So it's June, so obviously it's raining....

...how vastly irritating. Murphy's Law does, I'm convinced, follow me where ever I go. I managed to get myself a part time job afew weeks ago (as, shockingly, being an artist makes you bugger all money, unless you're at ease covering a dirty bed with used condoms or cutting mammals in half) and somehow I ended up working every day last week. And so I stood indoors, gazing out at the sunshine.

This week I have one shift. And it pisses with rain.

Typical.

Mind you, I have felt oddly musey this week. I have been busy doodling away at my cartoons and begun some new paintings.

Is it disturbing that I will sometimes take out old Wuss 'n Boots cartoons and begin laughing hysterically at the jokes. Jokes which I myself came up with. Jokes I know, and have read over and over. Yet still members of my family may bumble into my room and find me giggling ridiculously clutching one of my own drawings.

How odd.

One of these particular cartoons included one based on my childhood. Up until the age of about 9 I genuinely believed dinsaurs were extint because (and I am quoting my father here) they all farted at the same time and poisoned each other. People must have thought I was an idiot child....

If anyone needed proof of how far out the right hand side of my brain really is, read this. I found it scribbled on paper in a huge pile of drawings/incessant ramblings/old chewing gum;

"I was bestowed upon Melton Mowbray from on high as a mere mortal toddler. Any of you lucky Meltonians over the age of 20 would have felt the sonic boom of my touch down (I'll be frank, I was an incredibly fat baby, words can't even begin to describe my excess knee flab).

I will admit my very early work left a lot to be desired, but hey, I was five. My indecipherable doodles are still pretty much indecipherable, but of a better quality I feel. Now I can address my squiggles and say "Ah, that line is very good. Yes, I'll have another Jaffa Cake for that line." Etc etc. (It's a carrot and stick system I've perfected over the years, only it's called a "Jaffa or no Jaffa" system). "

Oh dear. Actually, while walking down the stairs yesterday I found myself muttering to my various characters in each painting I passed on the way down. Promising one he was in fact my favourite and we had a special bond, but keeping my voice down so the previous one didn't hear, as I had promised her she was my new special one. Hmm. By the time I reached the bottom step, I was seriously considering the possibility I may in fact be a little bit mad.

I do worry about myself sometimes.