Sunday 28 December 2014

A watercolour and pen sketch of Ramsgate lift from Albion House Hotel and a minor ramble

First experience of Albion House Hotel today, the wife and children had hot chocolate and I had a pot of tea all of which were good. I think this was £2.55 for a hot chocolate and I think it was £1.40 for a pot of tea for me.

In winter it is very difficult to get a seat anywhere from which you can paint or draw a picture of anything quintessentially Ramsgate.

Painting while sharing a table with children is a bit of an acquired art particularly towards the end when their patience starts to run out.

Sorry about the in situ photo the subject seems to have vanished.


Anonymous said...

Terrific Michael, whoever said Ramsgate was full of drab pensioners has been proven wrong here! Did you get a refill of tea?

Anonymous said...

I am a pensioner who fought in two world wars (for the Germans I hasten to add) before settling in Kent to vote UKIP so I find Michael's art comforting on these long cold nights surrounded by immigrants. Especially as there are no black people in his pictures. Or in Kent but that's not the point.

Anonymous said...

Anon 18.30 I offer Exhibit B

In case you cannot see the point again. Dishonesty. No cages for white slaves to be represented. The art perpetuates a propaganda version of history which would have us believe in the myth of collective white guilt for the slave trade.

There are 330,000 Jamaicans today who are descendants of Irish slaves. Which implies that they are related to 50% of the white population of England. Barbadians for a while back in the day there were four white British slaves to every one African slave. Which implies Barbadians today are probably related to over 50% of the white population of England.

Maybe don't try seeing a watercolour in black and white mate ?

Anonymous said...

I quite like not seeing Michael's pictures but having the written description of what they would be like. It's rather soothing and makes a change from the hurly-burly of aimlessly staring out the window myself as I too am getting on in years.

Anonymous said...

You poor chap. Many years ago, while waiting to join the police, I worked as a male auxiliary at a geriatric and incurable hospital. One patient was "Jacko" who wrote poetry with one finger tapping at a typewriter.

He only ever wrote about what he saw out his window. And never repeated himself ever.

The next bed to the lifetime immobilised Jacko (A forceps birth 1908 that went disastrously wrong) was a chap who after being kicked by a horse when he was 19 had suffered all his joints fusing in bone. He could use his arms and did embroidery that was impossible to tell front from back. But his legs were totally solid.

Neither man ever knew the misery of staring aimlessly.

Anonymous said...

But for the damp anorak Michael could be Jacko in a few years.

But a 1908 birth you say so you must be going far down memory lane.....

Anonymous said...

Yes Anon there but for the Grace of God.

What an unpleasant chap you are.