söndag, februari 19, 2017

Dirty Dublin Strip Cartoons





Dirty Dublin Strip Cartoons! My first cartoon book. Published by In Dublin and Ward River Press 1982. Sold for £2.95. Remaindered at £1.49. I should have bought them all!
Because now they sell at between $25.57 - $240.15 on the net. (Why would you pay $240.15 when you can get a copy for $25.57? There's another thing I don't understand).

This book sold like hot cakes initially so Ward River printed another shipload of them . That shipload didn't sell at all. And Parsons Bookshop, the famous literary landmark and the centre of bohemian Dublin, refused to stock it. I was told by a 'friend' that the two famous ladies who ran the shop thought I should go back to my own country and mock my own people.
Would that it were that I had my very own country!


 

lördag, januari 28, 2017

End of dog blog





The marvels of modern technology! I haven't been able to access my blog for yonks&years. But now I'm back on the blog, glory be and thanks to my IT-genius! It took him nearly the whole day to get it back so it wasn't a simple task.
 My dog has been a bad dog in the meantime (=while I have been on blog silent)  She got into a row in the park with a Yorkshire terrier over a biscuit and somehow nearly tore the tail off the unfortunate yorkie. We have now been barred from the company of the lap dogs. Or I barred us. Can't afford to have tails stitched back on too often, what with the price of vet's fees. We both miss the camaraderie of the dog gang and their 'mums'.
The vet thinks that my little fluffy dog goes into 'pseudo heat' every so often because she may have retained a bit of ovary even though she has been spayed. Or she may have a third ovary. (Too much information?) She has 'hormonal problems' and can be a bit of a b****


onsdag, oktober 22, 2014

Home sick


How long have I lived in Ireland? Lightyears! At least 30 years anyway (And don't start about lightyears being a measure of distance, not time. You know what I mean, dear pedantic reader).

Anyway people still ask me if I am homesick:
'Are you homesick?'
'..eh  mumble..mumble..I have been here thirty years...more than thirty years'
'Then you must be really homesick!'

But I am not homesick. I live here now. My home that was is gone. It is in the past. I can't go back. This is my home now. I have no other home to go back to.

But my dogged well wishers will not let go:
'Must be terrible for you not have a home to go back to'

This is very Irish. Swedes don't (usually) ask their foreigners if they are home sick because Swedes are a confident people. They think if somebody has the good fortune to be washed up on their shores that person must surely feel so lucky that they will never pine for anywhere else ever again.
(Also they are not that into to intrusive small talk. They don't ask and they don't want to know).

fredag, oktober 17, 2014

Small dog does pee on pavement!

Long time-no dog blog!
So much to tell, so many dog days...where to begin? As I told you before people know you by your dog. You get a lot of attention because of your dog and most of the time the attention is welcome but sometimes not.
The other day my dog did a pee on the pavement. A householder rapped on his window from the inside moving his lips and shaking his fist. I stood to attention then spread my arms palms up. What did he want me to do?
 Lick it up?
Honestly.

måndag, oktober 15, 2012

What I do all day


Every week I ring a certain older female relative in Sweden. I do this every week and we "shoot the breeze" and talk about nothing much mostly. Last time she put a question to me: "What am I to tell people when they ask me what you do with yourself all day ?"
Now there's a question!

SHE knows of course that I do nothing all day but what is she to tell people? Here's the answer: I do what Picasso did all day. Except I don't have the talent. Or the money.

Still it is nice that people in Sweden are asking about me.








torsdag, oktober 04, 2012

Am I dreaming?

I have my old "job" back!
Yesterday my newspaper rang and said they had resurrected  the cartoon page.
So I rise again from the ashes like Phoenix.  I stand up from the heap of ashes, where I have been sitting like Job scratching my sores with a potsherd. So weird.
 Maybe I am dreaming and the sleeping mind have lured me into a "wish fulfillment" dream. Soon I will wake up and say: "I dreamt that I got my old job back drawing the old Tuula cartoon, isn't that weird".
What was it the the philosopher said again: Am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a philosopher- or is the other way round?
Anyway, now I have to draw the cartoon again, damn it.
Unless I wake up.

tisdag, september 11, 2012

So good bye then, Job!

The dogs in the street don't know it yet but I have lost my job!

 As a freelance cartoonist one could say that I never had "a job". But like all freelancers I cherished the weekly assignment that I could rely on being there, week after week. I had my Tuula strip. It was my rock in an uncertain world, my lodestar.
 The pay wasn't all that great but it was steady work and it gave my week a shape, a routine.
My routine: Monday to Thursday pursuing various interests&avenues and drawing for fun if no other assignment had turned up, Friday panicking, Saturday seriously panicking and drawing the strip, Sunday panicking some more and changing my mind and drawing it again.
 That kind of routine.

So good bye, Tuula! What next? The plans are brewing...