|No one's getting out this way.|
I could care less. It's the snow, freezing temps and wind chills that's the big story here. Cabin fever is becoming a threat. Confined to home by bitter cold not even the puffiest of puffy coats can ward off, all excuses for not painting are eliminated. Nevertheless, I find myself reluctant to return to the studio seriously. I don't know why. The answer is probably percolating somewhere in the back of my mind? So I made soups. I Skyped with Roger Akesson for half an hour about art. And though his words, his break-through art and enthusiasm inspired me, I did the ironing and read the morning away.
|Centerpiece at The Ritz|
What was the matter with that Tom? Did no one notice pregnancies were doing his "most beloved" wife in?
While contraception was frowned on by the Anglican church, certainly abstinence kept under wraps should have occurred to a loving husband who adored his wife and wished to have her with him always. What an idiot! A highly intelligent thinker with a wide range of interests, none of them being his wife and the connection between her failing health and the pregnancies. Sally herself should have made the connection, but obviously producing a brood (and pleasing your husband) was more important than living to raise the brood she did manage to produce. --But then, maybe she got even with that death bed promise thing?