I used to spend a lot of time as a child and teenager drawing and sketching.  Lots of depictions of strange fashions, the garden pond and images from the TV or books.  Then I got into my 20s and started judging the outputs which was never what it had been about at all.  Of course, living with an artist means I’m more inclined to judge myself harshly when trying to express myself creatively but I recall the joy in drawing, the total absorption, and often the story I was playing out in my head.

Well, today I got out my sketchbook, dusted it off, and began to draw.  Not for long – just a few outline sketches of the cat (whilst he continued to strike a new pose every several seconds) and some interesting shadows cast in my eye-line.  Nothing I’m willing to share, mind!  Judging by the dates in my sketchbook, I hadn’t picked it up in some six years so somewhat rusty!  But, I think I’d like drawing to make a reappearance in my life and be a part of #MyTime.