The Mysterious Traveller

Well, I finally did it. Whether it was due to the overwhelming anxiety-driven previous 12 months or simply pure instinct telling me to take the plunge into the unknown, I left the studio. It was something I had wanted to do for most of 2023, but the need for routine and stability amongst colleagues and friends overcame my adventurous ambitions. I think it helped me, the structure of daily familiarities; not quite a regular yoga practice but it was something.  But as I continued to work on these small projects, my motivation really waned. I must point out that this was, by no means, the fault of the studio. Whatever is happening with me, it's a personal matter (internally, I would say) and nothing to do with the work of others.   And for me to fully reflect on the mental, spiritual and physical factors of Tommy Grainger's life, I packed up the van and went on a six week road trip around Portugal and Spain.  I originally had the idea of keeping a travel blog filled wit...

 

I BOUGHT A VAN. Yes, I bought a van. A  most regular looking van (from the outside) but when you venture within, my goodness, the beauty and potential. A stove, a sink, a fold out double(ish) bed, lights, additional battery for power and very decent storage space. It just needed a little TLC (hey, I don't want no scrubs) and this baby will become so comfortable that you can shake a gear stick at it.  I was scrolling through Gumtree, as I wanted to keep things relatively cheap, and Autotrader was a little out of my league. And by a stroke of good fortune I managed to whip up a conversation with a local seller - lovely Bernadette - who invited me over for a van viewing.  The van was parked on her drive, a Vauxhall Vivaro, covered in carbon scoring and dust. What a heap of junk , a voice was telling me, but she'll make point five past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but I bet she's got it where it counts. Bernadette watched as my inner debate clearly showed on my exp...

Courtesy of Lucy Burgess, artist - www.lucyburgessart.co.uk/ Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Thomas who lived in a charming terraced house in Stockport with his fiance Lucy. They had saved up their pocket money in a save-to-buy ISA to buy a fixed rate mortgage on this property, which was located in a very up and coming part of the town. The transport links were good, including regular trains to Manchester Piccadilly and the Peak District (Stockport's very own back yard) with a Bargain Booze that boasted delicious local ales instead of Smirnoff Ice. Thomas was very happy with his home and would often sit in the garden and marvel at how grown up he felt. With a secure job and a date set for the wedding, Thomas gazed up at the dismal grey skies above and estimated the rain would begin in no less than 7 minutes.  No sooner had Thomas scrambled inside with the damp washing from the line, did the blisteringly shrill screams begin from the girl next door. Ignoring the poun...

Every ounce of my creative little mind wants to begin this journey with an inspirational moment; an epiphany, if you will, or a turning point in my life that led me to buying a van and leave the UK. But life is full of little inspirational moments, building up over time, and even though this decision was really quite radical I don't think anybody was surprised about it. My life was always leading to this. To #vanlife. Yes ladies and gentlemen, I have laid down a hashtag within the first paragraph. In an effort to remain current and give easy to follow content #vanlife will be the pretence by which I shall describe the continuing adventures of Tom's Thumb. The problem being that #vanlife is not an original concept, so if you were to search for this hashtag I could imagine that you'd clock up several thousand results.  But the important thing is that I am one of them! No longer will you read about the Manchester based prop maker and art director who waffles on about puppets a...