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About the page...
Ignatius is day-dreaming about Jess. Although the text suggests he remembers the bad things about the relationship, his recollection of her physical appearance is very positive. "Talent", in British slang, means sexual attractiveness. Of course, Ignatius has not seen Jess for quite some time, so he is remembering her (at least physically) in a very favorable light. This page is a bit unique for two reasons. First, the only things rendered are the two bottles. I actually drew the narrowboat (which was quite simple, honestly). Secondly, this is the first page in the story to use a photograph (which I took in England) as a background. The story thus far... Grace and Simon, two teenage tearaways, have discovered a passage to Reality in the basement of The tré (a tiny theatre in their miniscule town of Otterstow). Unfortunately, they have accidentally trapped themselves and cannot return, although they do not seem to be in any hurry to do so. Ignatius (the mayor of Otterstow) suspects this is the case and has enlisted the aid of the parents; Slide, Sandra, Pete and Gina. None of the adults have figured out how to open the passage, which seems to involve a mysterious box that they cannot open. What's going on right now: Ignatius had some guests last night. It is now early morning and he is having a cup of tea to start his day as he ruminates on the balcony overlooking his garden. Pete has just joined him. |
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Drawing completed - 05 JUN 2011
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Page 113 Nora Balcony Ignatius thought how lovely it would be, cruising from town to town along the canal, stopping at the occasional pub or two or three each day - sleeping under the stars when the weather was right - enjoying the quiet stretches of natural beauty of the canal - particularly with someone special. The (frequent) mention of Jess FærFyxe the previous evening brought her to mind, and he reminisced for a moment on their lengthy and rather stormy relationship. Absolutely stunning woman, he recalled. Still, she was practically a criminal and never did anything for anyone besides herself. What a damned waste of talent. I'm glad she's moved away, but . . . Ignatius thought to himself. So few Vixens around these days, single ones, at least . . . with two brain cells to rub together . . . and with a great big . . . "Mornin' Ig," Pete interrupted his reverie. |
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All material copyright Grim, 2011. No unauthorized use. Survivors will be prosecuted.