Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Sunday, 27 November 2016
Mad hair sells paintings?
This time we have merchandise. Grandson has had these t-shirts printed up with Granma's (that was the name of the boat that Castro invaded Cuba in) paintings on the back, and her signature on the front. Three different images as a limted edition of 100, at £33 each.
Today I haul in all the paintings, wine, glasses, banners, tools, etc. etc. and H.I. will spend a couple of hours deciding on where they are going. We cannot get in until 7.00pm, so it is going to be a long night. I am going to miss The Archers. I am going to miss The Archers all week, as we close the show at 7.00 every evening. I am going to miss The Archers Omnibus as well, because I will be hauling all the unsold stuff back again on Sunday. Let's hope there is nothing left to haul back.
I will not be going to the pub for a whole week, and I am wondering if I will survive. I will probably have no time to do any blogging after today, so I wonder if you are going to survive.
For a week or two now, I have been building up the courage to wash and cut my hair, ready for the big night. H.I. always tells me not to cut it too short, because I look like Caligula when it is too short, and that does not sell paintings. I used to look like one of the more humane Roman Emperors, but then my true personality could hide behind a youthful visage no longer.
A combination of a bad cold and a series of hangovers in trying to medicate it has made me reluctant to have my head upside-down over the bath for ten mimutes, so I have been putting it off.
Then I walked into the pub yesterday and a young barmaid looked at me for a while and said, "Hmm. Long hair. It looks good."
On my way there, a drunk/mad woman shouted from about 100 yards distant, "What a lovely head of hair you've got!!!"
A couple of years previously, a similar woman stopped me in the street and said, "You're Brian May, aren't you?" She would not accept that I was not him and I didn't have a guitar to hand to prove it, so I went straight home and cut my hair.
I told H.I. what the barmaid had said, and she said, "There you are. Leave it as it is."
Oh well, it's her exhibition, but I cannot shake off the suspicion that everyone is bored right now and is having a laugh at my expense. We could all do with one.