Catherine Goodman (5)

Another day, another sitting.   I quite like the way the sessions drift between music, observation, occasional stretching and a lot of high class gossip.   Yesterday I was given an enormous bowl of coffee and then made to sit dead still for two hours which is a form of Japanese torture.   For some reason, we discussed my very brief and disastrously unsuccessful career as the opening bat for my prep school 1st. XI.   I suppose it is inevitable that being painted engenders a degree of self reflection.   Today was quieter and more reflective.   We tried to remember the brilliance of Humphrey Ocean’s speech last night.   As I sat, bits of it came back to me:  the fact that he regarded himself, like Constable, as a flatearther and that Constable retained a strong affinity for the ground.  He’s the only person I know who can speak intuitively entirely from the left side of the brain.

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