Its all very well sitting in isolation doing ones paintings , its when its time to put them "out There" that I go to pieces. I start to get more neurotic by the day on the build up to a show, the anxiety fear and self critiscim gradually building to a crescendo in my head.Negaria peaks and I start asking questions like =why are you making luxury items when you should be stopping global warming or helping earthquake victims in China? Despite amazing support from family (thanks MA and PA) and friends I still end up in a shame vortex and in the bondage of self obsession. Luckily this year there was enough distraction to quell the hysteria... the novelty of London -meeting my new God Daughter Rose -I did a fair amount of converting dollars to pounds in my head which stopped me shopping (an excellent detterant for the spender when bored syndrome) - wow what temptation along Kings rd! I really practiced restraint of "walllet" . I saw nieces nephews old friends. I went all over London on the underground and bus. The day of my opening it pissed with rain- a great putter offer of social engagements- I went and saw my dear friend Lize who gave me one of her splendid boxes - small moral tableaus with play mobile men- I was thrilled with my new piece- also a good distraction. Bt 5 oclock I had decided I would not attend my own opening at all and would sit on Albert Bridge and listen to my ipod and be tragic. I then remembered my friend Miss Whistles Book that she so kindly lent me "THE WAR ON ART" - it said "a professional show up and awaits the out come no matter what." I inhaled and walked into the gallery to await my punishment -which of course never came. I sold 11 at the opening and there was a great party in swinging LOndon.