Bob's mum collected teacups. The pretty old English bone china type and she kept them in her china cabinet. When she died no-one in the family wanted them and they ended up in a cardboard box that Bob rescued and brought home. I adore them and I treasure them. They remind me of her. She always had a table cloth on her kitchen table and whenever we dropped by we would sit in the kitchen at the table. The table was in front of the window and you could see her plants that grew down the side of the house. There was a particular shrub there that had the most glorious lemon scented leaves. I still have some of those leaves, dried in some potpourri. Anyway I'm getting away from the story. We would sit at the table and she would make a cup of tea. Bob would drink his tea and then go and do some odd job. It was then that she would tell me some interesting story. My favourite story was her re-count of the end of World War 2. She told me how there was dancing in the street and people everywhere filled with joy. She described everything, the sounds, the feelings, the sights and it was as if I was there. I always felt like she knew everything. If I wanted to know something I would ring her and ask and she always knew the answer. I miss her dearly and I miss our chats at the kitchen table. The teacups I have painted aren't exactly old English bone china but I did use them as the model.
She Collected Teacups
collage, acrylic paint and conte on canvas
p.s. I have all her table clothes and now use them on my own kitchen table.