Amongst Giants

Changed my car the other week. At the wonder that is CarGiant. They claim to hold the record for the largest car lot in the world, and have the Guinness certificate displayed on the wall behind reception to prove it.

I don't know about that, but they must be in contention for the highest turnover of customers, and most efficient in parting them and their cash.

While I was waiting to pay there were at least 30 people processed thru the system. Sketched a few, as we listened for our name and number to be called.

And, for the record, the new car is great.

Two lines

Two attempts at the one line portrait.

Works best in profile.

This guy was waiting for friends outside Somerset House the other monday. I know this because I was waiting there for a friend as well, and his friends turned up first.

One's day out.

Sometimes small pockets of a previous world manage to exist alongside our own.

This old lady was dressed to the nines on the tube, heading for a social occasion in town.

With her black gloves, and her fur trim, and her Louis Vuitton hand bag. She was a stable bubble from a different age. Unpoppable.

And check out her ear rings. Bling madam, bling.

Cuban rescue.

Sketched this woman in her blue D&G knock off top whilst we sat in a small park dominated by a statue of Cervantes.

And then, later on, as we were being accosted by a bloke wanting us to give him money, there she was again, sitting on a wall outside the National Cuban Art Gallery. And I said hello, and she smiled back, and then told the bloke to leave us alone.

Or at least that is how I am interpreting that situation.

Waiting, and wondering.

Is life all waiting ? Waiting for trains to go to work...

waiting for trains to go home again...

waiting to see who the Judges are going to vote off this week...

Sorry

Waiting on St. Pancras station last night, started to sketch this man reading his Evening Standard. He looked up at the information board, noticed me, instantly clocked what I was doing, gave me a look that would have shriveled lesser mortals in their bed socks, and walked away, hence the sketch didn't get any feet.

His overcoat was the most brilliant deep chocolate brown colour.

Not a particularly anything drawing, but he sealed his fate with his not wanting to be sketchedness.

I apologize to him here.

26 and 27

Haven't been anywhere, so all from old sketch books now.

From a cinema trip last year. The guy reading whilst he waits for the film to start...

And a couple, in front of me, checking through the newspaper.