Arty farty time ...

2 September

We were late up this morning, as per usual, and by the time we did get up it was far too late to go off anywhere. As it was, we hadn’t planned on going anywhere, but I did think I might go a ride and have a look at the market. I’m pleased I didn’t now seeing it’s raining again, the fine, penetrating rain that soaks you very quickly. So we have sat and watched some of our recorded programmes on telly.

Two of them were part of the Fake or Fortune show. One was about a painting by what it was hoped was a master piece by the Russian painter Chagall. It all seemed to fall apart when an analysis of the pigments showed it be painted after the 1930s. That seems fair enough to me but they still sent the painting off to Paris for verification. The result came back saying it is was a fake – but they refused to send it back and it would be destroyed. If the owner appealed they would take the issue to court. It seems that is where I do have great problems on the issue.

I’m not interested in France or Frenchmen in any way, shape or form! And this issue over that painting is a point in question. What gives them the right to say that someone can destroy the property of another person, even another French person without some sort of compensation somewhere? It seems to me that they are allowed in law to ride rough-shod over anyone they want, whenever they want. Nope, it’s not on!

The second show was about a Vuillard painting bought for £11,000. It’s part of a set of three that the artist painted for part of the décor of a café in Paris. There’s a larger oval work that is in private hands but stored in and underground warehouse somewhere. While he was painting that one he also painted two smaller oval paintings, the show was about the one of these. It took an institute in Paris ten weeks to decide the work was a genuine Vuillard painting. Great news for the owner of course, now the hunt in one for the second one, which was sold on Ebay a few years ago.

Who amongst us doesn’t wish they could find a treasure at a car-boot sale or a jumble sale somewhere that turns out to be a genuine master piece of art? I know I do. But there again … what do you make of this … 

This little lady broke my uncle’s big toe on the beach at Blackpool one Sunday. We’ve always know it as The Indian Lady.

Here’s the story – Uncle Nut (no idea here he got the name from, his real name was George), was dart player in a local pub team here in town. Every year they went to Blackpool for a weekend booze-up. On the Sunday they were taking a last bare-foot walk alone the beach and Nut saw a large pile of sand and he ran up to it and gave it a good kick. After that he was hopping around and cursing. One of his mates picked the little lady and he brought it home for his mother. We are the custodians of it now.

The only time it has been valued was when our son Tom took it to get one. He came back with it saying, ‘One bloke said a fiver and another one said worthless.’ I did wonder whether they were trying it on cos he was kid though. But who knows; we may be owners of a valuable piece of art already.  One can but dream … … …

Today’s photo then … 

Some of the crowd at WMSP.

Today’s funny …

Some 15 year old girlfriends decided to meet for dinner. They discussed where to eat and finally agreed on McDonald's next to the Sea Side Restaurant because they only had $6.50 between them and Bobby Bruce, the cute boy in science class, lived on that street.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 25-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because it had free snacks, there was no cover charge, the beer was cheap, the band was good and there were lots of cute guys.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 35-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because the combos were good, it was near the gym and if they went late enough, there wouldn't be many whiny little kids.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 45-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because the martinis were big and the waiters wore tight pants and had nice buns.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 55-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because the prices were reasonable, it had windows which opened (in case of hot flashes), the wine list was good and fish was good for their cholesterol.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 65-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because they had an Early Bird Special and the lighting was good.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 75-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because the food wasn't too spicy and it was handicapped accessible.

10 years later, the same girlfriends, now 85-year-olds, discussed where to meet for dinner. Finally they agreed to meet at the Sea Side Restaurant because they'd never been there before.