Bank Holiday

Funny thing long weekends, I always feel that they have to be FILLED with activity.
Just the fact that there is that extra day, means I inevitably try to cram five days stuff into three days.

Anyway, what I'm getting round to saying, IS, I had a busy one.

Friday evening was spent at Spearmint Rhino's in Norwich.......yes, again.
Took herself along, and we had a jolly time. Thanks once again to Vincent and the crew.
Claire loved the place, and spent a good deal of the evening talking to Vincent and the girls.
I was of course working really hard.

Saturday we were up bright and early to go to Holkham Hall for an event billed as an Aristocratic Boot Fair. The idea is that the local gentry turn up to shift the dusty relics from their attics/tied cottages/carriage sheds onto the assembled prols, for hard currency.

I was searching for some mangy taxidermy to dress up the studio with.
(always a nice combo, paintings of naked women counterpointed by a flea bitten Grizzly or Tiger skin rug).
Sadly the only options were a rather plastic looking stuffed fish, or a pair of pheasants in a glass case. Neither set my pulse racing.
However, the possibilities of the event had dragged all and sundry out for the day. Both the aristo's on the stalls and the characters walking round were fascinating in their Norfolk-ness.
I took a few pics, I'll put some up later for your perusal.

While disappointed at the lack of suitable relics, I was more than happy with the new word that herself invented, "Stuffery".
The Oxford entry would probably go something like ;
Stuffery, verb, disreputable examples of ancient hunting rights. Not uncommonly dismembered heads of bovine mammals, or complete skins of large carnivores. Often to be found in poor condition near large, loud, high-born men of a similar state.

Saturday night was another evening of work at Rhino's. Did lots of sketching, and was fascinated by the sight of two or three grooms to-be on their Stag nights'.
Each was placed on the stage and tortured by the supernaturally erotic dancers.

I have posted a sketch of one of them going through this rite. It looked to me like they were being forced to confront not only the end of their days of single male freedom, but the inevitable harnessing and eventual death of their libido...........that's maybe a bit dark, but do you know what I mean ? Like some ancient ceremony of willing self-denial;
"I shall no longer chase skirt, and if I do the vengeful god of erotic dancers will pluck out my eyes".....

Very funny, even so. The guy in the sketch had obviously drunk a few beers, but he was a master of self control. His hands didn't so much as twitch on his lap..........his eyes told a different story though.

The other picture is a portrait of one of the dancers, she has lovely eyes, and she dances under the name Scarlett.
In the nicest possible way, she most certainly is.