You could be forgiven for concluding, on the basis of the handful of sketches I made during the last week, that the festive period chez Parkin was anything but. This image of joyless bookishness is misleading of course, merely reflecting the rare moments that family members sat still long enough for me to whip out the ol’ Moleskine.
Having said that, Chloë is entering her university home straight and Sam is currently trying to get his head around the fundamentals of accounting (not his natural comfort zone) so there probably was a slightly more studious atmosphere about the place than in previous years.
And once again I found myself ineluctably compelled to draw – or attempt to draw – our Christmas tree. Most fiendish of subjects.
Happy New Year, everyone.