Tree by Alison Day
A month of drawing. Theme - Open Spaces - Prompt 3: Tree - for the spoonchallenge
And . . . A quick digi one done late last night.
Thursday, 7 August 2014
Wednesday, 6 August 2014
Story Mountain
Mountain by Alison Day 2014
Day 2 - my illustration for theme - Open Spaces - Prompt: #Mountain. #Spoonchallenge via #spoonflower
Monday, 4 August 2014
Scuba Chicken
Scuba Chicken by Alison Day 2014
Scuba Diving on
Crete was a hit with my son both last year and this. Each time he had a great
time and impressed his instructors with his natural ability for the sport. Now,
he wants to train for his Padi. If he does, there is the option to do the final
qualifying tests abroad—so Greece could be on the cards next summer too!
We were picked up in
the cool early morning air from our hotel and driven down to Plakias on the
south coast of Crete. We were with six others in the minivan and were driven by
Costos—aquiline nose, curly haired Adonis, from Thessaloniki and one of the diving instructors. Along the
journey, we skirted round and through Tuscan red and peach coloured, rugged
hills, dotted with dark green vegetation. Through small villages with
flourishing pink bougainvillea and past Kafeneons filled with old Greek men,
staring and drinking coffee.
Our destination, the
Calypso Diving Centre was based in a cove next to a resort called Kalypso
Cretan Village. The diving instructors came from all over the globe and were
led by a very fit lady—Bear. Classes were
in languages of what the majority understood— in this case English and German.
The enthusiasm at the diving centre was infectious and the 'how to' was clearly
explained. Photos were shown of the kind of marine life we could expect to see,
as well as those to keep away from. For a fee, photos could be taken during
your dive and copied onto a CD for posterity.
Last year I was one
of the first time scuba divers too, thinking because I loved snorkelling I
would like this too—I didn’t. This year, I was contented to watch my son's
enjoyment and go for a swim in the amusingly—impossible to sink in—salt water
pool of the resort.
I had to laugh at
the wetsuit fittings of that day's scuba pupils, remembering my own—where the
suits are tried on for size—dry. A nigh on impossible nail breaker, where
everyone dances the fandango, as they wrestle into the suits. Later, you are
introduced to the far easier option of a huge, wooden slatted tub, filled with
water. Then the wetsuit slides on— in dance moves more akin to an expressive tango.
I can honestly say I
only enjoyed the scuba process up until we had to get into the sea. Although
the gear is lighter in water, I hated being trussed up and carrying the
equivalent of concrete shoes around my middle. From my sealed in state, I felt
as though I was viewing the world from inside my own private goldfish bowl.
Then there was walking backwards into the sea because of the flippers— an
awkward experience and why—ducks don't?
As I swam part way
along the cove, with my instructor towards the open sea, I tried to distract
myself from the inevitable open water dive by admiring pretty fish and avoiding
the stinging tentacles of translucent, shocking pink jellyfish. It was then I
decided that this experience wasn't for me. Fear and claustrophobia took over
and I flatly refused to continue. My instructor sympathetically tried to
appease my fears, but once my mind is made up . . .
Not to waste the
diving experience completely, I floundered around the cove in a half
dive-snorkel mode and followed shoals of fish.
Next year—in my wetsuit—I will be snorkelling!
©AlisonDay Designs
Tuesday, 22 July 2014
Berry Delight
Flashback to a cooling summer drink and my interpretation of a Strawberry Slush: Strawberries, pineapple juice, lemon juice, crushed ice.
Fruit &Veg
Take a look at Vicki Sawyer's wonderful website filled with animals. Portrayed with technical realism and with and with a personal sense of humour.
As a child, family members taught her the different species of plants and animals, which ultimately led to art college.
Work as a graphic artist has meant she has created hundreds of murals containing the beloved birds, insects, grasses, and wildflowers seen in her childhood.
Her animals with hats series popped up one day as a thought, when she was on a walk: "If birds could build nests, then they could make hats."
For more about Alison Day Designs:
Sunday, 20 July 2014
The Lost Tourist
Waking up to our last day, of a two week holiday on the sunny island of Crete and perturbingly the idea of going home actually appeals—shock horror!—never thought I'd hear myself say that.
I've eaten in every restaurant I wanted to re-visit and drunk every drink that appealed (with the odd early morning thick head afterwards. I've done the everything and the nothing I intended, as well as reached a total state of relaxation and calm, which is exactly what I was aiming for.
There are more signals that the time to go has arrived. Sitting by the pool has replaced any activity and conversation has become an effort... er... what was my name again? Also, I see worrying traits akin to the lost tourist beginning to emerge—god forbid and... the pigeons are closing in.
What on earth are you talking about!
Well... the lost tourist was first spotted in the old town, as he shot up a side street, alongside a souvlaki bar where my son and I were munching on gyros pita. He caught our attention because he didn't fit in with the usual relaxed flow, adopted by tourists in hot countries.
Before I could pop another chip into my mouth, he had reappeared from the side street looking shocked—wild white hair, protruding eyes—awash with the local firewater and long legs swinging forward in spasms. The increasing momentum propelling him off in an unstable manner in the opposite direction down the street.
The final time we saw him, it was cocktail time on the hotel terras. With the whole terras to choose from he plopped down in a cushioned, wicker arm chair right next to me.
Oh gawd—no!—but it's a free country—right? —So we ignored him.
Unfortunately, there are people you can ignore and those you won't let you... Gazing out to sea and in-between gulps from litre-sized, Mythos beers, he would laugh intermittently at nothing. Then, when the waiter shooed away the pigeons—advancing on the cheesy, starsign-shaped snacks accompanying our drinks—he positively roared with laughter. Why? Who knows—although it is said that laughter is good for the soul.
With no desire for contact, but feeling his eyes boring into my left shoulder—as I sketched—I decided on a furtive glance at our chuckling hyena. Through darkened sunglasses, I could see there was absolutely nothing to worry about. From his face, I could see that the lost tourist's flight to the planet, Zob had happily departed a long time ago.
[*Ooh, look a pigeon* . . . Ha ha ha!]
Saturday, 19 July 2014
Cretan Magic
Sitting in a lovely little restaurant, in the old town of Rethymnon, under the hanging strands of flowering bougainvillea, its blooms in variegated and intense pinks.
Our waiter arrives. With our meal I order a glass of white wine—the local krasí—the waiter bobs a pony-tailed head and disappears into the restaurant. When the Cressi arrives, instead of a glass of white, it's an enormous glass of red.
'I didn't order red,' I say politely, 'I want white.'
From behind a bohemian moustache, he regards me with mild suspicion, as though I must be mistaken and then says bruesquely:
'I will change it.'
He returns a couple of minutes later with the desired glass of white Cressi - an equally enormous glass - generously filled. Depositing it demonstratively and without slowing his stride - to take the order from the next table—he places it on the table in front of me and says quite seriously:
'There—I painted it!'
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