Most of the stuff we make, or at least that I make, just doesn’t make the final cut. I went through a huge stack of paintings, most of which were deeply disappointing!
For this crime there could be only one punishment: death by fire. Babar the Elephant and about twenty of his equally poor quality companions, were loaded into the wheelbarrow and pushed to a solitary corner of the orchard where the Lesser Incinerator was situated. The Greater One was too dignified an end.
A splash of mower petrol and a match and you can see the results below. Goodness knows it’s hard enough to produce anything good even if you are prepared to be severe with yourself. Without discipline, chaos reigns.
Tomorrow, the Blue Mosque and a Freud head (sort of at least).