It's a sunny day; the veg beds need sowing and there
are wild flowers in the wood that I want to draw but there's no
way around it: I have to work indoors today, writing up The
Normanton Chronicles.
I haven't drawn all day and it's gone nine in the evening before
I can settle down to work on my diary. In my freshly spring-cleaned
studio this is the most interesting still life that I can find.
I draw it as I listen to Schubert's Fantasy in F minor
on the radio, a piano duet that was one of the composer's last works.
The sprayer is for stretching paper, the enamel cup to hold water
when I'm painting. The Sainsbury's Pitted Black Olives tin supposedly
gives a brings a hint of the Mediterranean to this bookshelf-end
still life. 
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