We are off on a big expedition to Oxford this week; we haven't had a day in town for years. It's a bit of a palaver, with our limited rural bus service (which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Stagecoach advert we saw on TV last week). Although thank God we have one at all (she said, hastily crossing fingers). Like Cindrella - but without the frock - one has to return at a certain time before the Sun goes down, (eg when the last join-up 6 o'clock bus leaves) or fork out for an expensive taxi home. However it can't be avoided: I have frames/mounts to pick up. One has been custom made for Party Food -
- which will be hung (appropriately) in the client's dining room - and smaller ones for forthcoming paintings I have been itching to do. So I'm doing a lot of Moleskine scribbling, as until I actually have the frames and mounts in front of me I can't start planning what size the artworks will be. And I have a 'bread and butter ' job to continue, which I must knuckle down to. Not as much fun as this chap - 
Frankly the idea of a day in town scares the bejabers out of me, I might just go and hide in the Ashmolean.
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