Ive locked myself in the study, figuratively speaking because the door actually doesn't have a lock, to make an attempt to do something, anything, anything at all really,anything that doesn't involve me having to look or hear the football that has made its appearance on the TV for the second night running. I cant even begin to describe my passionate hate for the football, the droning noise of the commentators and beefy men circling, running into one another, one train wreck after another of bloody faces and noses pancaked across faces. So Ive turned on the tunes and try to wipe out the trace of all the other days of the week by immersing myself or at least my mind and hands into some clay, something to loose my mind and thoughts in for the evening, put some heart in this Saturday night. Ive been so consumed lately that I haven't made the time to do anything creative for myself, its time for all those ideas that have been swimming around in my mind for months to materialise. I begin with the clay and feel awkward, as if I cant even begin to create the images from my mind, my fingers are stumbling and so I just start playing with it and the more I manipulate it the more things I begin to see in the clay, a face, a person wrapped in a blanket, a bird, an old mans face.......and all of a sudden i turn and everyone has gone to bed, the lights are all out and I'm left with three hours gone, immersed in clay.