Yo

There was an utterly delightful lady I sat next at the bus stop outside of Brisbane.  She was tiny.  Less than five feet.  English.  During the war she worked at a munictians factory (sp? sorry for spelling).  She was responsible for checking for defects in bomb parts.  From the way she spoke - it was the most responsibility she had ever had and she took it seriously and her children (for she was quite elderly at the time I met her) found her irritating and a useless encoumbarage (fuck one day I will learn to spell). 

She was so lovely and it was so sad that her family didn't appreciate her. 

Another lady I met - and was well appreciated by her family thankfully - and surprisingly turned out to be a dragon of a grandmother about manners and such - she was so much softer with me - I was shocked - she worked in some kind of bunker during the war - in Brisbane for heavens sake - she was taken to work in a car with blacked out windows - she had no idea where it was even now - and they received messages and were in a control room that they had the war maps in like wot they used to push little  models of boats and such out onto maps at.

How awesome, ey?

If I were rich and idol, I would visit old people homes for fun.  They have the best stories because they are based on real ones :)

Humerous attempt at oil painting - first attempt - argh - mixed with oil is going to take too long to dry - scissors!

it is late at night and this is a finger length long - there is no way it is going to also be focused :)  the teeth aren't yellow enough - I want it to remind him of my manic grin when he askes me how are things - lol