This is London and somewhere in Italy

This is the view from the roof of Walker Books, which is where I work. I'm not sure if you're allowed on the roof.

This is the view from the roof of 153 Petherton Road. You're not allowed on the roof.

This is East Croydon train station. I was waiting there to meet Arron and Greg to cycle down to Brighton (they didn't fancy the "South London shit bits").

This is the logo from a packet of IODAL Fino, which is an Italian salt brand. This tells us we are now in Italy.

This is the inside of our hired Fiat 500. Look at this picture whilst listening to Taylor Swift's Red on MAX VOL for the full experience.

This is the same scene drawn on a much rockier road, giving everything a charming Quentin Blake style wibble.

So that's nice.

Argentina

Here are some sketches and bad photos from my fun but unremarkable trip to Argentina in March. Please look at it.

Jazzy, mully, lightyhousey

I was reading in the Barbican Centre and I must have reached a racy bit as I was engrossed long enough for a Jazz festival to be assembled around me (which will happen if you stop still in the Barbican Centre for too long). I ended up watching this French trio, Triphase, which was nice.

Just before Christmas we hosted a pop-up Mullery in our flat. It was like one of the staid mulled wine soirées our parents attend but with an almost imperceptible layer of wry self-awareness and just enough of a nod to the relevant, bloggable North London alt-restaurant scene for us to continue believing we are "with it".

This is the Red Lion & Sun in Highgate which may or may not serve Doom Bar.

And for reference, this is a pint of Doom Bar.

More recently, we went and stayed in this fine once-lighthouse now super-charming bed & breakfast.
Now that was nice.

Valerio's

Last week I went to that great balsamic boot, Italy.

Specifically I was back in the Marche region, in the medieval mountain town of San Ginesio. I suspect it's usually a sleepy place but it never is in August when everyone dresses like old paintings and marches back and forth drumming furiously for a month solid like renaissance Duracell bunnies.

One day we went for a cut-throat shave at Valerio's on the piaza. It was just like one of those old gangster movies where someone goes for a shave.

Otherwise it was mainly cooking and crosswords and cross words. You know, the usual family stuff. (Not my family, mind.)

I went to Mallorca

Last week I went to Mallorca. Mallorca is my favourite island, along with River Island and Fernando's. I went there last year, or at least around it, for a disastrous sailing trip. This time we stayed very much on land - specifically in a villa near Pollença.

I went with 5 friends.

And whilst they all read and bathed and chatted and lolled I sat away from the group in the shadows, drawing. I did a little spread for each day, look:

Four Aces

The joke is that, in poker, any hand is a gamble. That's kind of the point.

Cat on record

f•r•i•e•n•d•s

This situation-comedy is going to be big. Come back soon for more piping-hot culture scoops!

Mirror image

Appy Memories

Here's a strip that's been buried in my sketchbook since a time when Instagram was relevant.

Cross stitch saturday

A bit of a sketchbook page from last year, animated a bit.

Drive

A place in the wind

Back in October I was lucky enough to get an invitation to a Tuscan villa retreat. Fresconaccia they call it, which Google translates as "Fresh threat" but apparently means something more like "windy place". In fact it was neither threatening nor farty. It was just five days of tearing mozzarella balls in crisp autumn sunshine, like an ad from the Lucca tourist board but with more topless ping-pong and some shameful drunk freestyling.

Whilst there, I drew this:

So that was nice.

Jane Airs

The other stuff what I did on my holidays

The second part of my European Summer odyssey was spent in Italy. I was back at Char's San Ginesio family home for the third year in a row. If you've seen the Bertolucci film Stealing Beauty you'll have a decent idea of the set-up. Imagine that, but with me in the Liv Tyler role.

We picked Ryan's Air.


Emily picked her legs.


San Ginesio has a population of 3,872.


I've drawn this all before.


If you're finding all this international doodlery overwhelming, I've now started putting all my sketches on a map.
It's an idea I've stolen from the "Seattle Sketcher" and, like Mr Sketcher, I'll be "geotagging" all my sketches as I do them.

View Larger Map

What I did on my holidays

I've been away for a while. And not just AFK, as they say in Second Life. Genuinely away: out of the country. Out of the office, even, meriting email autoreplies (if I had remembered to set it).

We (me, Char and five of Char's school friends: Henry, Hugh, Jess, Mark & Sophie) went to Saint Julien en Born, a little French hamlet (a jambon-let, you might say) somewhere between Biarritz and Bourdeaux.



There was a beach, Contis Plage I think it's called.



We were camping amidst a pine forest which was kind of idyllic when the sun was shining (which it was for about half the time). I was pretty much raised under canvas and so was ready for some of the vicissitudes of tent life and the others were fine with it too. Char on the other hand seemed to have completely misunderstood the object of the exercise. At one point early on becoming hysterical and bawling "We're living like tramps!".
It was what those in the camping game call a tents moment, probably.







There's nothing more tempting than a big red sign sticking out of the ocean saying "BAINE: COURANT VIOLENT".



It really was a great holiday.

On Brixton

A digital sketch inspired by/completely ripping off this Russian guy. Photography and illustration combined, a bit like in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, is almost always cool.

Canton Arms, Stockwell

Kronenbourg, Red Stripe, San Miguel and Fosters.

Joyce Division

The good news is that I've got a lot of proper illustration and design jobs on at the moment.
The bad news is that I can't post any of this proper stuff, and so have to keep sticking up sketches drawn in the snatched moments whilst they load... like this one of James Joyce playing guitar (recognisable by his trademark armless-spectacles).

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