Iwoke this morning with a heavy head, remembering that at some point in the distant past I had made a well intentioned, over enthusiastic, yet irrational declaration of intent – apparently I had promised to publish a post every Wednesday on my Wonky Words blog. How had this happened? I sighed and dragged myself out of bed, what the hell was I going to write about? There was Charmaine, of course, and her inky dabblings with italic calligraphy, and I could make mention of Harold, the Spanish flamenco dancer who was also locked in my attic fiddling with his self styled pointed nib….
On Tuesday evening before last Sunday, Harold and I argued ferociously, in an equally determined fashion, with regard to his refusal to learn any broad pen lettering. He believed a copperplate style would befit his passion for all things flamboyant and flouncy. In the end I let him have his way as I wanted to watch Eastenders and Holby City, but I refused to give him access to my extensive supply of pointed nibs and I made a note not to give him a bowl with his gruel the following morning, I also considered withholding the spoon.
So anyway, here we are, it is Wednesday and I am posting Charmaine’s first attempts at italic, and Harold’s first calligraphic marks with a pointed piece of wire that he picked out from an old electricity cable, which he found protruding from the attic wall.
Charmaine’s first attempt!!
Harold’s copper ‘wire’ plate….
Charmaine, bless her, is learning some lettering history as she practices, which I think is a rather noble endeavour, although I doubt very much that she will remember anything worthwhile – she may be a sphinx like beauty but she has the memory of a fish. Harold, on the other hand, being the artistic sensitive type, is writing any old random phrase that pops into his head, and claims to prefer using an expressive stream of consciousness for his practice material… personally, I think he is spending far too much time staring at Charmaine’s chest.
Wonky Words 
” … sphinx with jugs … “, ah, ja … The call of nature.
Charmaine could use some proof-reading (Zeile 6, “dominatel”) I think, but it’s a start. I like what Harold does, he’s building it up from the grounds – if I ever have the need for some freshly written 18th century letters I would like to ask you for a contact, really, I like what he does with his tiny protruding nip.
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Thank you, Mr Mags!! Ah, the curse of the calligraphic typo! We all start as we go on. As for Harold, he is now being quite wilful, with flamboyant flourishes all over the place, whilst not paying any attention to his hefty instruction manual, which features detailed descriptions on pen angles, and where to place ones feet when writing… he is a disgrace. We will catch up with him at a later date.
Sx
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Now that he has a bit of free time, will Jeremy Clarkson be enrolling as a calligraphy student? He could use a little discipline, gruel, and penmanship if you take my meaning.
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Mr Lax… Sshhhh… I have already had the phone call from the BBC.
Sx
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You are a cruel mistress. How much would you charge to walk on my back and insult my masculinity?
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Monsieur Pain – Empty your wallet, sweetie! I hope you have Luncheon Vouchers?
Sx
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I see your argument with Harold wasn’t serious enough to warrant witholding ink, too. Or, is that drooled gruel that’s making up his copperplate?
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Mr Devine – Ick!! Anyhow, in the end I gave him his gruel in an old Waitrose carrier bag and offered him a straw so that he wouldn’t make a mess. Heavens knows what he will end up doing with the straw.
Sx
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Just a small correction here. I think some fish have quite good memories. Look at the way Salmon can go back up a river a year after they are born, I believe, without getting lost. Mind you they can’t write for anything which means if they don’t remember something its lost forever, unless they had a voice recorder, of course, but that’s probably quite unlikely.
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Mr Ducks, you could be right about the Salmon…. but I have a suspicion that they have downloaded Google Maps into their hardware, and have had this technology for centuries… long before humans discovered Google maps in any case 🙂
Sx
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Just speculation – that Spanish dancer has his pants on too tight
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Bill – I considered your speculation and now all pants have been removed from the building. Thank you.
Sx
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May I come in, sweety? Care with that Harold and his tight pants…
XXX
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Of course you may come in, Leni!!! You have been assigned the luxury penthouse suite (just above the attic, so no noise) with running water and a portable telly!!! Don’t worry the offending tight pants have been removed and replaced with voluminous pantaloons.
Sx
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I couldn’t imagine a better place to be, Scarlet, That’s sweet!
No worries, Harold’s tight pants won’t offend me unless he removes them without having been required to.
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Trust me, there is no way that Harold can escape from the pantaloons 🙂
Sx
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I think I stopped watching Eastenders around the time Pat Butcher popped her clogs.
I lost my fashion mentor that day.
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We all did, MJ, we all did.
Happily, I still have a collection of dangly earrings in her memory.
Sx
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Did Miss Scarlet attend this rally?
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I may have done, BUT CLEARLY THIS IMAGE HAS BEEN PHOTOSHOPPED.
Sx
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Jeepers! I didn’t realise you had such a big house.I mean, an attic with room for voluminous pantaloons AND a penthouse above that.
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And an outside loo!!! More about that another day.
Sx
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The second picture brought me back to elementary school when we first started to learn how to write. Remember those lines of a’s and b’s and so on we used to make over and over? Whenever we did a good job, our teacher would stick a nice little gold star on the top of the page. Gold, silver and bronze depending on our performance. A red star meant that we were a big failure. I remember getting a few of those red ones.
And here we are stil doing lines and lines of letters, still practicing, still going throught all kinds of tests, being judge by our performance hopefully in exange of some sort of prize let it be a trophee, a diploma or simply a decent income so we can pay the bills.
Life, like calligraphy is an art form that requires constant practice. But I’m geting way too philosophical now… I’m blaming the snow storm that is raging outside right now. I mean, it’s a real blizzard out there with those gusty winds. My mother was even humming “I’ll be home for Christmas” this morning whilst making coffee.
Anyway, Merry Chris…. er… Happy Easter, ma chère! 😉
Hugs
Jon
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