Thursday, 17 December 2009
Friday, 27 November 2009
He likes clotted cream and country walks. If he could have his own way he’d move out of town, buy a piece of land and do permaculture. But he’s only read books on the subject and done a week’s course on a farm where he stayed in a yurt and was taught basket weaving and digging.
He likes wellies and women in knitted jumpers, though he keeps this to himself.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
He sits by the fire drinking copious amounts of tea, mumbling to himself whilst the rain drips, drips, drips...
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
His favourite tune goes something like ha ha ha hee hee hee sung with a guttural thump and scrape cos he eats too much burnt toast. It has that kind of effect on the throat if eaten too quickly and without margarine. He likes the crunch so he can pretend he’s eating a crustacean from a million years ago. It’s the kind of fantasy he has whilst eating breakfast at 5am before dawn’s grey glow.
When he’s older he sees himself as having a nippy black car that he can squeal around corners in trying to scare cats and kids. He’s quite indiscriminate as to which. Kids are an easier target though when dawdling to school with music welded to their ears, backpacks on. They are an especially easy target when their shoes have those flashing red lights & their bags fluorescent strips. Nice! He thinks to himself, imagining ramming his foot hard down on the accelerator.
He’s forgotten who his parents are. That was such a long time ago, longer than a giant’s mind span. Big brains & dawdling careful thoughts & a sense of time stretching to the moon and stars, that’s what he has. And a smile that’d never melt a woman’s heart; more likely send em through the nearest door they could bolt briskly behind.
it's just the way he is..., originally uploaded by artbysara.
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Monday, 21 September 2009
It's just one of those days...she's had trouble with the neighbours... & her mum. They disagree on just about everything. Especially marmalade & eggs...& politics & how long a skirt should be & how to make the best chocolate cake.
Not that this lass does a lot of baking...she’s out on the town too much to cope with ounces & whisks, oven temperatures & cooling racks.
She’d much rather be sat skim-reading the paper whilst forgetting to text a mate about where they’re gonna meet before the club to get cash out at the cash machine so she doesn’t have to rely on the generosity of random strangers when it comes to beer...or random blokes to be more precise.
But, as you can see, it’s been a day of complications which if I had the time I’d divulge the details of, I would, but I don’t as my dog needs walkin...well, dawdling, as he’s the world’s slowest greyhound.
Friday, 18 September 2009
Thursday, 3 September 2009
This is how the editorial folk summed up artbysara:
I love scary women & men who look like they’ve just stepped out of some weird ancient fairytale & landed in this day & age with its mobile phones, street scenes, slang & woes. They’re a bit confused, a bit mouthy, at times timid, lost, pissed off...But that’s just the way life is...know what I mean?
Monday, 17 August 2009
one morning she was shuffling down the road in her scuffed up shoes singing rather badly to the tunes blasting into her ears when a huge crow swooped down, sat on her head and started pecking at her eyes...
marmalade screamed and screamed and ran and ran til she ran out of breath and fell over and the silky crow sat on her shouder cawing with an eerie fatalistic croak. oh my god she thought, i'm done for!
then it spread out it's huge wings and enveloped marmalade in one massive swish and the girl with the red knotted hair disappeared...
Thursday, 13 August 2009
Debs has just finished with her bloke so has some spare time on her hands. You could say she’s been getting a bit morose, dwelling too much on the state of the planet with its wars and conflicts and the fact we’re heading towards environmental oblivion.
And she has no one to cuddle up to now, poor luv…But at least she has a friend like Amber who can’t really be arsed with all the naval gazing but does her best, though it goes without saying she’d much rather be sat down the pub.
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Sometimes it can take a while to get going in the morning, like til midday even. Well, this bloke has that kind of a feeling most of the time. If I was going to be critical I’d tell him to get off his backside & go & do some exercise to get those endorphins moving around his body. It might perk him up a bit. But he likes to wallow in the inanity of his life so much so that it has become his main preoccupation, nay excuse, for inactivity. Best steer clear.
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Just one of those days...
She mislaid the scrap paper scrawled with the details as to when she's meeting Jim, a keen angler and Formula 1 fanatic she has nothing in common with.
Just as well really.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
To treat your dog well you must give him a comfortable bed to sleep in, make sure he gets plenty of fresh air, & long country walks. If you leave him couped up at home whilst at work in the office you may return home to find your sofa in shreds as well as your favourite pair of pink fluffy slippers. This would be most unfortunate.
So my advice would be to give up your job, buy a van & travel around Europe playing the fiddle whilst he howls & tourists chuck coins into your hat. Now what an adventure that'd be!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Over 200 illustrations collected together in two books called Sing & Stuff! If you'd like to purchase a book or two they are available from my website at peachweb.
I know for sure the finicky folk of Sing & Stuff would love to be given a home by you...they are a nosey lot tho & may cause a little mischief around the house, after all piskey is amongst the pages, the well known & notoriously naughty character from folk lore who still lurks beneath the stairs, in the darkest corner & in the garden shed...You have been warned!
Sunday, 3 May 2009
Friday, 17 April 2009
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Thursday, 12 March 2009
Merbabe is the Mermaid of Zennor babified. She thought she'd come onland for a bit of fun, maybe even seduce a bloke whilst he's too drunk to see her tail hidden beneath her pink & orange sarong. By the way, you can always tell a mermaid by her wet hem. Be warned.
Dogman is a jack-the-lad, the Beast of Bodmin down from the moor & on holiday. He's in St Ives eyeing up the babes, enjoying the ale & pretending he can surf, but he can't. He's such a slacker....except when it comes to food. He can gobble up old grandmas & children whole.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Betty Stoggs has had a real ale named after her, that's how famous she's become. But few of the punters at the bar know her true story...and probably wouldn't want to if they had an inkling as to what it was about. See, Betty married big burly Jan the Mounster in the olden days and they had a baby.
But whilst Jan was out at work, Betty began to slacken when it came to doing the housework and cooking. Her baby was dressed in rags and her bread was like concrete. And to make matters worse she got in with the gin woman who went from door to door selling more than threads and material.
See, the fairies had taken the child but dawn had come before they had a chance to whisk him away to the otherworld, so they'd left him til the evening when they would return.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Friday, 27 February 2009
And so the surfboard by his side never skims a wave but is a prop...literally, when he’s beered up. But then again thank God he doesn’t go for a dip as there’s nowt worse than the wet dog smell is there?
So, here he is on the beach eyeing up the babes, pretending he can surf, swigging back the ale, pink tongue licking his glistening, pointy teeth.
Finally calming down he told her about how he’d been chasing a hare that led him to a grove and there he saw a devil dancing with witches around a fire, and Betty of the mill was amongst them! The devil sang,
Monday, 23 February 2009
Friday, 20 February 2009
As I got up from the pub bench he pulled me back and tickled my ear with his whiskers and put a paw around my waist. His nose was quivering. I looked around hoping no one had seen this embrace, then looked him in the eye and said, ‘No way!’
With that he jumped up and over the bench, a tear glinting on his face. 'But it's not my fault i was born this way!', he cried and began to tell me the story of his life.
I'd best stop here as I swore his secret I'd keep but, blimey, what a can of worms it was, that night at the pub by the dock where the seagulls screech.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
He was gruff as the gales that batter the Land's End peninsular and vicious with it. He wasn't too nice to his wife either and fell in love with the chaste St Agnes, patron saint of Celtic Cornwall.
Being a nun she just wasn't into the whole romance thing, especially with a married giant. But Bolster continued to woo her with dead cows and by blowing the morning mists away.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
More time passed and Tom, finding that his sow had eaten and destroyed more than she was worth and all the time getting leaner, fastened a rope to her leg and started early one Thursday morning for market, determined to sell her for anything he might be offered.