I've just revisited a previous post of mine to incorporate a
I could have said it was a minimalist, cubist, post-modern interpretation that succinctly conveys the hourly struggle of a chronic disease sufferer. In fact, I'm just really bad at art.
My 1983 art report says "Mark's cheerful demeanour, and merry greeting as he trots into the artroom, amply compensate for the somewhat bizarre offerings that trickle from his pencil or brush." I expect that if Mrs Veale reads my blog, she'll be turning in her grave.