Love those mandalas, Diane! And your little Prima Donna is a picture of loveliness too-too.
I had a wonderful weekend also, with a long overdue trip to my native Scotland to spend some very precious time with my four daughters. The youngest (aged 9) was with me throughout, as we raced around between Edinburgh, Dundee and Perth to see her big sisters, with at one glorious point all five of us sitting down for a pub lunch together (plus two of the boyfriends, but my girls have chosen well, so no knuckle-draggers).
The other highlight of the weekend was to attend Daughter Number 2's (aged 22) degree show at Duncan of Jordanstone Art College in Dundee. While I was there, she found out she had just become a BA with a 2:1 degree.
Her older sister (aged 23) having achieved the same level of BSc degree last year at Aberdeen Uni, is about to become a fully qualified science teacher any minute now. She's waiting to hear where she will be placed for her first (guaranteed) year of employment. There is a definite chance she could end up teaching her youngest sister in a couple of years' time - she's not sure whether to like that idea or not.
The Degree Show was a real eye-opener, especially since my daughter had chosen not to display any of the works that had gained her an honours degree, but rather took the opportunity to highlight her growing cynicism towards the pretentiousness of the art establishment and its purveyors and practitioners, with a marvellously assembled collection of exhibits that must have taken her all morning to put together! The final of these was a small piece of paper (about 3" square) with a hastily scribbled drawing of yours truly she had done from a photograph she had of me, entitled 'Portrait Of The Artist's Father'. Proud? I can't begin to tell you!
I watched, with increasing fascination and amusement, the quizzically raised eyebrows of most of the other visitors to the show upon entering my daughter's allocated display area. Yes, part of me wanted to show them all what she is really capable of (far better artwork than her father could have created at her age), but the most of me was delighted by her bravery and humour, and I'm still chuckling about it now. I'd like to think I'd have had the courage to do as she has done, had I followed her route a quarter of a century ago (and I very nearly did), but I suspect my vanity wouldn't have allowed it. She was worried I wouldn't get it - I not only got it, I agreed with every square inch of it.
Daughter Number 3 (aged 19) will qualify as a fully trained hairstylist early next year. She chose to leave home at 16 and move to the big city (Edinburgh) to fend for herself, along with her boyfriend and two house cats. Despite her level-headedness and determination, she retains a childlike spirit that shines through in everything she does and stands her in very good stead. And she's recently given up smoking, this time for good (I hope).
My youngest is the most naturally funny child, loves to use big words (often correctly), and wants to work with animals some day. She knows more about gardening than I'll ever know, and writes very amusing and bizarre stories.
Can't wait for my next trip.
