So, haha. The other night I got invited along to the Edinburgh University Charity Ball thing, alongside Oliver Ninnis, Holly Beryl and Emily Cullen (whose blog is great, I only just look at it). Anyway, I think the idea was that we were meant to come along and draw lovely charming caricatures of the guests that they could take away and treasure. This sounds good on paper and would have worked had they not chosen some of ECA’s most misanthropic illustrators to carry out the task (adding insult to injury, Oli and Holly had been at some similar charity gala the night before so were fed up before the evening even began) and we quickly got bored of seeing the Yah brigade squeezed into bow ties and ball gowns.
No one asked to take away my drawings and treasure them.
So basically there were a load of people, some bands, some drinks, and even a magician. He looked like he was dissatisfied with the amount of gel in his hair so had gelled the rest of his face. He spent the most of his set telling this long, rambling anecdote about how he’d got into magic after his PhD (he’d been on a Channel Four show called Faking It I think), and then did some magic tricks.
[Edit: the drawing is a little unclear, but during a lull in the conversation, unprovoked, she shrieked “Made in Chelsea’s on tonight, I’m so excited!”]
That outburst was the highlight for me. There were also various animals,
Best in show were these kids who were having a gay old time trying to throw ice cubes down each other’s dresses, but got incredibly offended at my loving rendition of the scene (and I’d like to point out that they had requested a drawing of the group of them before I’d even started),
which is a shame because it may well be my favourite drawing of the year, and I really can’t think of anything more fun than an evening of free red wine and such, uhh, expressive drawings of my fellow man, or better a lifetime dedicating my life to this kind of work; say, being invited to gala weekends with the rich and famous in the French Riviera, a glass of some else’s champagne in one hand and a sketchbook in the other, and I’m sure this modest evening could be the first step on such a path.
If they ask us back. Which they won’t.