Re­cov­er­ing from an art at­tack

Marlborough Express - The Saturday Express, Marlborough - - FRONT PAGE -

The words crafts, paint and glue are guar­an­teed to strike fear into my heart.

Miss Five loves to draw, paint and make things. This in it­self is won­der­ful, what is less ad­mirable is her Jack­son Pol­lock ten­den­cies. It’s scary just how far paint can splat­ter. I have given up try­ing to pro­tect the ta­ble; it’s a lost cause, bat­tle-scarred but bright with a rain­bow of colours and faded wa­ter marks; it re­ally should be put out of its mis­ery.

The car­pet, the walls and even the poor cat have not es­caped un­scathed. It’s got to the point where we all need safety gog­gles.

The lit­tle artist her­self does not like to be in­ter­rupted when she is cre­at­ing ex­cept when she re­quires fresh wa­ter for her paint­brush; that’s my job ap­par­ently, that is when I’m not be­ing a drunk potato. For many months ev­ery pic­ture she did of me showed me laying down look­ing rather the worse for wear. An oval body and small eyes made me look like a stranded spud with hair.

My mi­nus­cule legs and arms ren­dered me help­less and my poor potato self was des­tined to roll around on the floor for eter­nity. It was a day of great re­joic­ing when I got the first pic­ture that didn’t show me lolling about on the floor. It still hangs with pride on the fridge. I was now a sober, up­right potato. Progress in­deed.

Then came the day of no re­joic­ing at all. The day of the Bunchems is a day of mourn­ing in our house. Miss Five and her cousins were play­ing with th­ese small, prickly balls of fun that are de­signed to stick to­gether. Think tiny pom-poms with teeth. Quite why Miss Five felt the need to lay down on th­ese lit­tle orbs of doom is not known but around 30 in­stantly stuck to her hair like glue.

No amount of care­ful teas­ing or comb­ing worked. They might have well been set in con­crete. There was only one op­tion left to us - scis­sors.

It took a long time for Miss Five’s hair to grow long and it hon­estly pained me to do it but snip away I did. From a dis­tance you couldn’t re­ally tell but close up her lay­ers weren’t so much blend­ing in as de­mand­ing in­de­pen­dence. Never again did a sin­gle Bunchem darken our door.

I adore Miss Five’s cre­ativ­ity, I ap­plaud her sense of flair and imag­i­na­tion, I just wish she didn’t want to spread that flair so lib­er­ally.

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