Super heroes, conflict, cups of tea and why those things all need to be in a painting together

On the weekend, my lovely friend Bee took me expeditioning to a craft market. I have a (well known) fondness for all things pretty, and she and I spotted the most adorable child's cape. It was almost enough to make me want to spawn a miniature-Nat, just so I could dress her in it. Common sense, of course, dictates that this would be an otherwise idiotic idea. In any case, Bee tried to coerce me into buying it, on the grounds that I am almost child-sized and therefore ought to be able to fit it. Naturally I disagreed with this assertion.

After leaving the craft market, we met Rob for lunch. Bee recounted the tale of the cape, which somehow (perfectly reasonably, in my opinion) segued into a conversation about superheroes. Rob turned to Bee and me and said "In my dream, Nat's superhero power is the ability to solve any conflict in the world via the power of the tea party. She would swoop in, attired fabulously, with a cape, of course and some of her heels, and, depending on the level of conflict, enforce resolution via conversation over tea and teeny, tiny food. Small scale conflict may just require a thermos and a few biscuits. Large scale conflict would need the full silver service high-tea treatment. Damask table cloths, fine china, 3-tiered stands, the works".

The sheer absurdity of the image delighted me entirely. Imagine a silver service high tea in the middle of a war zone with a bunch of generals sitting down sipping delicately, forced to discuss the root of the issues whilst keeping to the bounds of polite table manners. I am woefully out of practice with both my drawing and my painting, but the image in my head that I have of it is almost enough to make me want to attempt to capture it.

But more than that, I loved how accurately he had nailed my personality. I hate conflict, I hate arguments, and I would love, ideally, for them all to be resolved quietly over a cup of tea. It’s pretty much the *perfect* super power for me. AND it has The Pretty.

There are small moments in time, tiny moments of happiness that, for whatever reason, when they happen, resonate within you, and you know that without consciously trying or even knowing why, your mind has packed them away into a little box, wrapped in scented and patterned tissue paper, for safe-keeping in your memory. I don’t know where those moments come from, sometimes they are the tiniest, most insignificant things, but each one feels like a warm ray of sunshine on a freezing cold day.

As I sat and listened to Bee and Rob discuss the detailed costume requirements of such a superhero (broderie anglaise dress and ruffle petticoat were amongst the requirements, for those who were curious), I knew that, for whatever reason, at the end of what had been a monumentally shit week, I had been handed one of those moments.

Side note: If you have not yet watched BBC’s ‘No Heroics’ and you can appreciate the ridiculousness of the above, then you should most definitely remedy this at the earliest possibly convenience.