When you really love a painting, why not whack it on your shoes? Like my last pair, these started out as a plain white Primark purchase. Unlike the last pair, they’re shaped a little differently at the front, which means more space to play around with.
I’ve seen lots of Starry Night shoes painted this way all over the internet, with varying degrees of success, and I like how these turned out. I had to adapt the original image, obviously, to get it to fit, & I improvised with the swirlies all down the sides. I thought about putting some curly text somewhere on them, ‘Starry Night’ or ‘Vincent’ or something, but I decided against it and stuck some sunflowers on the back instead. Painted with acrylic & sealed with 2 layers of mod podge.
Plain white primark shoes, £4… transformed! Painted with acrylic & sealed with mod podge, but I think I’m gonna have to wait for summer before I can wear them outside.
I also think I have way too much time on my hands & need a job.
In my tube-induced haze I managed to turn right instead of left out of Baker Street station this morning and bumped right into the Sherlock Holmes museum. I guess I subconsciously knew there must be one, I’d just never researched it. I’ll try and check it out when there isn’t a hefty queue of Sherlockians outside. Took a picture because I love the sign.
The second photo is Daunt Books on Marylebone High Street. They sell all kinds of books, but the best part of the place, the three-tiered gallery in the photo, is devoted to travel. I could have eeeeasily dropped about £500 on travel books there today, but just browsing was fun. I hate the thought of what the internet will eventually do to real bookshops like Daunt and all the independent places London (and everywhere else) is so lucky to have. Grim.
On the way back from the Globe last night, I caught a bit of the Shard’s sexy light show. It kind of looked like a massive, evil robot, but I suppose I appreciated it, and I’m looking forward to paying an extortionate 25 quid to see the view from the top next year.
Went to Wimbledon yesterday for the ladies semi-finals. It was a more successful trip than last year for a number of reasons, the most prominent being that I didn’t have to get up at 4.30am and I didn’t return home with sunburn so bad that my eyes hurt.
This year, we were fortunate enough to have been given grounds passes in advance, so we showed up at about twenty past ten, strolled through the gates at half past and took a seat on the hill right opposite the big screen in a very civilised, stress-free fashion. We then proceeded to eat the obligatory strawberries, doughnuts, kettle chips and squashed, pre-made sandwiches.
When we left at about 4.30, I had to make my way to the Globe for a shift, and a journey that should have taken me no more than 40 minutes became a two hour-long test of patience and sanity. I don’t think “sorry, ladies and gents, we’re being held at a red signal and we’re not actually sure what’s wrong… we may be here for some time” is going to cut it with an over-crowded, sweaty train full of Olympics-goers, tourists and commuters in a few weeks’ time. If you’re going to be here for the Olympics, think easily-strippable layers, people. Easily strippable.
I title this magnificent work ‘How to use up a black pen’. It was executed in roughly four minutes and it’s the only way I can accurately illustrate what it feels like to be alone in the house late at night. Apparently I go all emo whe left unsupervised for more than 48 hours.
Over the weekend I visited Brighton for the first time. Of all of its many famous attractions, the Royal Pavilion was my favourite - an insane display of insane wealth, on the outside and the inside. You’re not allowed to take pictures, but they wouldn’t have really done the place justice anyway. The banquet room and music room look like something out of a Disney movie.
The pier (the only one left!) was also wonderful, probably the part of Brighton that most felt like walking into a postcard. From it, you can see the sad-looking remains of the West Pier just along the beach.
The picture of the beach, with the crazy golf in the foreground, was taken from the Brighton wheel. From ground level the wheel looks like a smaller, faster version of the London Eye, but being inside one of the pods feels more like a traditional ferris wheel. The pods rock in the wind (which just happened to be fierce that day), and it’s fine at first, when you’re still within easy jumping-distance of the ground, but when they pause the wheel with you at the very top… not so much.