What new living hell this is?

Reading Paradise Lost by Milton, the title of this Blog page taken from Dorothy Parker seems most appropriate in line with my dishonesty. But also how that seed can rally the troops of deceit, shame, self-hatred, distrust, and so on. All of this creates a downward spin of destruction and guess what can step in an seem to save the day? The devil incarnate, in the form of addiction. I do  not want to return to that anymore. Hence it is vital I am talking about this. OK so the horse may have bolted but I don't think it has. I think the horse has just stepped out calmly an assessing the options now that the door is open again.
It is both interesting as well as painful to view. I am grateful for these things been shown to me. I am praying to work my programme a suggested by a fellow this morning.
It started with but is not limited to an event yesterday evening. I met with JH but without talking this through with anyone. Knowing how much pain and upset the ending with JH caused me and indeed my shame at the way I met and behaved within this relationship, it might surprise some people that I even considered meeting him and this is not implicating him as the culprit, the problem the cause. Oh no I have the problem firmly focused on myself. JH was doing just what he wanted and could and is comfortable with. It was ll not good for me that's all, and not something I want to be involved in again. I would like only to meet someone who can love me as me, no games, no deceit, equality and support. This was not JH's fault, it just wasn't what the relationship was. How could it have been under the circumstances in which we met. The actual evening was very pleasant, talking with his children whom I met for the first time. DJ was intriguing with his pull on a lot of information but as yet delivered with the idealism of a 16 year old with a lot of energy and passion. And J was very graceful in her posture and demeanour. She has a great deal of tolerance it would seem. Whilst she said her English was not good, I thought her pretty good in locution and comprehension. And JH was, well himself I guess. His phone ringing raised the same old questions of wondering who exactly he has on the go these days and a gladness that it matters little to me so long as he is happy with his way of living and he seems so. I am sure there is so much pain for all three as changes continue to take place oh so slowly in their home living. I somehow think this slow change is more drawn out pain than is perhaps bearable. A clean break seems to bring sharp pain in the moment but creates space for healing sooner. That's just my opinion. It appears very "controlled" as in a way of putting off the pain, fear of pain rather than facing it. As I say it's just an opinion and not one that has been invited to impart directly with those concerned. Alors, je vais lasser tombe l'affaire la.
So what were my motives for meeting up. I think there were many. To be friendly because I can and before I go on and reveal other motives I want to restate that first motive as it is above all the most genuine one and most important. The questions as to why I want to remain friendly and open to that is another matter. This was raised this morning and I think it is good not to have so much ill-feeling left in the ether. There is enough anguish and separation and incomplete interrelations. It is good to be able to bring good feeling into things that have long since past. I am in contact with many people from the past. They are good people. Those that are not so good, well they do disappear. But I would be willing to be friendly and pleasant should any single one of them reappear in my life in some way. This is kind and gentle and loving thinking and attitude I believe.
So with JH in the country I do not see anything wrong at all with having met last evening.
I have to get ready to leave soon however I want to talk about the other less pleasant motives.
One was for JH to see me with my new right-sized body. And to witness the more pleasant, loving me rather than the memories of the frantic, aggressively, defensive me. I wanted to show that I am a nice person and much more self-assured without all the chaos. Some of that I think was wanting to take my power back and show that there was some effect of him that affected my attitude and behaviour. So I wanted him still to take some responsibility that at the end seemed as if he was putting all onto me. The thing is I can never get any to take responsibility and I don;t even really want to have to be doing that anymore. All I can do is keep the focus on me.
Another motive? Well to be able to maintain something of a friendship. As with JB I have done that but to be honest JB is very upfront. There is little that is secretive. I don't always agree with his principles on some matters but I very much admire his principles and ethical practice in other ways. He is human after all and I can accept that. And he offers a friendship to me, it's not all self gain. So having experienced that with JB why not JH too?
Also there is some catharsis in meeting and not wanting anymore. That helps with the letting go and the healing of the pain. When wanting still a meeting would be nothing but destructive for me.
So a bundle of drives towards my decision. And overall it was pleasant. The meal was tasty, in fact the seabass was amongst the best I have had for a long time. And it was lovely of JH to treat me to such lovely food. And it was interesting meeting his children after having heard much about them. I think JH really wants for his children to be a part of his life. I wonder how much he listens to their needs. But I have always wondered about that of him with people.
The other element of this is the dishonesty by omission. I feel pretty awful about myself for not having been honest with my sponsor, with friends and with fellows. The meeting up I mean. This is self-will. I had made the decision I was going to do it and I didn't want anyone to tell me not to.
How annoying that I can't stand up and be counted and whether the decision is the right one or the wrong one, people can give me their opinion but not tell me what to do. I have to be ready to do whatever is required. If people cannot be supportive that is their choice. If they want to make judgements and talk about me that is their business. If they want to break away from me that is their prerogative.
I really need to be on my way to A's to drop off LouLou and then wind my way on to work.
There is so much more to write. And I am likening this all along with Paradise Lost. It almost was during my life but somehow I am being show the reprieve. Perhaps I haven't followed the devil entirely I have not given in absolutely to the temptation. The devil has smiled and beguiled and almost won me over on many occasions. I think I may have always felt the heat of the burning inferno but been fearful enough to scrapple backwards somehow and just stay teetering on the edge. Thank goodness God is stronger in my life. God please I pray for the willingness to follow my programme, even though the path narrows. I pray to surrender to you. I pray that my spirit may soar in freedom by so doing. I trust that it will.
There is a lot more to write on this. Whether it will ever get written who knows. I have a lot to ponder
God thank you for this awakening and an opportunity to review and grow
I am committed to not retrurnign to food addiction in action. That means I have to follow a different path to maintain that. Nothing stands alone.

Bliss
XX

Back to Brighton

What a wonderful weekend. Well it feels like I've been away for days when in fact it was Friday night and Saturday.
Friday was pleasant enough. I was of a cheerful mood with L, And at times we even joked about. I had an opportunity to say nice things about her to a colleague within the hospital and leave it there. Despite every ounce of me wanting to make the compliment and then list all the things that were wrong. What is grating but with a smile at myself is that according to a colleague L has been singing my praises (not just mine but P's too) in the management meeting. So she did it first. However, first, second, third, it really doesn't matter. What does matter is that I did it at all. I need to start only saying the positive things. By doing it I felt really good about myself and it spreads goodness not diseased, nastiness.
And a really generous thing about her is that she will always try to accommodate S or I needing to leave early. There is a generosity about her which I could have been taking advantage of in retaliation but now I want to acknowledge graciously and return with putting in my effort to assist her in running a good department and not be against her, battling.
Thank you God for the awareness and the ability to change.

So by about 6pm I was arriving in Brighton. S was already there and had brought N with her. S was so hospitable right from the start. Showing me my room and choosing it for me as it was possible to see the sea from a certain position. It was a comfortable room. I slept well on Friday evening and lovely to be in bed and sleeping by about 10:30. I want earlier nights. I seem to think because I get home so late from work and meetings that I need to extend my time into the night, like it's a need and a right. And yet the only person I am depriving is me. Even last night I got home at about 10pm and was dropping off to sleep with my fingers on the keyboard of my laptop. I took myself off to bed gone 11pm. But that's so much better than usual. God please help me to get myself to bed earlier. It's not that I want you to pick me up and put me to bed, no, no. I know it's my responsibility to take myself to bed. But I ask you for the willingness please.
I was thinking I would get up and go to a car boot sale today. But to be honest the idea of driving backwards and forwards is what put me off. I need to back for the AWOL and then afterwards scoot off to A's for a walk with the dogs. And that will be via Lidl's. So a car boot as well seems unnecessary.
Instead I've had a good talk with my sponsor and a lovely warm but cool morning walk around the village with LouLou.
Lucky me.

So back to Brighton....
On Saturday morning, we were all up and taking our quiet time and making calls. I got up and went and sat in S's summerhouse for my quiet time and phone call. It was delightful. Peaceful. I could already acknowledge feeling safe and B added that I'm amongst fellows and feeling it. I did all the day. I could be me. I was truly enthused by S but I could also feel I needed breaks from her. She dominates the conversations and it's all about her. Which is OK. I don't need it to be any other way and can listen. At the same time I need a rest from that too. I love the relationship she has with her husband. They are so chirpy together. S shared with me that they had had a very difficult time and come through that with added strength. It was OK to have breaks away. I did that sitting quietly on the beach, just nearby everyone. They were all chatting in pairs and it felt perfectly wonderful to be quiet me, listening to the odd word here and there. I had been too uncomfortable to take off my shorts as I hadn't had time to properly prepare myself. I don't even want to write it out of embarrassment for anyone reading this. But I hadn't de-haired. I get embarrassed about this thing believing it is something that should never be talked about, that having hair in intimate places is wrong yet it grows there naturally. And having to de-hair seems as if I am less of a woman. It's almost Victorian it seems to me. The same as women don't sweat they glow. I flipping well sweat!! Therefore I am less of a woman you see and far too manly. I have even wondered if my mum sex-changed me before I would have any memories of that. Mind you I have also wondered if I was her best friends daughter really. I could sit and find resemblances in my looks and yet anyone who sees me remarks on how similar to my mum I actually am. Crazy? I know I am paranoid in funny ways. As B says I need to recognise the paranoia and then drop it immediately.
After breakfast S drove us all to the FA meeting in Brighton. It was so lovely. I met in person with people I have either spoken to once or not at all. I will make an effort to contact these people more often.
I asked E if I could visit her studio. She was so gracious in agreeing as I know she was incredibly tired. And oh my goodness what an honour it was. A fantastic working studio with pieces of work that just blew me away. She is working on an exhibition entitled Revelations and her work is inspired by Paradise Lost by Milton. Really, these pieces of work just blew me away. And our discussion too. FA has released something in her that it expressed so vividly. What it has done is enabled her to observe the emotions from a position on personal experience and growing knowledge and awareness but without being in the darkness of it. She can really exemplify what it was feeling like to wake up to the realisation of what the fallen angels had forsaken. And those moments before turning into the living hell they had descended to. The image of that despair and woe and shame and horror. And my knowing that being there would gradually use that to turn into bitterness and twisted attitudes. With an opening like that hell becomes integral not separate. Somehow God and heaven is not something that crawls in. God's grace is already and integral part of me. It is there to be sparked and ignited and emanate. It is different, it does not come from outside, whereas hell takes advantage to suck into the external environment to use the dark crevices that exist. They are to be ignored at ones peril. It is important to vigilantly guard the dark crevices and ask God's help to close them off. Will they ever be gone completely? Probably on my deathbed, until then it is my job to become more and more aware.
I have a funny sense around D. A few things have raised my suspicions, such as control. Specifically it was at a London meeting I attended when I noticed a very controlling manner about her, speaking for the group, making decisions for everyone and directing. I didn't react, I simply observed. I am also uncertain when speaking with her. Am I too suspicious? Others seem friendly enough and is this me being discerning and needing to trust my instincts or is this me be judgemental and negative. perhaps I am jealous of something. I do feel some jealousy actually. Knowing she has been visiting before and there was a sort of air of possession about her. I am not really sure what it is but my outward feelings are a sign I need to just observe myself and learn what this is about, so help me God. And my suspicions were raised further regarding my plastic boxes. I had brought in my boxes from Fridays lunch and they had been washed up and piled on a side with some others. As I was packing yesterday I went an reclaimed them. later on D said "oh I had piled all my plastic boxes together here and some have gone". I absolutely know they are mine. I didn't say anything and so haven't handled that well but I am left wondering why she was claiming my boxes. If I was a better person I suppose I would have said oh those I thought were mine that I brought in with me on Friday. And if she had insisted I would have just let her knowingly. As it is I am left with suspicions about her which add to a sense of discomfort about her.
I don't get a sense of suspicion about V but I do find her quite difficult to find a common thread with for discussion. Actually I think I quite like her. It was nice on Friday to be sharing experiences about drug use. I know she struggles with food recovery as she has been going to FA for 6 years I think she said and just keeps on relapsing. She currently has 4 months abstinence. Please God I can stay abstinent with your help. I think to start relapsing seems to flipping painful and then becomes part of the routine. I so don't want that.
Anyway E's studio was a highlight for me. If ever I can afford a piece of her work I would be honoured to own it and treasure it. She has also inspired me to read Paradise Lost, almost the prequel to Revelations.
Oh cute - G had made S a little box f word cards. And every meal she sits and takes a card, then thinking about what that Means to her. My first word was God. Wow! I shared that I feel closer to God than ever before in my life and how incredibly wonderful that is in bringing faith. What I didn't say is all that God means to me. I don't think it's possible to put into words. I have feelings about it. Sometimes it's as if I've taken a deep breath of fresh air just after sucking a mint, sometimes it's the feeling of the warmth sun penetrating right through to my bones, sometimes it's the thought of the neurons all electrified creating the thought therefore electrifying therefore thought, sometimes it's the passion that arises from being in the presence of a wonderful piece of art, sometimes its the sound of the sea crashing in or gently swooping out, sometimes it's the colour of the skies, sometimes it's the revelation of knowledge, of clarity. Sometimes it's the sound of laughter, sometimes it's the rain, sometimes, it's the moon, sometimes it's the night and then the dawn and then the day and then the dusk. It's the awe of history and time and space, its the wonder of change, it's the safety in faith. It's abundance, it's love, it's bliss, it's truth. It's EVERYTHING and how that makes me smile. It's being pleasant and loving towards EVERYONE. It's time with people and memories of people, it's experiences and cognition. It's delight and fun and profound. It's light and it's dark sometimes too. It's hills, it's trees, it's sky, it's bouncy green grass, it's life, it's death.

How do I love D for example? I can pray for her. I will speak with someone about the boxes and how I'm feeling about it. I guess I need to expel the whole thought process knowing that the focus is on me and discover gradually what it is all about. And also how I could have handled the moment better?
Actually I realised that I would rather speak with B about this. Talking to anyone else could feel uncomfortable for me.

It was something quite warm when G invited me to sit down with her for a while. I will try to remember that for times when I am sitting and can see someone looking and incite them to join me. I felt special and that's lovely. Sitting chatting with her was very calming too. I am excited for her havng this lovely relationship developing. I hope it continues. And it's encouraging. She is very glaourous though. I commented on that and she was disappointed wanting to be funky. We are never happy with compliments. I feel fat and oafish and yet I'm slim. The photos of me are so unattractive too.

V and I left towards Brighton. We had our supper sitting on the beach. It was lovely. He asked me about children and despite my shame and embarrassment I told him about TOP's. Phew it's difficult to even write the words. And my mixed up feelings about all of this. Even as I was talking I didn;t want to admit to myself that it would have been nice to ave had a child. I force myself to not want to have them or had them. I made this happen and have never permitted the maternal instinct apart from on one or two occasions. But I think there's something natural in that too. It didn't really arise because I have never been settled. I've never been in a relationship that was settled and every time I knew it. It was never forever.
I should like to share that with V too. It's not something I've even admitted to myself let alone anyone else. There's a sort of cold bravado about being a woman and not wanting children. It makes me different from the norm. It makes me heartless in appearance too I think and that's what I wanted to portray, nothing not even maternalism could get through to me.
It's so sad. Why? Well I think messages from my dad about the weakness of women and his distinct disapproval of that was a big part of that. And I guess his influence came from somewhere too. I know he despised his mother and I think by the sounds of it was depressed. He wasn't going to allow anything to make him an emotional person. And I think he was angry with ehr too for driving his father away. And as a little boy he admired his father. Of course he more than likely was unaware of any difficulties between his morhter and father. And then he was evacuated. Separated from both of them. How absolutely terrible that must have been for the children and the parents. And then he says that it was a horrible environment where the people were cruel to him and Uncle Mick. I wonder what Uncle Mick might remember about it?

And eventually V and I headed towards the station. He got home hopefully in time for his beloved football. And today can watch as re-watch teh highlights. I pray God that you can help him stick with abstinence and truly become all he is meant to be. What a lovely man V is. If he's an addict God and it seems to me as an outside observer he is, then please help him to find his way to commit to FA. He has a lot to achieve with his skills and experiences.

As I journeyed home I wanted to speak with J. Her text informing me that there are new polie enquiries into her sisters murder really interests me. I have no idea why it interests me so much. It is not in a hapy clapy way but in a tragically sad way. One moment a family is tripping along with every day struggles and strifes and then something snuffs that all out and a little girl is murdered. Dead. And how on earth can someone do that to a teenage girl or anyone indeed? It is so out of my knowledge and experience that it creates an curiosity in me. I want too to be able to offer support as a friend. J does not think there are residual feelings but I hear anger. She is placing it on the woman she believes has re-opened investigations. The police would not give any information even when she enquired if it's related to this girl. She was a friend of J's at a very young age, I think at primary school or infant's school. They stopped being friends at an early age too, just how things worked out. But some time ago this girl wrote to J's mother apparently. And forgive me for not getting the details correctly remembered but it seems that this person has revealed that J's sister had actualy introduced her to the killer at some point. I think that's what J said. J is so angry with her wondering why she couldn't let it all go after all this time, not undertanding that some people can't get over the trauma that simply. perhaps J has let it all go. I suspect it's more suppressed than dealt with. J is angry that it's all being dragged up again for her mother who is in her 70's.
It's odd that this has come up when Ian Bradley has supposedly revealed the whereabouts of Keith Thomas's brother. And at the coincidental timing of Keith's mother. She died yesterday morning with Cancer. She had spent her life time attempting to find the location of his body wanting a Christian burial. Did Brady know? Did he really reveal the whereabouts. And the arrest of the woman who allegely knew the details, arrested for subverting the course of justice or somethng. Was that real or a set up? Why do women visit these men in prison? And yet here I am morbidly curious myself. I want to be able to support J if she does need support in any way that I can. I do not want to try and give her therapy and yet I do, believing that there are undealt with issues when she doesn't. She didsay that reading the information she located online has

No more will get finished now as I am back at school - and get totally hamererd

Bliss
XX

TIQ

I noticed this morning that I was quite intolerant with L. But realising it helped me to invited God in and the rest of the day was different. She certainly seems different, not so critical.
It does help that I am much less intense, light and breezy whilst also stating my opinion and ideas. Then remaining open and receptive.
This evening I met with JH and his children for dinner. The George was pretty good actually. East Meon. They were very good at providing my abstinent food.
The conversation mainly centred around JH's children. That was OK.
I feel some sadness. Sad that JH wasn't the person I hoped he would be when I first started feeling more for him than the sordid underworld we indulged in.
I am aware that I can still feel easily excited by that dark behaviour but I want better for myself. And I also am not interested in a relationship where there are other women. So it was certainly right to go our separate ways. But of course the nice things are still nice. Honesty is so critically important.
And on this matter it makes me smile. I was talking with M prior to meeting JH and didn't tell her. I have sine told her and she said she could sense something was not right but didn't know what. Now she does.
I am full of fear of judgement and taking responsibility leave some vulnerable to being criticised. I am gradually getting there. The funny thing is that on many. many levels I am honest and decent. I am honourable and trustworthy in many areas. But create this distrust when fears stop me being honest. It is such a mental illness.
Interesting how JH thought there is a bigger problem in the UK with alcohol. Who really knows but what I do know is that there are NA and AA meetings in abundance all over the world. But that's to deal with addition. Not everyone is an addict yet abuses alcohol. I guess those people that continue when others stop and trudge through consequences, then there is an addiction problem.
It's interesting how there is a derogatory tone that emanates from many people talking about alcohol use without knowing the illness of addiction.
And it's not just about the alcohol or the drug. The illness involves dishonesty, negativity, self-hatred, self-centredness, and more.
It's all of these things that need addressing just as much as the substance or addictive behaviour i.e. gambling, food, and more.
But these cannot be worked on until the initial mind-altering behaviour is abstained from.

It irritates me that L uses the TIQ thingy she reads out. It's inaccurate. It has some truths but the research has far disproven some of what is being advocated and also enhanced on some ideas too.
I am not asked for an opinion about these things so no longer give them. It also puts and emphasis on blaming something. Anyway it's done and that' s that. Thank goodness I can also be opened minded and recognise that it does seem to help some people. Anything that lightens the path so that someone might take it is goo news.
And after all I am constantly wanting her to buy something.

Right I'm off to bed.
Thank you God for a day of abstinence. Thank you God for highlighting my truth and how much I need to take responsibility for it on all occasions. Learning, learning, learning. And as that's my passion what more could a weekend bring. Despite some fatigue here and there.

Bliss
XX

More on humility

Humility for Today

by Bill W.

AA Grapevine, June 1961

There can be no absolute humility for us humans. At best, we can only glimpse the meaning and splendor

of such a perfect ideal. As the book "Alcoholics Anonymous" says: "We are not saints. . .we claim spiritual

progress rather than spiritual perfection." Only God Himself can manifest in the Absolute; we human

beings must needs live and grow in the domain of the relative. We seek humility for today.

Therefore our practical question is this: "Just what do we mean by 'humility for today' and how do we know

when we have found it?"

We scarcely need be reminded that excessive guilt or rebellion leads to spiritual poverty. But it was a very

long time before we knew we could go even more broke on spiritual pride. When we early AAs got our

first glimmer of how spiritually prideful we could be, we coined this expression: "Don't try to get too

damned good by Thursday!" That old-time admonition may look like another of those handy alibis that can

excuse us from trying for our best. Yet a closer view reveals just the contrary. This is our AA way of

warning against pride-blindness, and the imaginary perfections that we do not possess.

Now that we no longer patronize bars and bordellos; now that we bring home the pay checks; now that we

are so very active in AA; and now that people congratulate us on these signs of progress--well, we naturally

proceed to congratulate ourselves. Yet we may not be within hailing distance of humility. Meaning well,

yet doing badly, how often have I said or thought, "I am right and you are wrong," "My plan is correct and

yours is faulty," "Thank God your sins are not my sins," "You are hurting AA and I'm going to stop you

cold," "I have God's guidance, so He is on my side." And so on, indefinitely.

The alarming thing about such pride-blindness is the ease with which it is justified. But we need not look

far to see that this deceptive brand of self-justification is a universal destroyer of harmony and of love. It

sets man against man, nation against nation. By it, every form of folly and violence can be made to look

right, and even respectable. Of course it is not for us to condemn. We need only investigate ourselves.

How, then, can we do more and more about reducing our guilt, rebellion and pride?

When I inventory such defects, I like to draw a picture and tell myself a story. My picture is that of a

Highway to Humility, and my story is an allegory. On one side of my Highway, I see a great bog. The

Highway's edge borders a shallow marsh which finally shelves down into that muddy morass of guilt and

rebellion in which I have so often floundered. Self-destruction lies in wait out there, and I know this. But

the country on the other side of the road looks fine. I see inviting glades, and beyond them great mountains.

The countless trails leading into this pleasant land look safe. It will be easy, I think, to find one's way back.

Together with numbers of friends, I decide to take a brief detour. We pick our path and happily plunge

along it. Elatedly, somebody soon says, "Maybe we'll find gold on top of that mountain." Then to our

amazement we do strike gold--not nuggets in the streams, but fully minted coins. The heads of these coins

each declare, "This is pure gold--twenty-four carats." Surely, we think, this is the reward for our patient

plodding back there in the everlasting brightness of the Highway.

Soon, though, we begin to notice the words on the tails of our coins, and we have strange forebodings:

Some pieces carry rather attractive inscriptions. "I am Power," "I am Acclaim," "I am Wealth," "I am

Righteousness," they say. But others seem very strange. For example: "I am The Master Race," "I am The

Benefactor," "I am Good Causes," "I am God." This is very puzzling. Nevertheless we pocket them. But

next come real shockers. They read: "I'm Pride," "I'm Anger," "I'm Aggression," "I'm Revenge," "I'm

Disunity," "I'm Chaos." Then we turn up a single coin--just one--which declares: "I am the Devil himself."

Some of us are horrified and we cry, "This is fool's gold, and this is a fool's paradise--let's clear out of

here!"

The colour virtue

Darn it! I wrote out here in this very page the extent of my anger. And blow me over with a feather the flipping thing crashed temporarily and all of my words have gone. Gone into the ether. And what's left? No anger. It's passed. It was in relation to spending time this evening with someone so very dear to me who in my opinion is in the very pits of this disease of addiction. Right now I feel sad to the point of tears, which is the next phase. I was so relieved I picked up the phone to SS and roared my anger out to her knowing that she could hold it and not try to fix it. She related and understood this horrible feeling of powerless. I cannot do a thing to help as hard as I try with talk and ideas and love. It just doesn't get through. And that's so tragic. I will not abandon her which is what people have said to do. I did in the early days of recovery from alcohol but the renewal of the friendship was always essential. A sad waste of someone so talented and clever. Please God I pray for A.
Thank you God for my awareness and for showing me how to do this differently. I knew I needed to speak to someone and to speak to someone impartially was just what I needed.
And also with L today. That was the other thing I had been writing about vigorously. I came across L talking to F (HD). I heard her say "this morning" and "she". As I was the only one in with her this monring I started thinking all sorts of things she was saying that would be lies. Thank goodness I didn;t do what I wanted to do and that was to listen in. After all there I was yesterday saying to a client about the self inflicted torture because he is reading texts and online messages that are truth but hurtful. It's none of my business. And what I did have was God. I asked God for help. I put my turst in God that whatever was being said, I would be OK. It's pride. Me wanting people to think well of me and the injustice of someone lying about me and disparaging my good name. Especially as here I am maing big changes. I need to start saying good things only about her. I need to stop doing that to her. It's a horrid feeling. I've known it before. The fear of being defamed and often with someone else's issues leading the defamation. Treat others as I would like to be treated myself.
Thank you God for guiding me. I feel better about myself too so thank you God for that too.
And this evening I feel very honoured that a friend was able to share a little of themselves. I know it's nothing to do with me but to be present at the moment that person was able to verbalise some deep truths and put trust in being heard - well I am blown away. Thank you God for guiding that person and I pray for them. I know the changes that are taking place in me are just beginnings and there for his taking to.
Thank you God for so much and everything. I pray for more of course - well I am an addict after all. ;)

It's bedtime despite the colour virtue not being finished. I want to continue watching the WHITE programme. I found the BLUE programme fascinating. I will need to watch the GOLD programme as I skimped it. Colour will be talked about by Stephen Fry too on Radio 4. Sometimes wotk just gets int he way. Thank you God for iPlayer. Convenient.

Nighty night and thanks for the release from anger and the amusing way of taking it right away. Gone, for tonight.
oh thank you God for keeping me abstinent today. Amazing, truly!!

Bliss
xx

ps - some more darn it's. I've had a few hot flushes over the past few days. Today they were bigger than yesterday. I hope this doesn't mean they are coming back along with a whole host of other symptoms. Tedious and horrible. I thought I was done and dusted with that!! Poop!

White may be the darkest colour of them all? The purest colour became tainted.
White came to symbolise an enlightened world. But was used to divide and control and then finally to conquer.......

25 Sep 1938 - The Director of the British Museum was on his rounds - but unbeknownst to him an incident was taking place in the basement. Cleaning was taking place of some objects, some of the most prized possessions, the Elgin Marbles.
A number of sculptures. They were once painted in rich colours that had washed away. But at one point we were convinced they had always been wither and were being made whiter than ever before.
The Director put a stop to the cleaning - the culprit - Joseph Devene. He thought the marbles were too brown and believed they should be white. This action had not been approved by the Museum.

The intrigue of white = why was Devene so desperate that the sculptures should be white and so white. The Greek sculptors when to lengths to painting away the white.
Planting white at the centre of European culture was Johann Joaquin Winkelmann, born in 1717 in eastern Germany. He was an intellectual and wanting to set foot in the cosmopolitan areas.
He arrived in Dresden and discovered
He found a store of ancient white statues in all shaped and sizes. There were plenty for hm to feat his eyes on and of the most wonderful. He there and then dedicated his life to persuade others of the beauty.
in 1755 he found a city littered with white columns and so on from ages past. He started recording all the marble he found. The Belvedere Torso and others.
His records got him noticed by the Vatican. He set eyes on the Apollo Belvedere. A copy of which in in Soanes house. This one in the Vatican was believed to be a copy of a Greek original carved in about 300BC


What's truly surprising apart from being the most beautiful man, is it's whiteness. This sculpture shows how sophisticated the ancient Greeks really were.
White symbolised health, simplicity, reason and more.
He celebrated the whiteness of this art.
We should feel indebted by Winkelmann for inspiring the future.
Whiteness is purity. Winklemann's dream of filling the world with this purest antiquity.
An elegant building - home of Britain's most famous potter. Wedgwood. A giant of the enlightenment
He was the grandfather of Charles Darwin - wow
He was a Winkelmann disciple sharing a love for white antiquity.
Voltaire the philosopher, Joseph Banks, botanist,
Wedgwood was determined to bring the sculptor to the edge of comfort an then let them go.
His family were unperturbed and yet I don't see any activity

It was very difficult to reproduce a paint that getting to a white glaze was a constant disappointment for M.
The first great white glaze ....
He turned out a seres of beautiful whits pots.

Neoclassical consists of flutes and columns. As well as available space. I could not imagine anyone coming here!!!!

White had conquered Europe through Winkelmann.
Mid 18th century - a transformation about the way we view white and art.
1859 a  young man married on out shoes - please can you cover today for me

Smidgenless control

Of course, you can't control other people, Bliss. Not even a little; not a smidge. Every man and woman is their own sailing vessel powered by their own thoughts, emotions, and imagination. You can't improve their smile, nor even add to their woes, unless, at some level, they let you.
So, does that pretty much clear up the effect others can have on you?
You rule,
    The Universe

Perfectly - now I know that intellectually but putting in the action to follow up my knowledge, well that's another thing all together. And so much harder to do when I'm tired. I have no business being tired and need to get to bed earlier. That's insanity - knowing I need sleep and pushing it to way beyond the limits.
Universe please help me find the willingness to go to bed early. I get resentful as I arrive home late from work, prepare my meals for the next day and then want to sit and do me things which means I go to bed way later than I need to. I need to find a way to accept this is the way tings are and get to bed early anyway. Well being first, which means letting go of desires.

Thanks
Bliss

xx

Museums - A great British and Soanes day

What a wonderfully mind expanding day. Usually it's after the event that I can really assimilate what I've seen and what I've taken in. I think it was delightful that G and I went up regardless that A bailed out. In the past we have said we'll go anyway and she has ended up coming but this time - no! She is in a real withdrawn state. And when she asked about her size on Friday that was further alarm bells. I can relate to it. It's probably very different thinking but the outcome is the same but A denies it all vehemently blaming money or something else. She will never own that there is a problem with her mental state. I know that too. I fought and fought against it and still can do that. Gradually I've come to deeper understanding and acceptance that I have a mental illness. To be honest I think everyone has mental issues of some variation and to differing degrees. I think my own has escalated over the years. When feeling overweight ad over-sized that has really compounded the necessity to stay out of the general day to day of adventure and socialising. I just have felt so exposed and dreadful about myself. And my hatred for myself is what I project onto others. It's so refreshing and freeing to feel right-sized. I get a natural confidence, not something I need to think about, but I can just go about my business and follow my desires without being hampered by the way I think about my size or about wanting food all the time too.
So yesterday off we trundled to London. I had checked the buses and we exited from Waterloo straight to the bust stop and a bus came long almost immediately. The bus was empty and we sat straight down. I wanted to make the day as easy and smooth as I could for G. I think it all happened seamlessly. Good.
We got off and walked through to Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was interesting being there again but the novelty or need to exorcise the area has since gone having walked by there several times. I pointed out where I used to work. There has always for me been a memory of gloominess about that part of Holborn. It seems grey and crowded in to me. I recalled how in the first days of joining Hogg Robinson Craven House, Kingsway, I used to take my lunch and eat in Lincoln's Inn Fields. I felt quite lonely there to begin with. But I soon started making friends with the lot that went to the pub. I think it was probably Derek that first invited me to go along. There were so few women there. and the drinking eased the situation, there was a common theme. I don't think I was really into the drinking heavily until I went there. When I was in Farnham I had started going to the wine bar with Jane every lunch time when we were allowed. In fact Margaret used to actually encourage us to meet in there. However I think she developed something she regretted. Jane definitely used to drink too much. I could see then she had a problem but her friend Angela was worse or so Jane pointed out. They were always drinking together ironically. So perhaps the drinking had started to take off. It was appealing to drink every lunchtime and it was more about the atmosphere and socialising then but of course really I was shy. The food was definitely already an issue. I was fat/thin/fat/thin and that had been going on since I was 17 years old. The lunchtime drinking started when I was about 23 years old when I left BA and joined Hogg Robinson, Farnham.
So anyway, crossing over Kingsway and winding down the narrow street of Gate Street, where some homeless people are often hanging out waiting for their bed for the night or their food I suppose. There were none along there this day but I think there were a few in the square sunbathing when we stopped for lunch. It was just all so familiar. What amazes me is how closed to knowledge I was. All that time I was around the corner from Sir John Soanes Museum and I was never interested enough for it to have been brought to my attention.

 These two are not homeless I don't think, I  just liked the blue and orange.

Not sure if this guy is homeless but amused me his hat pulled down over his face, sleeping in the hot sun at lunchtime.



Winding through Gate Street is how I imagine London of old. The narrow streets and darkness, a little of Dickens London is conjured. And then breaking free into the lovely Lincoln's Inn Fields. We walked along and there we were at No. 12. What an amazing house. What a collector Lord Soanes was. I will post here the pages of the little booklet.
What I have learnt so far is that John Soanes wasn't a wealthy man but managed to get to the RA and studied architecture. He was the architect of the Bank of England although apparently a lot has been changed since originally built to his design. And many of his designs were never built and some have since been destroyed. How tragic. He designed a palace that was to be built on Constitution Hill. Where is Constitution Hill? Oh it's by Green Park on the way to Buckingham Palace. Why on earth would they want another palace by THE palace? Well clearly they didn't. It looked gorgeous though.
He won a scholarship to RA - a travelling scholarship apparently. His talent was spotted and he was mixing in the right circles. He married an heiress but surely an architect in those days would have been a high earner anyway no? Aha, apparently he could earn 5% of the buildings value. A considerable amount I would imagine for say the Bank of England but no doubt income was sporadic to begin with. His wife though inherited and it is with her money that he could set up his home.

I must go food shopping darn it as I'm enjoying this learning - then it'll be AWOL time. Oh well. I'll do as much as I can and for as long as I'm interested. It just makes the history hang together to encounter these people from the past and link the with buildings. I truly do find this all so fascinating and alive despite them being so long gone. Their legacy lives on.

OK Back from shopping and bloody hell I stopped at the little market and spent a further £15 on a little silver bracelet. I like it. But I really can't afford these little treats. After all I spent over £40 yesterday on being out and about and a wonderful book on Hogarth's paintings.

A Rakes Progress - this was the real draw for me after learning that Grayson Perry was inspired by this series by William Hogarth ... I appreciate his satirical look at life.

The Heir

 The Levee

The Orgy

 The Arrest

 The Marriage

 The Gaming House

  The Prison

 The Mad house (Bedlum)

All 8 paintings and these were actually acquired by Eliza for approximately £600.
I loved them and could have spent a lot longer examining them.





Anyway Sir John (not Lord) Soanes born in 1753 and died in 1837 (the year of Queen Victoria's accession to the throne) making him 83/4 when he died. A long old life. His was an unhappy life though. He and his wife had four sons, two of whom died in early childhood. I guess that was fairly usual in the 18th century. Then one of them died when he was in his thirties. The other was a gambler and Sir John accused him of contributing towards Eliza's death.
So I've just read that Parliament had made King George king of England. They were intent on keeping a protestant line when Queen Anne had not borne any heirs. So the House of Hanoverian took over. King George was apparently a pretty absent King spending most time in his home of Hanover. He didn't speak much English. This really was a sign of the inefficacy of the monarch really. Parliament ran the show absolutely and truly since the civil war. That was when? 1653 to 1659.
A Canaletto - what an incredible painter ....

AWOL time and then lunch and then straight out for a meet up with A. This will all have to wait especially as I've realised the number of Kings and Queens that I've really not paid any attention to. Fascinating.

The AWOL was just brilliant. Step Two. Reading about the insanity. The sharing as always so helpful on the subject of insanity. I recognise that without the food I am still completely insane. This insanity spreads further than the addiction itself and of course the insanity will lead back to using. I can see the insanity manifesting as negativity towards myself or towards others. And also in honesty versus dishonesty. There are things I don't want to give up, such as downloading. And it's easier to pick up a lie rather than be honest and take responsibility for myself. For example when missing the call to my sponsor on Tuesday morning. I was so afraid of being disapproved of and the internal shame that would bring not to mention the fear of being rejected that I said I'd called and it was engaged and so got distracted. Wow! All too easy to lie than take responsibility. I was glad to take responsibility after that. And then the dishonesty through omission. I have not said that I've chosen to go out for a meal. And I am and I will if the invite is still there. I have no intention of not going. And yet I haven't aid this to my sponsor. This is the insanity. The insanity also involves the food of course. You know what I mean? Eating too much food and expecting to remain slim. Then using laxatives to overcome the over eating despite creating stomach problems and living in fear of causing serious problems. And the consequences of using laxatives have been so embarrassing. And yet still taking them despite the risk of the same happening. But now the eating of food is the very last part of any relapse. The slip starts long before with the negativity, the resentments, the comparison, the judgements, the mania, the expectation, the self hatred, the dishonesty, the fear and so on. And it's at this point I need to start using the tools I've been shown. Quiet time, prayer on my knees, readings, calling out, speaking honestly with my sponsor, whatever it takes to ensure I stay away from the insanity of the various shapes of negativity.
So yes this first week of Step Two has been so enlightening already. And this past week I think I've been living it. I've been more acceptant of the situation just as it is with L and with my father. And so by being acceptant I haven't gone into being unmanageable. Well apart from Monday night Tuesday morning which was a degree of manic behaviour because I was so terrified. In fairness to little me I hadn't realised quite how terrified I was and this seemed to have nowhere else to go except in manic behaviour. And then of course the lie to my sponsor occurred which was actually a decision and insane. There was no rational reason or need for a lie but this then feeds the unmanageability because at some level I feel guilty and ashamed and uncomfortable so my self-esteem is affected too. It's the vicious cycle.
So having accepted that's what I did I can take responsibility for that and pray to God to help me to move away from such behaviours as well as ask God for help in identifying my responses and reactions. And I am thankful to God for the awareness even so. It was with awareness that I did make phone calls and speak about the escalating mania. I got some suggestions, followed them and the mania dwindled and I could function even though on high energy, the silliness didn't ensue. My goodness, thank you God.
Get it? It's so flipping simple and yet all these years I've been intellectualising something I wasn't really getting at a deep heart-felt and soul level. This week I actually experienced it and have felt the shift and moments of serenity and feeling OK about myself and OK towards L. She is an oddball that's for sure however I can get along with her and let her be. If I can do that then maybe something will shift in her. In the meantime I will keep asking for God to help me to be how He would ant me to be. Those people thinking I'm suddenly religious couldn't be further from the truth. And those who say they are atheist - well I'm right there with you. How do I explain this coming to sanity through a Higher Power? I am a part of the Higher Power, as is everyone else exactly as they are, as is everything exactly as it is. I can't explain it other than that. It's  not religious doctrine that I speak of but something way beyond that. It's not afterlife or making a way back to the creator. And yet it's all about creativity and love and legacy etc. That's all little parts that make up the whole.
I have belief in this even though I cannot put it into words. And blimey there are far more educated people that I who have tried to put it into words and then blow me over it becomes a religion. No, no, no. This is private and personal, I would lend it to anyone who needs it. But I cannot explain it and actually I don't want to. It is what it is, there are no rules to it, there are no expectations, there are no conditions. It is just there for the taking.

Well that's way of course from earlier this morning. I have had such a full weekend you see.
I went to Hinton Ampner House, Hinton Ampner. It's about 15 minutes drive from me. I met with A and we went off for a visit around the stately home first of all. A real bonus that for today if I gave some details I could enter free on A's membership. Fantastic. A saving of £8.50 when I've spent such a lot on myself this weekend. I bought a water and made a 50p donation to the little church for the candle I lit with my mum in mind. That's not so bad.
Lord Ralph Dutton, I like the name Ralph actually, was the 8th and last Baron of Shelborne. He died with no heirs. I suspect he was gay but gosh do I jump to assumptions. His hone was beautiful though. He was a great collector of stone tables, Lapis Lazuli, blue john and Egyptian porphyry amongst very plain marbles. An amazing amassment of glorious stones. And wooden tables as well as desks, incredible vases, busts, paintings. A real treasure trove all donated to the National Trust on his death because none of his distance relatives would probably have loved and nurtured it as he did. So to preserve it he donated it.
The home was very homely in its grandeur and I could clearly imagine the weekend guests there. A and I were choosing our room and enjoying settling in to the weekend stay. In the dining room we chatted amongst the other guests over breakfast overlooking the wonderful gardens to the rear and enjoying the early morning mists rising over the fields, not another human in sight. The chatter was all about the plans for the day. Ralph had laid on some riding and a party in the evening. I was suspicious of Georgina having an affair with Lord Scott. They exchanged glances all last evening and continued to do so this morning. I think they have plans. A said she would follow them secretly when they go off for their next stroll in the gardens. So many places to secrete and affair without being spotted from the house at all. Typical me, I was looking forward to my romp with the extraordinarily good looking gardener. Lady Chatterley without the lady bit. Why couldn't I be interested in the rather dashing looking but extremely boring Lieutenant Rogers. He was a socialite with money. He wouldn't stay interested for long but dinner had been so tedious. At least Ralph, gay or not, knew how to not only look dashing but act dashing. Rogers was, well dull of conversation. I want lively. Cecilia was tiresome too. Poor A got really caught up in discussion with her. As always I got engrossed in conversation after dinner with the famous psychiatrist, discussing passionately our theories on healing. I am sure Rogers found that tiresome being of military background and no truck with matters of the mind other than strategy, the rest was emotionless and brawn. I adored the fay Emilia. I noticed Ralph rather entertained by her. The epitome of the creative, ooooohing and aaaaahing at all the treasures and quite unrefined about it. Gushing with ideas for her next works inspired by Ralph's collections. of course he loved this. And I think secretly pleased when I commented on the dreadful clock. I didn't mean to offend but when I said it was like something you won at the fun fair for shooting the birdie, he squirmed slightly.
Bouncing on my bed I was excited about the party. Would he be inviting more guests. I watched and watched Ralph to see if he was attracted to any particular women or one or two of the young whipper snapper men he always seemed to have invited. Who they were always seemed a mystery to me.
The staff seemed so loyal to Ralph too. Well who wouldn't be, he was so gentle.
How exactly did they keep their fortunes going, this family? Obviously being a baron brought it's dues I imagine. His title of Baron entitled him automatically to be involved with Parliament so I guess people would always want him about and I would imagine companies paid dues in some way for his name to be involved in their business. He wrote books but I doubt they would fetch the kind of money it would take to run his estate. Staff didn't live in other than his butler. Now of course they were incredibly close. All his friends are high business men and titled. He is not so involved with the creatives other than the odd one or two like Emilia. He certainly has adventurers, pioneers around him though. I wonder if they are always pestering him for money?
Born in 1898 and died in 1985, his father seems to be an active politician, holding a seat for his area of Hampshire in Parliament. That of course brings wealth. I think there were earlier fortunes made from the wool industry. Of course money makes money. But often we learn of these titled families with assets such as properties etc but without the cash flow to be able to really live according to their title and supposed status. I am not a supporter of the aristocracy being more of a socialist to some degree but not the whole way. However, it is interesting learning about them and how they pillage their fortunes. OK, OK, aristocracy I'm only joking - sort of.
So Ralph was around when Queen Victoria was still reigning, but of course he lived into Kings Edward VII George V, Edward VIII, George VI and Queen Elizabeth. My goodness he would have seem some changes in everything, socially, culturally, scientifically, politically, economically, fashions. He also lived through two world wars. Crikey! What a life he experienced.
In the chapel there appeared to be a sister mentioned.
Anyway it was lovely afternoon out. I noticed how A analyses and talks about recovery all these years on and blames, no not blames, but the focus in mainly on I. She is somehow keeping the focus just about on herself and has years of experience in recovery to be able to do this. However she is new into this committed relationship. She quickly adds that they have some really lovely times but all she ever talks about are the difficulties. And the healing of the inner child and the process etc. Thank goodness I can sit and listen to that with some interest but I also hear an analysis and not how she is living through it. I probably do but I am not listening to that bit because it doesn't seem to be the loudest bit.
She showed me their 20 week scan pictures. And there is a 90 per cent chance it's a little girl. Inevitably we talked about names. A asked about me, I summed up quickly. I don't know why. I didn't need to go into analysis this time just that this has how it's been and this is how I've been dealing with it. I think I was all positive actually. I feel all positive.
I left it with A to contact M to see if there's a date we can all meet together for a walk. I will wait to hear. A and I didn't arrange another meet at this time. She didn't offer and neither did I. I do feel that she is all wrapped up in her relationship and the baby and so on. She has a very regular connection with her family of origin let alone with I. I suggested we meet up one time for a meal out to get to know hm better. She suggested a lunch - I'll send her a list of Sundays I could make it bearing in mind I have my AWOL. It would have to therefore be local and a late lunch place. I wonder if the Lord Thomas serves late on Sundays. There may be places that do all day servings. I'll ask her, she might have more time to research it.
I offered a very good plumber - D. If she doesn't hear from hers that could be some business for him and a good worker for them.
Finally I have emailed to suggest the lunch with I. Let's see what happens.

So meanwhile back to yesterday. I'm a little tired as things have moved on already.
After the Soanes G and walked up to the British Museum. We both went and looked at the Rosetta Stone. Again for both of us. Amazing really that they deciphered so much from it.

I know they're not clear. I'm sorry.

I then scooted off to The Horse: from Arabia to Royal Ascot. An exhibition that was really quite interesting, bringing artefact's together in the name of the horse.

I really was taken by Ahmed Moustafa's Horse and Horseman.
Painted using Islamic calligraphy. In real life it was stunning. The blues and gold really captivating. Somehow the horseman lets it down for me. He doesn't do the horse justice nor the splendour of the colours. But I love the capture of the Arabian horse truly I do.
The Arabian horse can be traced genetically through most race horse. This doesn't surprise me I suppose.
There was an exquisite shadow puppet. And this raised an interest in these puppets.
There were some absolutely beautiful Qurans on display. The association is that the horse is mentioned throughout the Quran apparently. But these were truly like jewels.
And of amazing draw was a Rembrandt sketch. Apparently he did 21 drawings inspired by the Moghul miniatures -

 
I truly loved this. Yep this is the one I wanted the most.
It was an interesting exhibition. I liked the idea of a theme that brought many things together. Including the Queen's colours. And photos of her receiving the winners cup in some race or other. HM was receiving it from her hubby Prince Philip. That must be funny for them really.

There was a Persian saying - say flower hear flower.
I noted it without really absorbing the relevance and now can't find anything about it.

I want sketches by Rembrandt ...

This is a photo of one of the sketches. I loved it.

It was amongst the sketches by Picasso - it was a delight seeing these. He was a genius too.

This is another photo I took of one of Picasso's sketches of Vollard. Vollard was a renowned art dealer. Now this is an area that so far I am unaware. A little like curating. All the layers are peeling back. It's interesting to learn about other angles of the worlds into which I dip. It's not just about the gallery and the contents or a play and the actors. There are themes and links and interconnections that I can overlook and am enjoying learning more about.

British Museum information about Picasso
"This exhibition of Pablo Picasso’s most celebrated series of etchings, The Vollard Suite, will be the first time a complete set has been shown in a British public institution. The Vollard Suite comprises 100 etchings produced by Picasso between 1930 and 1937, at a critical juncture in Picasso’s career. This exhibition celebrates the recent acquisition of these etchings, thanks to the extraordinary generosity of Hamish Parker. It is the only complete Vollard Suite held by a public museum in the UK.
The prints were made when Picasso was involved in a passionate affair with his muse and model, Marie-Thérèse Walter, whose classical features are a recurrent presence in the series. They offer an ongoing process of change and metamorphosis that eludes any final resolution. Picasso gave no order to the plates nor did he assign any titles to them. Picasso kept the plates open-ended to allow connections to be freely made among them, yet certain thematic groupings can also be identified.
The predominant theme of the Vollard Suite is the Sculptor’s Studio (46 etchings), which deals with Picasso’s engagement with classical sculpture. At this point he was making sculpture at his new home and studio, the Château de Boisgeloup outside Paris. The etchings of his young model, Marie-Thérèse, represent a dialogue alternating between the artist and his creation and between the artist and his model. Various scenarios are played out between the sculptor, the model and the created work. Among them is the classical myth of Pygmalion in which the sculptor becomes so enamoured of his creation that it comes to life at the artist’s touch. Classical linearity and repose within the studio also alternate with darker, violent forces. The latter are represented by scenes of brutal passion and by the Minotaur (15 etchings), the half-man, half-animal of classical myth, which became central to Picasso’s personal mythology. Picasso in a spirit of competitiveness tips his cap to his great predecessors, Rembrandt and Goya. The series concludes with three portraits of Vollard himself, made in 1937.
For the first time the etchings will be displayed alongside examples of the type of classical sculpture and objects that Picasso was inspired by, something which the British Museum is in a unique position to do. As well as this, Rembrandt etchings, Goya prints and Ingres drawings from the Prints and Drawings collection will also be displayed as their influence can be seen in some of Picasso’s works.
The Vollard Suite takes its name from Ambroise Vollard (1866-1939), the greatest avant-garde Paris art dealer and print publisher of his day, who gave Picasso his first Paris exhibition in 1901. In exchange for some pictures, Picasso produced for Vollard a group of 100 etchings between 1930 and 1937. The mammoth task of printing some 310 sets, plus three further sets on vellum, was completed by the Paris printer Roger Lacourière in 1939. Vollard’s unexpected death in a car accident that year, followed by the outbreak of the Second World War, delayed the distribution of the Vollard Suite until the 1950s by the dealer Henri Petiet who had purchased most of the prints from the Vollard estate. The set acquired by the British Museum comes directly from the heirs of Henri Petiet and so has an impeccable provenance, having never been shown in public before, and is in pristine condition."

The British Museum - information about The Horse.
A mould that dates between 2000 to 1800BC is one of the first known representations of the horse and is a mould from Babylonia.
Apparently the horse was domesticated about 3500BC.
The horse replaced the donkey. It was faster, had more stamina and had a better temperament.

George Stubbs of course featured heavily. His anatomy of a horse was there.
Stubbs in singled out as a portrait artist of horses because of his understanding of what was going on under the skin. He spent 18 months dissecting horses and in his etchings shows the workings of the horse, "this wonderful animal" states the British Museum curator Nigel Tallis. I would like to know how to be a curator. Apparently tubbs' fame was achieved on the basis of his understanding