the last day of the long February

April 7, 2025April 7, 2025Leave a comment

Been a little while since I posted, nearly a month in fact, but in my defense I’ve not felt like it. No that’s not really true, I always feel like sharing my drawings and random thoughts, and in this ever-changing world in which we live in, that’s more and more and more important. As much as we are allowed to share our random thoughts. In my defense, I have been very busy, not just in general life and the labours of the world, but also in my sketchbookery. In fact this March was probably my most sketch-tastic March in a while, since maybe the last one. I did draw quite a lot last March now I think about it, when I went to LA and Riverside, and then later to Zion and Bryce Canyon, with some Vegas thrown in. This time I went to San Francisco, Washington DC and New York City, which was not bad. I did a lot of sketching in the last two places, I’ll tell you that. New York is a great city, I have to stop leaving it so long between visits (nine years since the last trip). But before all of that, more of Davis, the usual places, the same old streets. My task is to draw the whole town over and over, and that I will keep doing. Above is another panorama for my Davis-in-landscape-format book that I have been publishing in my head for well over a decade now. If I ever publish it outside of my head, well you should take a look at it, it’s brilliant. Until then, it doesn’t exist, except on these digital pages. I think in this non-existent book the best bit is that I don’t really write much, I just let the drawings do all the talking, to give myself the air of an ‘artist of mystery’. “I bet he is really deep, this artist,” they will say, inaccurately, “or maybe he is really boring and has nothing to say,” their friends who also read the book will say, half accurately. I keep thinking about one review on Amazon (a 1 star review, I’ll have you know) to my last book which came out nine years ago now, which said: “The writing is so long-winded that by the time he gets to the point I have forgotten what he was talking about.” Or words to that effect. In that book I actually edited my writing down really well, it’s not my blog, but my first reaction was “they must know me in real life!” I stopped looking at Amazon user reviews after that. I do like to tell a story though. I decided when I was a kid that I never wanted to be rich, I just wanted to have a lot of stories to tell. Which doesn’t help when someone wants to borrow a tenner. Most stories are boring anyway, so I draw. I think if I just have a book full of pictures it may be missing the personality behind them, but it also may give others the chance to look at them and pretend that the pictures are illustrations of their own life, or could be, and they put their own stories on top of them, stories that have a lot more meaning to them. I always think back to the two books I have by Karen Neale, “London in Landscape” (vols I and II), as inspiration behind the idea of a book just of my two-page spreads, with no stories attached (although she does write some stuff around the edges, it doesn’t get in the way of or alter the story of her very detailed and lively on-location sketches) but there is a glossary at the back with her notes and stories related to each of the sketches. I look at those books quite a bit for inspiration, and to remind me of London at the time I left it behind, the mid-2000s, but I really love the little bits of writing that are in there too. I’ll get around to my currently non-existent Davis book some day. Some day.

Oh by the way, the drawing above is Davis Community Church, as seen from the edge of Central Park on 4th block of C Street. It’s a couple of blocks up from the panorama in the previous post on C Street. There were not a lot of people around. A car did park there for a while, and a man even walked over and said something to me cheerfully, but then it moved before I even noticed it had gone. Another car was parked to my left, a woman sat in there on the phone for a very long time. Someone else came and sat on the bench for a while, pushing a shopping trolley full of bags and clothes, and the local ice-cream van also pulled up for a bit, playing its horror-movie music. The ice-cream van that you see prowling around these parts is not the colourful big-windowed Mr.Whippy type van that we used to chase down the street back when I was a kid. This one is more the type of vehicle that would show up in those kids public information films that your loud-meowing cat would warn you not to go near. It gives me the creeps. Anyway I kept an eye on it in case it tried to lure me away and show me some puppies, and carried on with this unreasonably detailed drawing. After spending so long drawing branches and windows I coloured in some of the trees but then did the rest of the painting at home. I was listening to more Terry Pratchett audiobook. Now it is April and the sneezing has begun, and I am still nowhere near finished with scanning all the sketches from my trip. I’ll add in posts here and there, maybe even with more interesting writing, or not.

In fact, I just realized I already posted this sketch, as the secondary drawing in the previous post. But I have taken the brave decision to keep this one up, because I added to the story of it, and it was a good sketch so I am just giving it some more airtime. Like when you release a single off of an album that has already sold well, except not really anything like that. Hey, it’s a confusing time. Stay tuned for a lot more sketches.

across the C street

March 10, 2025March 10, 2025Leave a comment

Two more from February, both panoramas (that is, two-page spreads in my watercolour Moleskine), both from C street in downtown Davis, albeit a few blocks apart. Above, the symmetrical apartments called ‘McNeil Manor’, near 1st Street, which I have wanted to draw for ages. It was a bright late afternoon and I wanted to draw it from the very middle so I could show the mirror image reverse identical twin look of the two main buildings, with the shadows of the trees breaking up the uniformity. I was happy with how this turned out. I was listening to another Terry Pratchett audiobook, both while drawing onsite (where i did the outlines, many of the details and about a quarter of the colouring) and back at home, where I filled in the rest; now when I see this I can hear Jon Culshaw’s fantastic character voices in my head. I think it was the last one in the City Watch series, Snuff, which one of the only few Discworld books left that I have not read. This week marks ten years since Sir Terry Pratchett died, far too young, and so he is on my mind a lot. I started reading him while I was at school; I have been saving reading those last few, plus some of his non-Discworld books (I heard ‘Nation’ is very good), because while they are still unread it’s like he is still alive. I have been devouring the newer audiobooks lately, all of the City Watch ones first (except ‘Night Watch’, which wasn’t available; I have bought the paperback to read myself, though I read it when it first came out and loved it, almost all of my Pratchett books were left in England when we moved, and are now lost). I don’t know why, but these buildings remind of some flats in Mill Hill, London; they don’t actually look like them, but they remind me of them. The ones where my cousin lived when I was a kid maybe, or other ones that I sometimes pass by on the 221 bus, but these would not look out of place there.

Above, a building I have drawn a lot of times, the Davis Community Church. Sorry it looks so small on thei blog. If you click on it, and the one above, it will take you to my Flickr page where you can see it bigger. I like the view from the side. This was a Friday, end of a long and frankly stressful week, a headache inside a tumble dryer, and scenes like this bring some serenity. I drew much as I could there and then, and coloured in the foreground trees to get them looking the way my eyes see them, but finished the rest at home. February was ending that day, and I was glad of it, though March has not proven to be any improvement. The news of the world continues gloomily onwards. The clock went forward a couple of nights ago, nobody told me, though I wish they could have gone a few years further forward. I don’t wish that, of course, don’t wish your life away. There weren’t many people passing by, the occasional one, maybe a car that would park in front and then leave a little while later.

Kaua’i part 1 – Kalalau Valley, Hanapepe

November 6, 2024November 6, 2024Leave a comment

Last month my wife and I took a long-awaited trip to the Hawaiian island of Kaua’i to celebrate our 20th anniversary. We had meant to go in September but ended up moving it to mid-October, which worked out nicely, as it wasn’t too crowded and the weather was great. Kaua’i is called the garden island, and you can see why. It’s a lot more lush and not as over-developed as some of the other islands, and geologically older. I counted that this is our sixth visit to Hawaii since 2017, and our fourth different island, after Oahu, Maui and the Big Island, all of them quite different. We landed in the evening, driving through the tree tunnel towards our hotel near Poipu Beach, and went straight out for a nice dinner at Keoki’s Paradise, having our favourite, Hula Pie. I got some Hula Pie stickers for my new sketchbook which I was starting on this trip, returning to the classic landscape format Moleskine (but this time with a white cover). On our first day we drove up to what’s called the ‘Grand Canyon of the Pacific’, the Waimea Canyon. For such a small island there is a large amount of natural diversity and geology. We stopped at the Waimea Canyon Lookout and took photos, but there was no way I was going to be able to sketch it, it was enough just to look at it and try to take it all in. We have been to some amazing canyons in recent years and this was up there with them. We drove up further, through twisting tropical roads, towards the Kokee State Park. We knew that we would not get to view the famous and dramatic Napali Coast in the way that a lot of people see it – by boat (too long a trip), or by helicopter (no way man), or by small plan (aint gettin me in no plane sucker!) – and a lot of the hiking trails were closed due to them being a bit unsafe. However, the views of part of the Napali Coast from the elevated Kalalau Lookout were some of the most unbelievable that I have ever seen. We got out of the car, and it just didn’t look real. We stood there a while just looking at it. Or rather I started sketching it, which is the sketch at the top of this post (click on it for a closer view). The turquoise blue of the pacific, the hints of golden sand and red dirt, the verdant volcanic rocks, the jungle of plants and trees, and that one big cloud that was just sitting there all by itself right over the cliff on the left, like an airship waiting to depart. It was the furthest I’d ever been from Burnt Oak, geographically and in every other way too. We took a hike up a jungle road about a mile to another lookout which was supposed to have even more amazing views. When we got there, it had fogged up, the clouds coming off the sea and into the valley blocking out all visibility. The magic view was gone, utterly. So we decided to wait, and see if it would burn off. A few other visitors waited patiently, some giving up, but I was optimistic. This was opti-mist. And slowly we could see some shapes, and even a hole or two of blue, and bit by bit the world opened up again, a little bit like in that show Catchphrase when you see a small part but have to guess at the whole picture. In the end, it looked like this, see below. I wasn’t Not a bad looking place!

IMG_0044(1) - Lowres

We drove back down the long road out of the Canyon, and went to the town of Hanapēpē. It’s a small place with an old Hawaii feel, and I think it’s the inspiration for Lilo and Stitch, though I’ll admit I’ve not seen that film. There are a couple of painted murals of them. They call this the Art Capital of Kaua’i, perhaps for all the little gallery stores. We grabbed a simple but tasty lunch at a friendly place which served from a table in a doorway and sat outside, feeling tired already from our hike and drive. We walked over to a very cool little bookstore called Talk Story Bookstore, which is apparently the westernmost bookshop in the U.S.! They have a cat that rules the shop, and lots of stickers of the boss-cat called ‘Mochi-Celeste’ (based on the previous boss-cat). I spent a small fortune on stickers of all kinds. They sold records too, and comics. It was pretty busy, so I stepped out to sketch the place from across the street.

I walked a bit further down while my wife went into other shops, and I drew a quick one of the little church with the picket fence. I started getting a bit hot so I outlined and drew the rest later. We walked over to the Swinging Bridge, dating back from Hanapēpē’s days as a military town. It was a very warm day, and humid, and we drove back to the hotel to hang out in the pool before dinner in Kōloa (at the ‘westernmost brewery in the world’, Kauai Island Brewing). We were pretty far west, furthest west I have ever been. From here there is only the small island of Ni’ihau, but that is off limits to visitors. After that, you move into tomorrow. Far from home.

morning walks in Burnt Oak

August 2, 2024Leave a comment

And so to the end of my sketches from the recent trip (over a month ago now). I’ve been back in the excruciatingly hot summer of Davis, a record set of July temperatures, and trying to get back into the groove (what’s the difference between being in the groove and in a rut?). The summer is long, and I’ve been wishing to be back in London again. It won’t be long, I hope, but it is nice being there when the sun rises early and sets late, and now there’s finally a new government too after the mid-summer election. England losing the football final was a sour note. Lewis Hamilton winning the British Grand Prix (and British drivers suddenly winning F1 races in general after a long dominance by Max Verstappen) was a nice moment to celebrate. I prefer watching those races early in the morning over here in California anyway, on my couch with a cup of tea. I wasn’t always an early riser, growing up in Burnt Oak I wasn’t anyway. When I travel though I’m usually up first, and I’ll get some time and some nice breakfast with my Mum, those are the times I miss when I have to fly home again. I also like my morning walk around Burnt Oak, where I can see all the things that have changed or stay the same. Here are a couple of sketches from those morning strolls, after we’d returned from France and before we were going back to the US. Above, that is the Annunciation Church on Thirleby Road, though I sketched it from Gervase Road. I always loved this building. This is the main Catholic church for Burnt Oak, and so most of the Catholics I knew would go here, and go to school at St. James’s, or St. Martin’s for the juniors, or at the Annunciation Infant School next door to the church for the very young (my little sister went to those). I’m not a Catholic myself (having been christened at the local C of E church St. Alphage when I was a baby), and I’ve never been religious, so I didn’t have to go to church; I’d get to stay home on Easter when I was a kid and eat my chocolate eggs, but I also had to hoover the floor and dust the shelves, small price for being a heathen. I did go here many times though for one reason or other, weddings, christenings, funerals holy communions. My mum and dad were married here when I was 15 (though I was late, as I went to collect my great aunt). Mostly I spent time here in the community centre, in the Annunciation club upstairs where our local community would drink regularly (we would do the Quiz Night regularly, and my Mum would always win that; we loved a Quiz in those days, and when it was my Mum, my older sister and brother, and me together, we were an unbeatable quiz team in the Irish pubs of our neck of London back in the 90s). I remember watching USA 94 in there, the great moment when Ireland beat Italy and the place erupted. I spent a lot of time in the Annunciation Youth Club as well when I was 16 or 17. My (also non-Catholic) mate Terry and I would go there, hang out with the other kids, play pool, and watch TV; I remember watching the Euro 92 final in there, Denmark beating Germany. It was a good place for local kids, give us something to do, keep them off the streets and out of trouble, not that me and Terry were out getting into trouble, we used to just play football down Montrose, and walk over to Vibratanks the tropical fish shop to look at guppies. The youth club all went on a camping trip to Devon one summer, to the little town of Watchet, looking back at it they were great memories, you don’t think too much about them at the time. I remember telling ghost stories to everyone by the fire on the beach, the Hairy Hands of Dartmoor, the Beast of Exmoor, all those old chestnuts I used to read about. My mate Terry, now in Japan, used to live on Gervase Road so I would be down there all the time. We actually went top school on a different school on Thirleby Road, Goldbeaters, just a short walk from here. As I sketched, being morning there were young kids being walked to school by their mothers just as we had been decades before. I heard quite a few speaking Romanian, Burnt Oak has a big Romanian community now. I thought to myself, I remember the language our parents used to use in the mornings, when we were late for school. All the memories, I spent a good deal of time around here growing up.

And on my second last morning in Burnt Oak, I walked down Abbots Road, cutting past the old allotments and over to Deansbrook Road. I stood in the shade of a tree on the corner of Cressingham, looking out over the little parade of shops. There’s still a newsagent there, I got myself a cold fizzy drink. No Lilt any more, that delicious drink has now been replaced by yet another flavour of Fanta. I used to pick my little sister up from school when she went to St. Martin’s juniors in the Meads nearby. I hardly ever come down this part of Deansbrook any more, except for fish and chips. When I was a kid there was a good Chinese shop here that I’d be sent to pick up the takeaways from. My big sister lived nearby so I would also come into the shops on the way there when I’d walk over, usually on the way to babysit her kids. Of course the main attraction of Deansbrook was the Dassani Off License, which I note is still there. They had a video rental store at the rear, and that’s where we’d go on a Saturday night and pick out whatever action film we’d watch with my dad, and get some Munchies. They also had video games you could rent, so I’d get Nintendo or SNES games to play for a few days, when I couldn’t afford to have the actual thing. On the whole though, I’d often avoid this part of Deansbrook growing up, it was always seen as a bit rougher; even if the Watling was probably rougher, it was a bit closer to home, though geographically it really wasn’t; I lived between the two. You get this sort of thing into your head when you’re a kid, it might just be that the kids over this street were more likely to beat you up than the kids over that street, who might know you or your mates more, it’s all a bit random now looking back. Anyway, I finished this sketch but added in the colours later, on the plan back to California.

We flew back next day, into the long Davis summer, fiscal close, triple digits, and scanning the travel sketches, and a huge desire to just go back to London again. A day will come when I can’t go back as much, and I’m always wanting to get as much of it as I can until then, and bring my sketchbook to watch it as it keeps on changing.

rainy days in the south of france

July 26, 2024July 25, 20242 Comments

Provence is usually sunnier than this. I woke up one morning for my usual early sketch and pain-au-chocolat run, to the sound of heavy rain against the cobbles. We were heading to Nice that morning, but with this storm rolling over it looked like the Cote wasn’t going to be as Azur as we’d hoped. We get enough sunshine in California. Still a little bit of rain didn’t deter me. I remember that it poured down the last time I’d been in Aix-en-Provence, a torrential downpour that nearly caused me to miss my TGV to Strasbourg. Doesn;t stop me from sketching. I walked over to Place Richelme, where the mornings are alive with colourful fruit and veg stalls before being whisked away by lunchtime for the cafes. It’s one of our favourite squares in Aix, and I found a dry doorway to stand in and draw, and listen. People passed by me on their way to work in the building, each one with a pleasant “bonjour” to me on the way, this is how they do it in France, people say “bonjour” to each other, and I like it. Looking across the Place, I remembered there was a pizza stand on the other side years ago where you get big slices of Neapolitan style pizza very cheap, the ones so big you fold them to eat them, and we’d get those at night after a couple of drinks at the nearby bar Le Brigand, we had many evenings sat outside there. When I first met my wife we went there with some friends and I think I surprised her by having three conversations at once, one in French, one in English, one in German, with people I knew around us. I would struggle to have one conversation in English nowadays. Le Brigand is still there, unchanged. There was another place nearby called Happy Days, which is now gone. I would sing the theme tune to Happy Days as we passed, but in French, and deliberately bad French for comic effect. I hummed that to myself as I sketched the market. I listened out to the market people greeting each other, the thick Provençal accent I once heard described as ‘soupy’, or “le Parlé de Chez Nous” as my old barber would call it. “Dang dang dang,” they would say, meaning “Wait wait wait” (“Attends attends attends”), and “ah put-aing!” when they swore. “Vous dessinez bieng!” one man said to me as he looked over my sketch, I smiled in thanks. I love listening out for that southern accent. I drew as much as I could, and dashed off to get breakfast.

This church tower rises above the narrow and busy Rue Espariat, which sneaks uphill through the old centre-ville. This street always brings me right back to the early days in Aix, a sit was easy to get lost but here you knew where you where, more or less, and it is always a short hop over to the wide Cours Mirabeau. On this day, I had left my family at the shops to go and sketch, but no sooner did the sketchbook come out then so did that warm dusty rain, turning the air as soupy as the accent. I’m really doubling down on that word ‘soupy’. I still wanted to draw, so I stood tight against the wall and did my best. I had to go and sit down somewhere to add colour and shading, the raindrops were starting to glomp onto the page. I walked down to the Place des Augustins to a familiar old pub.

I do wonder when I write these posts, show these sketches, who is reading, is it anyone I know? Anyone that I knew from Aix, that has stumbled across all of this? If so, hello there, bonjour, I hope you’re doing well. My memories of people have faded a lot over the years, names and even faces, , though I still have a lot of old photos, and my year in Aix was during the time of physical photos that you had to get developed at a shop, then keep in a box in a cupboard, unseen. Anyway I went into O’Sullivan’s, a pub we all used to meet up in back in the old days, and it’s unchanged. I did last come here on that trip nine years ago and sketched the bar, just as I had done once in 2003, though much better. I didn’t want to sketch the bar this time, I just sat with a beer outside under the dry eaves, and I sketched a couple of people sat evading the rain opposite me. I remembered the street opposite, there was a little kebab shop I think, where my flatmate Emma and I would sometimes run into a local guy we knew called Corentin who played a djembe drum. He was a sweet guy, I remember he liked to climb trees. It was in that very little square that my future wife and I had our actual first date, eating tapas at a little restaurant across from me. We had met at my birthday party a few days before, on a much rainier night than this.

It was time to go and have dinner, but before meeting up with the family I had one more sketch, a fountain that I definitely also drew back in 2003, the one on the corner of Cours Sextius. I used to pass it on my way to visit my future wife, so it always reminds me of that walk. Cours Sextius is another tree lined boulevard, busy with traffic, well shaded, and I remember there was a club there called the Bistrot Aixois which I didn’t really like much, very popular with the American frat boys spending their semester abroad in France. I had never heard the term ‘frat boy’ before coming to Aix, an American guy I knew brought me to a party held by some frat boys. I remember having a lengthy discussion with one guy about how Robert De Niro is not actually a good actor, he just plays Robert de Niro all the time. There were a lot of American students in Aix, for many it was their first time outside of the US, and it’s not a bad place. I got to know a lot of art students while I was there, though I was only just starting to get back to drawing myself. And of course I met my wife, from California, and that’s how I am now living in Davis of course. This was a short visit to Aix, it was nice to see how the place is doing, though we’ve come a very long way since then. It was time to leave for Nice. Until next time Aix, jusque’à la prochaine fois.

among the stones in hampstead and highgate

July 15, 2024July 15, 2024Leave a comment

I think I sought out quieter spots on this London trip, I wasn’t really looking for the busy crowds and bustle of the city, it’s been too stressful a year for that. I found myself in Hampstead a few times, only a few stops down the Northern Line from Burnt Oak, but a world away in how it looks. It’s a bit nice round there. We went down one afternoon to walk about a bit, before I would be meeting up with a friend in the evening for dinner. I had a bit of time to myself to go and do some sketching, and I stood on Fitzjohn’s Avenue and sketched this weathered old post box (below), which bore the royal cipher of King Edward VII, so it’s quite old. I love old pillar boxes. I saw one from Queen Victoria’s reign on Hampstead High Street, although it was kept as a relic and was not in actual use (despite being opposite the post office). My brother called me up, and as I spoke to him I found myself wandering down old streets I had never been to, not really paying much attention to where I was going. I found myself at the Parish Church of St. John at Hampstead, an impressive old church with an adjacent burial ground, rows of gravestones poking out of long grass. It was quite peaceful, and I do like a graveyard. Real England is old brick and stone and greenery. Local ladies walked their small dogs about, and I sketched this scene above. I felt it had to be in pencil. If I still lived in London I would probably spend a lot more time sketching graveyards.

On a different day, I came through Hampstead to pick up some photos I had put in to Snappy Snaps on Hampstead High Street a few days before to be developed. That’s right, an actual roll of film. I haven’t developed a roll of film in nearly 20 years, and in fact I still have some rolls of undeveloped film that I brought with me when I emigrated to America, memories still waiting to jump out at me from the past. Well this roll of film was from just the past few months. A friend got me a basic film camera for Christmas, and so I bought some film (not cheap any more like the old days!) and was taking pictures on some of our recent travels. I maybe got the film wrong (it was good quality and cost me enough), but the photos turned out terrible. Like almost unanimously awful. The ones in Zion Canyon for example were just big dark masses. It wasn’t cheap to develop either, but there you go. Fun experiment, I suppose, but I’ll stick to digital, and sketching. My son was using the film camera on our Europe trip this time, so we will see how they turn out. Better than mine, I hope. Anyway, on my way back to the tube, after stopping in Cass Arts to pick up yet another sketchbook (I never seem to not need sketchbooks), I stopped in Flask Walk to draw. The sketch is below. I like Flask Walk, it’s narrow and full of interesting little shops. I like the Flask pub, I usually pop in there when I’m back in London. When my son was little, I took him ghost hunting there, because it is supposed to be one of those haunted pubs London has so many of. I like all the little antique shops, though I’m not the sort of person who shops at antique shops. I stood nearby and drew the view looking down, trying to catch some of the things people were saying to each other, like the older woman saying “bye darling! bye darling!” to her friend. I got asked by someone passing by if they could take my photo while sketching. I said of course (I get that occasionally when I’m in London, I think it must be the way I hold my sketchbook). They had a nice digital camera; I said I had tried taking photos with a film camera but just got them developed and they had turned out really bad, so I will be sticking to the sketchbook in future. I asked if they drew and they said they did but not much, and would like to do more, so I gave them the information about Urban Sketchers London, and said they should join them on their regular sketchwalks. If you are interested, check out their calendar for the rest of 2024 at the USk London website. When I was done with my sketch, it was time to head home.

But I have a couple of other sketches to show from the area. On a different day, we all came back down to Hampstead to look around before taking a walk across Hampstead Heath. I love Hampstead Heath, it;s easy to get lost along its tree covered paths. I have a photo of my holding my son by the ponds when he was only four months old, he’s sixteen now, so we took the same one, though I wasn’t carrying him this time. As we rested on top of the Heath, looking towards Highgate Village, I did a quick small paint sketch, below. It’s hard to imagine, we lived over there before moving out to California. It was a bit of a walk, but we’d sometimes come over this way on a Sunday, enjoying the peaceful English day. We lived on Hornsey Lane, and I still love that area. We went over there on of our first days back, it had been so many years. In another universe, if we had not moved to the US, we might be over there still, my son might have grown up there. We joked about that; the truth is, working for universities which don’t pay much in England, and with the extortionate cost of living in London, there’s no way we could have afforded a bigger place in Highgate unless we got very lucky, and would probably have moved our further, or back up to Burnt Oak, or just moved to California anyway. You can’t see the multiverse. There are a lot more hills here than in Davis. We did explore Crouch End again though, I miss that neighbourhood so much, and Highate Village, and Waterlow Park. We walked down our old street and took a photo outside the house where we rented a flat, those horrible old windows were unmistakable (except they were mistakable, because we were stood outside the wrong house; our old one was a couple of doors down, so we took a photo outside that one instead).

After the walk across the Heath, the final destination beckoned: Highgate Cemetery. That is the literal final destination for many people, from your Karl Marxes, your Douglas Adamses, your Jeremy Beadles, even your Eric Hobsbawns, your Malcolm McLarens. We only walked about the East side; I’ve never been to the West side, some day I will, but I notice that David Devant (the magician after whom one of my favourite bands is named) is buried there, as is Prof. Lisa Jardine, who I actually knew from my days as a drama student at Queen Mary, and Michael Faraday, one of my favourite scientists. George Michael is in the West side too; he was a local lad from near where I grew up, and he also lived in Hampstead in his later years, and speaking of the Snappy Snaps on Hampstead High Street, that was, er, the place where he crashed his car back in 2010. Anyway, we just looked around the East side, found the big Karl Marx, found a few other names I was looking for, talked about vampires, and then went down to the village at Parliament Hill for an overpriced pub lunch. Anyway, some nice times spent in Hampstead and Highgate, still some of my favourite parts of London.

piccadilly to tower hill

July 31, 2023July 31, 2023Leave a comment

I didn’t do a lot of London sketching on the first few days of our trip, just what I could get in quick moments. The one above was drawn while waiting for my wife, I was outside Waterstones in Piccadilly (in the building which used to be Simpson, Piccadilly, the old department store which was the inspiration for the TV show Are You Being Served). Looking towards Piccadilly Circus. It was the sky that interested me.

We walked into Mayfair and up towards Savile Row. It’s incredible, I’ve never actually been up Savile Row. I explored London for years but for some reason Mayfair a lot less so, though I would give open-top bus tours round a lot of the fancy squares and high-end streets, twenty-odd years ago. I had it in my head that Savile Row was further up, on the other side of Oxford Street somewhere, but of course it’s just a block off Regent Street. I do love that even in London I can be surprised and find places I’d not really been to before. The only place on Savile Row I was interested in seeing of course was #3, now an Abercrombie and Fitch, but that was once the HQ of the Beatles’ Apple Corps, and where they played that concert on the roof in January 1969. Watch ‘Get Back’, it’s my favourite thing ever (right up there with Star Wars and The Dark Crystal). There’s a blue plaque to commemorate the historic event, and so I put that in my sketchbook.

We were on our way to take a London Walk, over by St.Paul’s. It was the walk called “Old London”, and was a two-hour-plus stroll through ancient streets in the City, ending up at Tower Hill. It was a hot day, but our guide was excellent and she took us along streets I hadn’t explored in years, or didn’t even know about (and I have given walking tours in this part of London myself years ago). See https://www.walks.com/ for details on all their walks, given by accredited blue-badge guides, they are great and know a lot more than me. I was remembering some of the old stuff I used to know, but was fascinated by the stories. I did one sketch of St. Vedast-Alias-Foster, one of the many Christopher Wren churches, while we waited.

When it was over my wife got the tube back home while I stayed out a bit longer to do some sketching before dinner. I decided to draw the Tower, with that big sundial thing in the foreground. I was pretty tired though, my heart wasn’t really in it, so I left it as it was and got on the District Line. We were off to Scotland next day.

back in the sac

April 19, 2023April 19, 2023Leave a comment

It’s been a little while since I sketched Midtown Sacramento. My son’s soccer team (the one I used to coach but stepped down from last year because I was knackered) had a tournament in Natomas (I think it was Natomas, the places all blend together some days) but we only stayed for the first game, so afterwards I was dropped off in midtown Sac so I could go to the art store and draw some of the old buildings around there. I started off by drawing this big old Victorian on the corner of I and 27th, a fantastic well-kept old house. There are plenty of old interesting old buildings in that neighbourhood. I went to the university art store, and walked down to Dessert Diner for a delicious hot chocolate and cake (I’ve not been there in years, it’s fantastic). I also found a little record shop that I’ve not been to before, Rocket Records, that I was going to sketch but maybe another time. Last time I sketched a midtown record shop (The Beat), it closed down. I then had lunch at one restaurant/bar by the train tracks which served barbecue food; I won’t say what the place was called, but the food was utterly gross and made me feel sick. I got barbecued chicken with mac and cheese, and it was so bad, for one thing I’m not sure the chicken was cooked too well but it was so drenched in a smoky, woody stench that it made me gag. The mac and cheese may as well have been a rain mac, it had no flavour. So I quit that place and left, the taste being in my mouth for hours afterwards. I did one more sketch though, of the St.Francis of Assisi church which is over near Fort Sutter.

Interestingly enough, the first time I drew this building was sixteen years ago to the day from when I drew it on February 25th. I remember that day. My wife had told me about a record shop – the aforementioned ‘The Beat’, now long gone – so I went and spent a lot of time there, and wandered midtown with my beloved WH Smith sketchbook looking for places to draw. This was one of my favourite of my early California sketches, back at the start of all this.

st pancreas

August 13, 2022August 12, 2022Leave a comment

I had a few nice family days in London, went to my older brother’s wedding, met my younger sister’s baby for the first time, ate some lovely breakfasts after discovering that Richmond Irish Sausages now come in a chicken sausage variety. Yes please guv. I must point out, I gave up eating red meats (beef, pork, lamb) when I was 12, and one of the only things I regretted giving up were the Richmond Irish Sausages. I bloody loved them. But they had to go. So when I was in Asda and saw that they had a chicken variety, well, that was discovery of the century. They were so good. Anyway, breakfasts aside, I took another day out for some London sketching, and went down to St Pancras. I was headed towards Classic Football Shirts, always a destination when I come back, but now in a new location near Aldwych. Outside Kings Cross, I had the most delicious lime and coconut doughnut (wasn’t cheap, was well worth it though), and then draw the road between Kings Cross and St Pancras, towards the latter’s famous gothic station facade. The sky was fairly ominous; we would have lots of rain later, but this is England, where the weather can go either way, but rain is never off the table. So I had to paint the sky. Across the street, unseen in this (unfinished) sketch, there was a queue of people stretching almost a mile long. I asked a station worker who was managing the line what it was for. “Eurostar!” he said. Delays caused by staff shortages, too many people travelling, the Jubilee, all sorts of things. I was worried, because I was going to be taking the Eurostar myself to Lille just a few days later on Saturday. How long were these people in line? “Three hours at least,” he said, clearly having a miserable day at work; he had my sympathies. I asked what time he advised I come for my 10:30am train on Saturday. “Jubilee weekend? When the station opens, I’d say, if you are lucky.” That would be at 5:00am. Right. Oh well, I thought, I’m glad I asked. I hope his day got better, he was very helpful. So I’d have to show up five and a half hours before my train? Phew. My ticket said to arrive 90 minutes early. I’d have to leave Burnt Oak at what, 4:30am? Would there even be a tube? I’d have to get the night bus, and we all know how I feel about those. Doesn’t feel right if I’m not eating cheap greasy fried chicken, and wake up at the wrong stop. Tant pis, as they say in France. If I end up not getting to France, I’ll get more time to enjoy the Jubilee. I was determined to get that train.

The main reason I’d stopped at St Pancras was because I wanted to visit St Pancras Old Church. I’ve never been there before, but had seen pictures of the graveyard and thought, I should sketch there next time I’m in London. So I walked up to find the church, and a man seated just inside the gates asked if I needed any help. He told me that unfortunately the church and the grounds were all closed for an event for the next few days (Jubilee related? Not sure but probably) which was a bit disappointing, but there’s a lot of London to draw so I wasn’t too miffed, there’s always next time. I did try to draw the church from outside the fence, looking up, but to be honest it was a weird angle and I wasn’t super comfortable, so I gave up and headed for the tube.

I’ll post the rets of the day’s sketches next time, but wanted to keep on the St. Pancras theme by posting the next sketch which is actually page 1 of the following sketchbook (landscape sketchbook #43 if you are following along; check out petescully.com/sketchbooks for the full list!). So Saturday came, the news was all about travel chaos at the airports and stations, and did I leave at 4:30am? No I did not. I left at about 7:00am, thinking you know what, I’m not daft. When I got there, instead of desperate queues and confusion, the hall was empty and orderly, and there was a sign for each scheduled Eurostar’s line to start, with my one not opening for a good hour and a half. Plenty of time to just hang about, and do what? What would I possibly do with all my time? So outside I went and sketched St. Pancras Station again, from a bit closer up. This is a very detailed station that requires a bit more time a touch of patience and a lot of good eyesight, and out of those, two out of three ain’t bad. I wasn’t right on the street level so nobody bothered me, and I was done with time to still wander about the shops and get a snack before my journey to Lille. Travel lucky again.

You know I always wondered who St. Pancras actually was. We used to see that name on the Underground map when we were kids and laugh, because it sounded like ‘pancreas’, and since we had no idea what body part the pancreas was, we giggled because it was probably a rude part. The Underground map is actually full of possible naughty double-entendres, none of which I would have understood when I was nine, but still sniggered at “St. Pancreas”. Apparently St. Pancras was from Phrygia but moved to Rome and was beheaded when he was only 14, just for being a christian. To paraphrase Stewart Lee, “These days mate,” Roman chariot taxi drivers used to say, “they arrest you, lock you up and chop your head off just for saying you’re a christian.” This was in fourth century Rome, under the persecution of Diocletian, so they totally did, even though he was only fourteen. So now Pancras is the saint of children. And years later, children in London (such as I) would laugh because his name sounded a bit like a rude part of the body that isn’t even rude. It’s a funny old world.

Next up, more London sketches (with more completely sensible history). I’ll leave you with a joke. “‘Scuse me mate, how do you get Kings Cross?” “Forget their birthdays. Hahaha.”

C-3PO has let himself go

February 17, 20212 Comments

Here’s a quick sketch I did on a lunchtime from work (in the at-home office) on Covell Boulevard, north Davis. It’s Calvary Chapel on the corner of Oak Street, and I have drawn this building before, quite a long time ago now, back in 2012 when I first moved to north Davis (after six and a half years in south Davis). Back then, there was a funny looking periscope thing on the roof, one of those architectural details that bring light down into the building. That has gone now. Not gone entirely though, it’s been moved next to the building (on the other side of this, unseen; I should go and draw it really). The 2012 sketch is below. As you can see it’s a different colour now. Those trees behind the building didn’t just sprout up in that time, at least I don’t think they did, I probably just left them out. Not the Cypress trees in front, they were there. Of course what you are probably wondering about is the foreground object, a wonky electrical box on my side of Covell. It really was quite wonky, not much exaggeration there. It looks like a drunken robot, on the walk of shame in the early morning when the sun’s coming up. Come on, we’ve all been there. It looks like it’s just stumbled off the night bus having gone halfway across London in the wrong direction because it missed its stop. Several times. Like, London is massive and the night buses at Trafalgar Square when it’s freezing cold, sometimes you jsut jump on the first one that looks about right, just to get warm, and suddenly you’re in like Enfield or Chingford. Yeah I know this is really specific now, but we’ve all been there, we’ve all done it. One time it was like Queens Park or Harlesden, or somewhere pretty scary looking at 3am and you just jump on the next bus outta there, wherever it was going, and back to sleep. The 90s was an age of exploration, and sleep.