Thom's Testimonials

So the Belfast show has been and gone, and a good time was had by all.  Especially Carl Weathers who ended up chatting to my Dad about the disaster of earthquakes that are becoming increasingly more frequent in California.

One of the joys of having a table at a Con is enjoying the reactions of folks. Both good and bad. 

I LOVES it.

 “All Things Thom” is probably the most genuine, creative thing, coming straight from my little Thom insides, that I do.  I dabble in fairly realistic figure work, it’s something that I can do, but all my Thoms are a total relief of getting the nonsense that bangs around in my heid out.  It’s actually a need that I have to get them out and allow them to live in the world.  So it doesn’t really make a difference as to what kind of reactions I get.  As long as they keep living in me and saying the stupid stuff they do, it’s my duty to sick them up and get them out.

Painting for me takes a LOOOONG time.  My day to day studio work is so intense that to come home and “do a Thom” is as much of a relief as it would be to “do a dump” after being a fatty and stuffing your face on rubbish. 

At the Con, it seemed particularly evident that it wasn’t always obvious to folk that I was the one behind the Thoms.  And I’m pretty sure I’m right in thinking this as I’m sure some faces wouldn’t have looked quite so disgusted, and the negative remarks been quite so loud had they known. 

But perhaps maybe they would.  

I don’t have a beef with that.  It’s rather fun feeling slightly invisible and being able to witness someones gut reaction to what you’re trying to do.  I don’t want to be a middle man.  Anything I do I don’t want it to be “Ok”.  Either love it or think it’s shit.  I just like when you have the bollocks to stick by what you think. 

So here are some Thom testimonials that it was a pleasure to witness, whether the people knew I was the Thom or not…

And my favourite...

...that little kids response!  Brilliant.   

Belfast Film and Comic Con!!

So, the Thom show is near to hitting the road.  VERY excited but also feeling slightly wobbly knee-ed.  (Ok, so thats totally not a word.  And I only say that because I was sure it was and had to Google it up.  But it's totally not a word.)

Well, really looking forward to seeing the mad mix of sorts there's bound to be there in both art and creativity! 

And incase you're looking for something to do this weekend and you want to avoid the boring stuff you've been putting off but vowed to yourself you'd DEFINITELY do it this weekend...Don't bother and come to this!...

Belfast Film and Comic Con

Make sure you make time for having a little bit if fun today.  Like, if you're having a cup of tea, have a REALLY good biscuit with it. 

(That's genuinely something I get quite excited about)

Bye now.

Giant Chair Fail

So this is what happens when you’re too over enthusiastic about getting a leg up to bound onto a 7ft giant’s chair in a Leprechaun Museum but you’re neither as limble and light as you once were.

For your perusal, I have attached here an image of myself plus a close up elbow image.  You can't quite appreciate it, but the bump is about the size of an egg.  And that mouldy yellow smudge isn't that I have a dirty elbow.  Thats the beginning of the bruise.  I have to say, for a while there I couldn't even see my elbow.  It was just one big giant Popeye type swelling.

Anyway, at the time of the said fail, the last things I thought were,

“Aaaaahh”

“Nick catch me”

“God this is quite high up” and

“This is going to hurt”

And it did. 

All that came out though was a sound like “Eeeeeeeep”

I’ve got injuries now that remind me of scrappings I got as a tiny Thom. You don’t tend to get those type of damages once you grow into a grown up because really, you’re meant to be a little more in control of your body and how you make it work. 

But unlike those times in primary school when I would tend to bound up and give it another go, I lay on the floor for a good while to make sure things weren’t broken, while everyone else enjoyed bounding onto the chairs in a much more sensible way.

Sensible isn’t as fun, but it Goddamn hurts sometimes.

Thom the Tink

In my normal every day,-day-to-day style of dress, I so often feel like a tink*.   In my 9-5 job I don’t consider myself as actually having to present myself to the world, so I dress in my “Sunday-clothes-for-bumming-around-the-house-when-you‘re-sure-noone-will-see-you” outfit.

One day recently in my 9-5 attire, I had an unfortunate meeting with an arse ugly dog who, as I came upon it, remarkably seemed to be looking at me with an air of disgust.  Sitting there, with its fat, wrinkly gut spilling over the pavement and a face that could make shit melt.  The cheek of it.

And I’m sure it wasn’t thinking very much at that moment, but my God, the look in its bulging fly eyes said, “Bitch, you ain’t nuthin but a scruffy ho”

Thom the Tink

I walked away with an unintentional feeling of bewilderment, genuinely questioning what was that about.

I didn't think I was that insecure.  Although I did once apologise to a pigeon for not being able to get out of his way.  You know, I went one way, he went the same way, I went to the left, he went to the left I went to the right, he went to the right…It was all very awkward.

The animal world is so odd.

(*bum, hobo, vagrant)

Monster from the Deep (and Spinning Around)

Unfortunately for The Heid, I can be annoying for most times, in a kind of, “slightly wrong in the head” kind of a way.

The first one this evening was as he was straining the mixed veg over the sink, I popped my head in-between his view of what he was doing, the strainer and the “smoke” (although as Heid corrected me, the steam, which is really what I meant but it came out as “smoke”) and made some kind of crusty old gurn face and asked if I looked like a “monster from the deep”.

The “smoke” was just asking for a monster type gurn face to be put in it.

The second evolved into a very long winded process. 

The simple request was, “Thom, could you pass me a couple of bowls?”

Rather than acting upon the simple ask, I proceeded into a “what would you do” scenario.  So instead of replying, “Yes my Heid.  I shall pass ye the bowledge” I instinctively began turning in circles and in this episode of “What Would You Do” I said,

“What would you do if I had a disease that meant I couldn’t stop turning round in circles?”

And so, frustrated Heid stood at the cooker, still bowless, as I tried to pick the two bowls from the dishwasher while turning round in circles.

It’s actually more difficult than you think.

(And incase you’re wondering what Heid’s answer was to “What Would You Do” it was, “I wouldn’t be here to answer that question”)

CHAAAA' MOWEEN MUTHA FUPPAS

Halloween treat.

This clip is not quite how I'd planned.  I'd say about 65 percent how I'd planned.  It's not like the quality would have been any better, but if you can imagine lots more zombies, some sexy camera moves, a soundtrack that would have included a kazoo, casio keyboarding and mouth trumpet, and a bit of dialogue at the end in the style of a jolly Yorkshire man going,

"Eeeee, that were good",

then you're almost there.

Whatever way, I'm sure I'm championning the legacy that is Mickey J.

He would have wanted it this way.

The Stick

Most mornings I do enjoy the morning walk to work, cutting through a delightful, decently sized park that allows the avoidance of the junkies I would otherwise meet along the way.  And it mostly consists of me talking nonsense about things that are usually bumming around in my noggin while Heid looks on, thinking his own thoughts and hoping that I either make sense at some point or just give him some peace to wake up properly.

Well, Monday past, I was running late. 

Heid was having none of this and left, leaving me to rummage around the flat, swearing like a swearer because I couldn't find either my keys or wallet which then ended up being in my bag where I last left them.

Keen to catch up with the “long left ago” Heid, I made like a hip waddling speed walker for the park.  And there he was, a glimpse in the distant horizon. 

On this particular morn there had been a storm the previous evening and branches, leaves and sticks were simply just shat all over the park path.  (I should add here, while running/waddling through the park in “intent on catching up” fashion, I did infact REALLY enjoy stomping on branches creating a tiny bone crunching cracking sound, while in my head videos of 80s adventure movies were playing and I was taken to some jungle type scenario where I was running away from a big boulder that’s been set upon me by some baddies)

Before I had a chance to begin a running commentary of said boulder and baddies, I saw before me a corker of a branch layen “a-strew” by the park path.  And despite its pleas of, “LEAVE ME!!  DON’T TOUCH ME, GO AWAY!!! BECAUSE YOU WILL LOOK LIKE A MENTAL IF YOU BEGIN RUNNING THROUGH THE PARK WITH ME IN YOUR HAND”

I didn't listen.

The plan was instantly formed in what I deemed to be amusing which was catching up with Heid from behind and poking him up the arse with the stick.

There were several flaws to this plan.

1)  Heid had made good distance by this time, meaning I would really have to run far more than I would like in order to catch up. 

2) To others enjoying/not enjoying they’re morning park walk, I would just look like a woman running through the park with a big stick. 

3)  I wouldn't exactly describe the “stick” as a “big stick” but more like “part of a tree” seeing as it was around 6 foot long with several other branches and leaves still intact.

Still did it though.

Took both hands to hold it and run at the same time which made me move in a slightly unbalanced mental run type way.  

Despite this, I was running and laughing at the same time to myself because the image of what I may have looked like was amusing me.  (I will just say at this point, my fella, “The Heid”, was not any closer).

When passing/running/hobbling past a couple of council park workers, although I have the will to run through a park with a 6 foot branch I didn't have the will to meet their gaze, but I did see out from the corner of my eye that the heads did turn and the sight of me laughing to myself and running around with a stick managed to stop their conversation.

Still.  Onwards I ran.

Unfortunately, I blew my own cover, and as the branch tip barely met Heid’s arse, he turned round in time to see me out of breath, bent over, laughing with a 6 foot part of a tree.

Oh well.  Plenty more days ahead to be stupid.