While I was drawing this a man approached me walking 2 dogs on a leash: one looking like a poodle, the other like a terrier.
As they got closer, Elliot, who was tied to my leg by his leash, let out a half-arsed little growl and I told him to stop it.
‘Ooh,’ said the man halting his stroll and maneuvering himself behind me, ‘that’s lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ I said, pretty sure he was talking about the drawing and not the startling shade of yellow my hair was from the inept bleaching I’d recently given it.
‘You’ve got the light right.’ he said, and I said thank you again.
Elliot was letting out a few more growls so I looked down to chastise him and at the same time I saw that the man’s terrier, whose face was very close to Elliot’s, had something wrong with its eye.
It was swollen, like a marble, and even though I was very curious as to what was going on with the dog, I didn’t want to engage the man in conversation.
So I didn’t bring it up, I went back to my drawing.
‘Are they soft pastels?’ the man asked me.
”Yes.’ I said.
‘My aunt used pastels,’ he said, ‘she was an artist.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I said.
‘I love these old style of houses,’ he said, ‘my favourite one is up the street there.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I said, thinking about what colour I was going to use for the front door.
The man, who was wearing a red baseball cap and shorts and a white polo shirt continued.
‘It’s blue, has a porch all the way around it,’ he went on, ‘you should have a look at it.’
‘I might go when I finish here.’ I said.
‘Oh, okay then,’ he said, ‘I see.’
Then he stood there for a few moments later until he said to his animals- ‘Okay, good luck, come on boys, let’s go.’
And off he went.
Todays podcast: ProPublica: The Breakthrough- How an ICIJ reporter dug up the World Bank’s best kept secret
A Hundred Houses 