screaming from the building . . . )  That was it.  Just a short funny little story about licorice.  But the weird thing is,  since then it’s all I’ve been able to think about.   I have developed a real craving for licorice . . .

I know licorice is not for everyone.  There seems to be no grey areapeople either love it, or they hate it.  I love it.  All sorts (see what I did there?) but sadly, these days, when it comes to confectionery at least, it has become harder and harder to find real licorice that hasn’t been drastically tampered with.  Although I still love the idea of licorice straps, licorice jelly beans, chocolate covered licorice, and coloured licorice, many of these products don’t actually contain much (if any) real licorice.  Instead, they contain anise oil  which has the smell and taste of black licorice but it’s not actually the real deal.

Mmmmmblack licorice.  Makes my mouth water to think of it.   And, of course, once I had the notion in my head (definitely your fault, Megan!) I had to have some (and I had to have it NOW!) so I went in search of my very favourite licoricethe Pontefract cake.

Now if you are not a fan of licorice you may never have heard of Pontefract cakes (also called Pomfret cakes).  They are small roughly circular black sweets made of licorice, and were originally manufactured in England in the Yorkshire town of Pontefract (hence the name) although I am guessing they were not then in the same form they are now.  It has apparently only been since the 19th century that licorice was used extensively for confectionery, before that it was used for medicinal tonics for both humans and horses . . .

Well one man’s medicine is another girl’s candy.  I have very fond memories of receiving a little pack of Pontefract cakes tucked into the toe of my Christmas stocking every year ( . . .  and as neither of my sisters liked them I didn’t have to share . . . ) and that is the licorice I was craving now.  Soft and chewy.  Not too salty and not too sweet.  So I went searching . . .  and searching . . . and searching.  Could I find any of my most favourite licorice in the local area?   Of course not.  That would have been far too easy.  (When I asked at a couple of local stores and supermarkets if they carried Pontefract cakes, I was met with blank stares or sent to the the bakery section.  Sigh. )

Never mind.  If that is my biggest disappointment this week I have little to complain about.  I found I can still buy my favourite licorice on-line but until that arrives I did manage to find myself a very tasty alternative to subdue the immediate cravings and  ‘tide me over’ and, as an added bonus, the pretty black and gold packet it came in also gave me something fun to sketch.

Soa win-win all around really . . .

The ancient Egyptians believed licorice aided in vitality and longevity.
Large quantities of it were found with in King Tutankamun’s tomb — perhaps he was hoping to live longer in his
 next life?


Posted by on November 16, 2018 in Uncategorized


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‘Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.’ Marilyn Monroe.

Stories from my Sketchbook . . .

‘It never rains but it pours’—isn’t that how the saying goes?  We’ve had no decent rain for months and months and this week we have been deluged.  I’ve literally been paddling around the back garden.

That’s not a complaint though—we’ve desperately needed the rain . . . and at least I’ve had the right ‘shoes’ for the job . . .


Posted by on November 9, 2018 in Uncategorized


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‘Until one has loved an animal a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.’ Anatole France.

Stories from my Sketchbook . . . 

I have never met this wee dog but I loved him as soon as I saw him.  I guess my soul is good to go . . .

Original photo by Australian photographer Alex Cearns
(I love her photo books of animal portraits and they’re also great as photo references for me to practise new techniques and try out new art materials.
Although, having said that, here I am back to using my trusty old blue biro . . . )


Posted by on November 2, 2018 in Uncategorized


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