This week’s prompt of Gouache proved a tough one! I know nothing about Gouache so …
Mavis decided she needed a hobby; or rather her daughter, Julie, decided she did and persuaded her to enrol in either the painting or Yoga classes held at her local village hall.
“Mum, it will be relaxing,” her daughter enthused. “And it’ll give you the opportunity to connect with your inner self and discover your creative spirit.”
Mavis grimaced … inner self, indeed. Her only interest in ‘innards’ revolved around her intestines, regular bowel movements and the fact that beans made her bloat and gave her wind.
After watching Yoga on YouTube performed by six-foot, sylphlike twigs who contorted into various positions Mavis concluded Yoga looked more like positions from the Karma Sutra manual her husband bought her one Christmas as a joke. At least she sincerely hoped he was joking.
Either way, her body shape did not lend itself to contortions and she’d only put her back out.
When it came to painting her sum experience in all her sixty-nine years amounted to finger painting with the grandchildren and redecorating the downstairs privy after her grandson, Jimmy, decided to graffiti one of the walls with female body parts using a wax crayon. For a five-year-old, he already sported an interesting imagination. Mortified, his mum blushed. At least grandpa was impressed by the fresh smell of paint and the abstract images of the female anatomy that still grinned through.
The painting class proved to be as arty and airy-fairy as Mavis expected. The teacher waxed nonsense-lyrical while students drooled over dribbles of paint layered like food on a baby’s bib. Unimpressed she tuned out and turned down her hearing aid while the teacher wittered on about Gou-lash or whatever … .
Mavis thought back to Jimmy’s Graffiti. Maybe he’d learnt a style of Gou-lash at school.
Why not Join us for next week’s Friday Flash Fiction Challenge? Prompt: Broken Maximum words: 300