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After all the fuss and bother with the cover things have now gone quiet again. The cover arrived and has been accepted (so far, but still feel quite nervous as the other two were accepted too and later rejected). I have been paid, I think, and have moved on to other work so now wait to see how the type is designed, both throughout the book and on the cover.
After a few days of recovery, during which I hung an exhibition while I should have been resting and did some owl paintings that I have waited a year to do, went for a walk with
Joanna Lumley and the cats and painted in the refectory, all of which when I should have been resting, it is now time to move on to the next book, The Ice Bear, with Frances Lincoln.
I have to go to
Hay Festival where I am doing a session with children and a masterclass, both of which are sold out ( but will be at Bath Festival in Sept and also Cheltenham in October).
Two roughs have been submitted to the MBF for their Christmas card and I nervously wait for their response.
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Meanwhile, today I had a chance encounter with a woman that cheered my soul. She and her husband called from the Refectory because they wanted to buy a print. I invited them up to the house, only then realizing the filth and chaos the house was in! They came and saw my prints and the studio. ( I seldom invite people in as my work place is also my home and the kids home and we like to be private.)
She told me a story about
The Barefoot Book of Classic Poems. A story that made me cry but also gladdened my heart.
She had worked in a place for very difficult and troubled children in London. Among the children she knew was a five year old who had been so badly abused and traumatized by his mother that he barely spoke, couldn't read or write and was so difficult. ( People can be cruel but God alone knows what his mother went through also). He would take the Barefoot Book of Classic Poems and sit and look and look and look at the paintings and then he would tell the people caring for him all about the stories behind the pictures.
Who wouldn't cry to hear such a story.
There are many times that I have felt like giving up illustrating and just painting. Stories like this keep me tangled up tight with books.