Category: Uncategorized

My life is different than it was before.

All the things at the edges are now in the middle.

Things like cooking, cleaning and caring for myself. Making sure I’m in bed early and awake early for meditations and Morning Pages.  My self-care and morning routine has never been more important to me. Because now I am facing one of the biggest challenges (and joys) of my adult life. I’ve adopted a small horse. And she wants to live in my bed.

Dear Birdy has made a takeover bid for Toftie Towers. I haven’t made any art in months. I cannot take her to my studio as she would likely eat my paints.

Everything has changed. I hope I’ve developed more patience. I certainly have a new respect for single mothers and people who choose to become parents later in life. Perhaps my age has something to do with how hard this is?  I know we’ll get through the tough bit, but it’ll take a while and there may be less art until we get there. I eat, sleep and dream this puppy. And I’m looking forward to the day I have the energy to draw properly again. Birdy has already made her first appearance in paint (before we picked her up). Maybe you can find her if you have the (sold out) 2025 Club calendar?

Sometimes I get so tired everything goes a bit surreal. Only a few months ago I was footloose, fancy free and with a gorgeous German Shepherd. And I thought, dear Betty is getting to the age now when we could just start looking for the ‘crossover dog’.  And after a whole lot of searching I found Birdy on a farm in Devon: the perfect mix of every dog that’s meant a lot to me. Newfoundland, Bernese Mountain dog, poodle and German Shepherd (of course). Then Betty died suddenly and I found myself with an extra large puppy and a big hole in my heart.

I don’t remember anything being as hard as this. But then I haven’t been through as many griefs and challenges as most of the people I know. My career and social life have gone into a dark place: a holding pattern from whence they will be retrieved one fine day I’m sure of it. 

Given my age and strength this will likely be my last big dog. Definitely my last puppy. (remind me I said this when I go get another). So I’m trying to live in the moment, one day at a time, do what needs to be done and feel the gratitude and joy (which is huge). And if people want commissions and new work, new ideas, new collaborations, charity donations, a new book, more social media. Let them. That’s just not happening right now. Doubtless things are unfolding just the way they should.

I heard once that we don’t get the dog we think we want. We get the dog that will teach us what we need to learn. Well one of the things I’m learning is that I’ve been doing too much.

That said, new for February we have SIX brand new prints from C&D Fine Art. It’s a lovely collection – they’ve chosen well – and it’s the first in a limited series of smaller editions they’re releasing throughout 2025. You can peruse them on our website at www.samtoft.co.uk in the Remarqued Editions section, where they come with a complementary drawing. We have only THREE of each of these prints, so Ready Steady Go! And if tiny original drawings and handmade cards are beyond your budget, the rest of the edition can be found at these selected stockists:

• The Braithwaite Gallery, York 01904 655707
• Forest Gallery, Petworth 01798 368181
• Harbour Gallery, Whitstable 01227 277044
• Treeby & Bolton, Keswick 01768 77244
• The Rose Gallery, Northampton 01604 713743

I say ‘selected’ advisedly as each of these are small, independent, well run (often by family) businesses who offer excellent customer service, no pressure sales and an opportunity to see all the new work in situ with great online presence and more besides. This is where a sale builds a relationship, it’s not just money in the pocket of a multinational. But hey, I’m sure those poor ole multinationals need our support too.

And I’ve felt moved to add a bit of extra love and value for our Club members this month. We have more free tiny drawings (in exchange for your colouring-in expertise!), a 20% join up discount active across Mustardshop online, and coming soon some incredible additions to Clubroom too. There’s an exciting event in May where I will draw your pets live, and another opportunity to see your pets in my pictures during 2025. All details in your Club newsletter.  Little Mustard Club membership is here. 

So these are all good things.

Like puppies and spring bulbs and someone (anyone!) bringing you a cup of tea in bed of a morning. Or a cappuccino and a coconut macaroon in the afternoon (aren’t I the lucky one?!).

But there are a few bad things too. I’ll not dwell on them too long, but I feel I need to share.

There’s a new batch of forgeries/frauds/frustrating copyright infringers on TEMU we are trying to head off with little luck. It’s upsetting. Their sales are huge. The quality of what you receive is disappointing. The pictures are of products that do not even exist. It’s all a big lie and what you get is absolutely not what you see. Once we bring one down another pops back up. My efforts to chase them have exhausted me. And because of their huge influence in the marketplace, I am considering withdrawing completely from all open edition publishing after this year unless something can be done. I’m not receiving any money from many thousands of sales. My beloved imaginary friends and my 30 years of hard graft are going to line somebody else’s pockets. My new work is paying for fat cats’ dinners. That’s not too smart of me, is it? I’ll keep you up to date and please continue sending any information you find as it is very helpful if upsetting. 

Of course everyone has to make their crust. And I don’t begrudge the few market traders I see standing in the cold all day selling stolen photocopies of my work to earn a few bob. But these multinationals, operating cloak and dagger often out of China, do take the biscuit. They ask me to prove who I am (a passport, a signature and a video of me painting the very piece they are pirating does not suffice). Copyright laws cannot help. Solicitors can spend months bringing down one offender and 24 hours later another suspiciously similar one appears. TEMU, SHEIN etc support other large businesses and not the artists that make the work they are selling. It’s a sign of our times for who can resist a bargain? And I honestly don’t blame you if you fall for the lies and the excellent marketing. We’ve all done it. But I have no control over what you’ll receive and if the quality is not good, please send your complaints to the people you bought from, not me.

It’s upsetting, it’s frustrating, and you’d think it would be illegal and easily preventable. But perhaps I just need to accept it and make other plans (I’ll let you know what they are!).  I have a warm home, my good health, friends, family and loved ones, a small horse of a puppy and a community of good people who know the truth. Thank you for being there. Your kind words and support help more than I can say.

I’m loving my slow walks through city parks on short cold days with my darling girl by my side. I’m loving how she turns and runs back to me when I call with her floppy puppy legs. I’m loving how everybody assumes she’s a full-grown labradoodle, whereas me and you know full well she’s only halfway there. I’m training her as a therapy dog. It may take some time. One day I’d love you to meet her,

But until then I’m sending lots of love,

Sam 

Hallo friends!

As has become customary I have a little story to tell you, but please scroll if it gets a bit silly. I’ll be in touch again in a week or so with details of the competition, giveaways and prizes.

Once, many years ago, I was very interested in making a marionette and was lucky enough to attend a course with the BRILLIANT John Roberts. I took inspiration from a young storyteller I’d seen taking part in a show a few months before. Tall and delightfully gangly with a shock of bright ginger hair and small glasses, he looked rather like a teenage Mr Mustard.

So I drew his slim white figure from my mind’s eye, and carved out his calves and thighs, feet, hips, arms and head with a wickedly sharp Chinese chisel. It was a miraculous tool. So smooth and easy to use. It cut through the wood like butter. Carving his face was like preparing Brussels Sprouts at Christmas. It was just THAT easy. It sent shivers down my spine every second it was in my hand. One moment’s daydream and there would be a spare finger on the floor I felt sure of it.

The very thought gave me nightmares. I was determined to get over myself but the chisel, once wrapped carefully in many sheets of oiled rags, remained unvisited. And the half-finished puppet rests to this day in an old tin box on a shelf at my studio. Complete with all his accoutrements and my extravagant plans. The marionette was to be the star of his own show. The show was to be called Simon Smith and He’s Dancing Bare.

A while later I found myself again at the very excellent Jane Bombane’s in Kemptown at another event, and I ran into the young storyteller once more. Without thinking (and that was my mistake) I approached him, excited to meet him properly. He was a storyteller and I had a unique story personal to him. He would love it. What could possibly go wrong?

It soon became obvious he did not recall ever having seen me before. But I continued regardless.  For I am the Queen, nay the Tsarina, of the awkward situation.

I will leave you to guess the details of the conversation we had. Less a conversation more of a stuttering monologue, as I dug myself deeper and deeper into a slippery hole with every phrase I uttered. Seeing the surprise, embarrassment then growing horror on this stranger’s face did nothing to slow me down as I bulldozed my way into the foundations of indecency.

And why do I find myself telling you this story when I can hardly bear to think of it myself without cringing massively? It’s because of the COVID.

We’ve all had such a terrible scare. It’s made me value my life in all its detail all the more. And to realize that THESE are the days. They are not times to be scared of, embarrassed about, secretive with. This is the very stuff of life and it is to be celebrated, treasured and laughed about.

And I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. In a way I was only sharing ideas with my muse. And perhaps there was no skillful way explain to a total stranger how he’d inspired me to carve him naked out of wood with nothing to cover his modesty but the smallest smattering of an old fluorescent-orange feather boa.

Possibly I can never visit Bombane’s again. Probably I gave a shy young man the fright of his life. Definitely I felt ridiculous, foolish and awkward. Thankfully it was a dark basement, no one else heard me, and I have never seen him again. And no one else knows, except for you.

But THESE are the days… No matter how gut wrenchingly embarrassing, difficult or outofyourcomfortzone something may feel, may I urge you to go ahead and do it? Perhaps not something as ridiculous as I did, but don’t we all need to seize the day?

I will leave you for now with a simple soup recipe and an entreaty to tell no-one about the contents of this email, which may well self destruct in three minutes,

3….2….1….

Sam Toft x

Recipe Time

Slowly fry a whole head of chopped celery and an onion in olive oil then add 2 cloves of crushed garlic. Next a few cubed root vegetables (a couple carrots, a potato, and half a turnip ?) and simmer with a stock cube, lots of water.

A few chilli flakes and a generous shake of white pepper

A handful of small pasta when the veg is tender and a bunch each of fresh parsley and basil chopped

Salt to taste

It’s simple and yummy

A Portuguese man in his takeaway café told me it was his mother’s recipe. Tastes of home.

I had a little fig tree. I planted it a few years ago and it’s not so little anymore. In fact, it’s making a takeover bid for my little seaside garden. It’s been growing mostly horizontally this year, and it’s reached about 12 feet. I planted it because nothing at all seemed to grow in my dry shady chalky soil, and the snails hiding in the crumbling garden walls would eat any tentative green shoot. But I really love figs. And now I have Mr Figgy and he’s taking over the world! 

Granted it’s not quite as spacious in my little urban plot as formerly. And walking down the garden path is a bit of an obstacle course. The dense blanketing canopy of fig leaves has taken the light from my small but carefully chosen collection of snail hardy geraniums. Everything is so dark, strangled and weedy. And will those tiny figs ever even ripen? 

Does anyone remember the story of The Old Woman in the Vinegar Bottle? One of my favourites as a child and it often comes to mind at times like these. Sometimes I think I am that old woman. It’s as if the kind fairy granted my wish for a strong luscious plant that could withstand my barren terrain. But as I sit, cramped up on my bench, beneath its rampant sticky branches I find myself wishing for something smaller and more ornamental. And I reflect on how easy it is to be sad and ungrateful even though I have everything I need. And most of what I asked for.

Oftentimes when I feel blank or numb I try to think of something I can create or do to change things up. And there are random unexpected happenings in the air (not least my self-published 2025 calendar with YOUR PETS IN – but more of that later). 

It was 2008 when I had my last puppy: the World-Famous Stanley Philpot. How did I manage to find a world-famous puppy? Well sometimes they just fall from the stars and launch a whole range of gorgeous stationery, anyone remember that?! 

Dear departed Stan was the mischievous side kick to both Sir Moses Browndog and my very special Betty who joined us at 3 years old. Betty loved to play with Stan but now, unable to walk and run as fast as she used to, misses out on the regular doggie boxing and raggling sessions in the park. For my ‘crossover dog’ and to provide a new lease of life for Betty, I’ve been searching for the perfect little docile puppy lump. And I’ve found a Newfoundland mix who will be joining us in 4 or 5 weeks. I’ll name this puppy Birdy. 

But we’ve just found out that Betty will be leaving us sooner than expected. I can’t talk about it yet. But so many of us will know how that feels. The sad part of the circle of life. We have just a few quiet precious days together now. So I’m cancelling my November open studio but still going ahead with the small planned online show. I’ve had to segue this piece of upsetting news into my otherwise informative upbeat newsletter, so please forgive the jolt. The new work will be dedicated to Betty, and indeed all your own pets, both here and sadly departed. I’ve always believed the best way to handle loss is to create something new, spreading a little joy through the sadness.  

NEW ONLINE SHOW

I was planning a cosy Club event at my private studio this November. But although this is cancelled now, we are moving it online. November 29th is the launch date of the next show at www.samtoftoriginals.co.uk 

‘Live as you are. But not today’ is the title of my new collection. Something I’ve learned from Betty. These last days, all I’ve wanted to do is cry. But I’m keeping things ‘normal’ for Betty. As a sensitive dog she picks up on emotions fast. There’ll be time enough for tears when she’s gone. 

We will have brand new mixed media paintings, limited bronze editions and some small original drawings in vintage frames. The last online show for a while.  

Priority Access for Little Mustard Club members and previous samtoftoriginals buyers with a secret online code. And in the spirit of spreading the love, I’ll be selling one of the pictures to raise funds for a fabulous little primary school in Kenya I visited on my recent trip. They have absolutely nothing. Children walk miles each morning on an empty stomach. How can they hope to learn on empty stomachs? Hopefully together we can buy a few books, food and supplies to keep them going for another year. We have so much, and they have so little.  I may post a few pictures and videos on my new social media account once I have time after Betty has passed. 

At time of writing I have just picked my first soft sun warmed fig. And figs are one of my most favouritest of fruits. So expensive and often disappointing from the supermarket, my homegrown fig was even sweeter than those I’ve picked on a Greek island Summer holiday. I may even consider planting another and I’ll see if there’s a place to bury a vinegar bottle beneath!  

It is both too early and too late for little Birdy pup to come into our lives. But I’ll make the best of it, you know I will. And who knows, there may be a little treasure waiting for us all somewhere over the rainbow? 

Big love x

Sam Toft 

I have a new exhibition coming up. 

Dedicated to the memory of Betty.  

She came into my life at 3 years old just a couple of weeks after she had failed to graduate from police dog school in Croatia. And as we boarded the train back to Brighton she stepped bravely into the unknown once again. Seven years almost to the day she left us.  

We are united in our experience of loss. And of course it seeps through into my paintings sometimes. My forthcoming online exhibition was created in Betty’s last months, even though I did not know it then. She taught me so much about staying in the present. She lived her life right here, right now, and exactly as she felt. Right up to the last moment when she closed her big trusting eyes trying her best to get through two tubs of icecream. 

It’ll be my last exhibition in a while but I hope you will enjoy looking at the new original work. Prices start from £95. 

We’ve made an up-to-date list and emailed all previous originals buyers to let you know you’re on the early access list. If you were expecting priority access but didn’t see the email, you could check your spam folder and make the necessary adjustments so you’ll be able to receive the secret password on 28th November. 

All Club members will also automatically go on our Specials list.  Amber will send you an email confirming that soon. You can join Little Mustard Club here. 

Otherwise, the exhibition will launch publicly on Friday 29th November 7pm. There will be beautifully framed paintings, drawings and the remainder of my limited edition bronze stock. From previous experience of how the software works, items are not ‘yours’ until they are paid for. They are not reserved just because you put them in your basket. And things can tend to sell out quickly. But if you are unlucky we DO have a consolation prize.  

Over the exhibition weekend (29th, 30th, 1st), Nan and Louise will be adding extra gifts to your purchases from our online shop at www.samtoft.co.uk. There are lots of remarqued prints available including half price ‘end of lines’ available at Club Room (for Club members only). The more you buy the more surprises you’ll get! Let them know if there’s anything you’d like in particular by emailing mustardshop@aol.com and they’ll try their best while stocks last! There’s all manner of Mustard themed merchandise like signed Christmas cards, tiny drawings, tea towels, shopping lists, tea trays and greetings cards, vintage catalogues, small prints. It’s so nice to give, especially at this time of year. 

This year I’ll be giving to a small school in Kenya I visited in the Summer. The Oldubei Primary School in Nakuru. They truly have nothing. And Saul Beti our safari guide wakes up early to make Ugali in a makeshift kitchen for the children who walk miles to get there on an empty stomach. I’ll be sending £3000 from the sale of Doggie Taxi, one of the larger pictures. Heartfelt thanks to the purchaser. Together we will make a huge difference to this small school.  You can watch Saul showing me round the school in this video on my Facebook page or on YouTube. 

Sending big hugs to all. Especially those of you who are having a hard time at the moment. It is still such a beautiful world and there is much we can do to help people realise how special they are.  

Thank you all! 

Sam  

“As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has or ever will have, something inside that is unique to all time.

It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”

MR. ROGERS

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the peaceful gardens of my local Buddhist meditation centre with my new pup. We sit on a bench beneath a small tree with its large, lime green heart-shaped leaves. We’ve been watching as they turn almost  iridescent shades of shell pink. And as they fall there’s a dazzling abstract pattern creating itself on the dew-soaked grass. Fresh coral hearts join the yellows and the russets beneath. It’s an Eastern Redbud I think. Spectacular.  

No time for painting. Not much time for writing. No energy at all for dreaming up new ideas at my lovely quiet studio. The short nights, long days and addled brain will be familiar to all new mums, carers and puppy parents. The eyes may be bleary but my heart is full. And I know I am very lucky to have this time for contemplating the beauty of nature on my doorstep. Pushing an oversized pre-vaccinated puppy in a sturdy perambulator along the early morning streets. My little Birdy is too heavy to be carried far and we have resorted to wheels for our socialising. The mild November weather has been such a blessing.  

I stole her from a farm in Devon.  

I didn’t really steal her, but that’s how it must have felt for my Birdy.  

She’s a large brown mixed breed, cleverly incorporating parts of all of my former dogs. She’s a Newfoundland mix: part German Shepherd, part Poodle, part Bernese Mountain dog. Her coat is a bit curly, a bit fluffy, a bit wiry but with the ubiquitous rose pink puppy belly. Her paws are the size of Betty’s, her eyes are full of love and mischief, her teeth as sharp as razors.  I stole her from her mum and dad and grandparents and siblings. I stole her from the fields, the woods, the lakes and rivers, from the straw and the stables and the huge blue skies. Now she’s landed in a townhouse with a small walled garden and a tiny fish pond with just me and a talking budgie for company. Busy roads and pebbled beaches, seaside piers and promenades, cafés, city parks and cul-de-sacs. But her biggest shock I think was hearing seagulls instead of skylarks. Birdy  is a very brave pup indeed.  

Three weeks in and I’m fifty shades of shattered. Glad I got the paintings for my final show of 2024 to the framers before our trip to Devon. Will I ever paint again?!? 

——–

Louise (my dear sister, she of MUSTARDHAMPERS fame) has suggested a BUMPER shopping weekend for all! Every order received Friday 29th, Saturday 30th, Sunday 1st December will receive an extra gift (and the more you order the more she will gift!) … think signed Christmas cards, mini jigsaws, notebook and pen sets, lap trays, cushions, signed black and white prints – all absolutely FREE with your orders over that long weekend!

And Nan asked me to remind you of her last order dates to get there for Christmas: Sunday December 15th for UK and Monday 2nd December for elsewhere in the World. Anything after that, email mustardshop@aol.com for possible expedited delivery. 

Along with many other artists, my work is being stolen and counterfeited on platforms like Temu and Shein.  If you value art, please buy genuine items from authorised retailers to avoid supporting theft.

——–

Anyhoo, back now to puppy pleasures. There’s lots of work to do with the training. Lots of cuddles and patience in between. One day soon though we’ll both be sleeping through the night. And there’ll be a new brown dog sitting at the door of Brown Dog Studio! Can’t wait to get back to painting of course, but for now we have a few tough months ahead of us to nail down that housetraining. Wish me luck! 

Thank you so much for all your love, kind messages and support. It’s appreciated now more than ever. We are all good people living in a scary and uncertain times. Let us be the change we want to see in the world.  

Big love 

Sam Toft 

X

I’ve been hacked.

It happened so fast.

It was really spooky to have messages from thieves arriving in my inbox at silly o’clock. I felt angry and scared at the same time. Invaded even. But maybe it’s not a huge sinister crime syndicate wanting to kidnap and torture Mr Mustard. More your spotty youth working for a ne’erdowell, cramped in a damp basement somewhere not very nice at all. And there was me, lying propped up in bed early morning with a cup of tea checking emails with my lovely big dog snoring into the linen duvet.

But still. A moment of not thinking straight and now all the social media platforms I’ve been slowly building for the last 20 years have locked me out.

They played the long game I think. Offering me virtual badges and awards for jumping through hoops. I thought it’s what I needed to do to get on the right side of the algorithm. And then “Instagram” sent me this new mail full of praise for how I’d been running my accounts with daily posts and lots of engaging Stories… they said they wanted to reward me further. I was going to win big. They just needed to verify my identity with my password.

I’ve never been much good at winning things. One Third Prize and a Highly Commended throughout my childhood. Can’t remember any gold stars after infant school. No Prefects badges or Head Girl status for me and even my Highly Commended was disappointing. It wasn’t my best work.

The category I chose was Garden on a Sand Tray for the local schools display at a summer show. There were only three other entrants (the first, second and third prizes) and the advantage they had (I realised too late) was bringing their trays empty and laying out their gardens in the tent. Whereas I had carried mine across the fields. Three stiles. My tray garden looked like Uncle Quentin’s back doormat at the end of Five Go to Smugglers’ Sands.

And my Third Prize wasn’t much better. It was for the Religious Figures category. I really liked spending time at our local church and wanted to make something to impress the vicar, so I decided to create a Virgin Mary out of a toilet roll tube. I remember it was going well until my art teacher suggested I gave her ‘a nice big smile.’ I felt too shy to disagree but the Virgin I was basing my sculpture upon was the one who had just watched Jesus getting crucified. So when the teacher helpfully twisted her red crepe paper mouth into a grin, I tried to alter it later when the glue had gone tacky. The scarlet dye had run down the carefully painted face, and the glue made it look like a glossy grimace. Like I say, not my best work.


Isn’t it strange how, at any age we like a little acknowledgment of our efforts? Whether it be for making a mess on a sand tray or gaining 28k followers on Instagram.

So when I woke up too early on a Saturday morning and found an email waiting to let me know I had been awarded a new badge I forgot everything and just clicked.

And now, when I’m away on my big birthday trip I won’t be able to keep in touch as I’d planned with terribly glamorous shots on Instagram. I didn’t really fancy any big celebrations so I’m spending my party money on a trip to Africa. Then when I’m back I can get on with the rest of my life.

TWO LOVELY FREE THINGS

There’s a new addition to my YouTube channel. And if you’ve ever wanted to see inside Brown Dog Studio, this is for you! I’d love to hear what you think of it!

Gabe Alborough, my partner’s son and talented young film maker, made a short documentary film from hours and hours of footage he took over three days. It’s an insight into my personal process of painting preparing panicking (and hula hooping) before a little archive sale at my private work studio in Brighton. Back when I was 59. Imagine that.

For Club members, there’s a chance to win a brand new super remarqued print… see @littlemustardclub on Facebook or Instagram for details of how to enter. I’m so grateful that my mistake with the hackers did not affect Amber’s accounts.

I hope this email finds you well and that you’re managing to cope with all that life is throwing at you.

I hope you enjoy the summer solstice celebrations and that perhaps you’ll pick up a bargain in the Tofty Birthday Sale.

And I hope you are wise enough to NOT click on one of those pesky hacker’s links. Apparently, some people do…

Until the next time, lots of love from the Big Clicker,

Sam Toft x

A good friend asked me a question the other day. How much is a million, he said. That’s easy I thought. Six zeros with a one in front of them, right? I don’t often know the answers to random questions so I was feeling quite chuffed. And then he asked how much was a billion. And do you know what, without Google we didn’t know.

But what I DO know is how little understanding I have of big numbers. Like how many pebbles there are on Brighton beach or how many light years it would take to reach a distant planet. These numbers seem to hit my brain like a thick pea souper. I can get my head around hundreds but anything in the thousands and above starts to get a bit sticky.

So I surprised myself when I chose my new read at City Books recently because it was its title that made me pluck it from the shelf. Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman. I really like his writing style but I don’t usually go for ‘self help’ type books. Just this one has cast quite a spell on me.

It’s a Time Management book that encourages the reader to do less. Apparently if I live into my 80s I have less than a thousand weeks left. If I’m lucky, that’s just twenty more seasons at my favourite bluebell woods.

One of the benefits I’ve noticed about my own aging is that there are fewer demands on my time. And I’m reading that even in a long life we have time to do only the tiniest fraction of the things we’d planned.

It’s such a comfort as I’d always imagined I had to try my hardest to do everything I could think of! Reading this book really takes the pressure off. And I’m realising that most of my favourite pastimes aren’t the super exciting ones. I’m not a thrill seeker. I like walking in the woods, doing a bit of painting, appreciating the little things.

As I sit here on a mossy log in the heart of Stanmer Woods it occurs to me that this may be the Perfect Spring day. A tad too warm for me and Betty but the smiles on the faces of passers by more than makes up for that. In fact it feels as if everything is smiling.

Today I’m marvelling at the abundance of early Spring flowers and the rapidity with which they form dense dotty carpets under leafless trees – as if their lives depended on it. Which I suppose they do.

The Winter Aconites with their little faces like stars in the Heavens. The Lesser Celandines with their watercress leaves and shining golden petals. They look so delicious I’m imagining they could taste lovely in a salad (maybe like pineapple flavoured cucumbers?). And those Sweet Violets pushing their tiny purple heads above the mossy banks. So romantic and delicately showy: it always feels like such a privilege to notice them. And how many sycamore seedlings there are! They’re really trying their best to take over the whole planet!

So, refreshed from my retreat in the woods, I’m deciding to do something a little more sociable. I’m having an Archive Sale! The only one of its kind and there will be plenty to rummage through. Lots of one-offs. Plenty of bargains. Original paintings, sculpture and ceramics. An unmissable event if you like my work: Lots of things under £5 and lots of exclusive original work. I will be there all the time and probably won’t open my studio again in the future.

So today I’ll start sorting the treasures from my storeroom into boxes and suitcases, putting up the trestle tables, clearing space on the shelves. It’s going to be a BIG job but I am very much looking forward to welcoming you on April 13th and 14th. I hope there’ll be something for everyone: bargains, vintage treasures, original work, live sketching and YES there will be Tunnocks!

Big Love,

Sam Toft

X

Dear friends,

I hope this email finds you well?

Here in Brighton we’ve been having such howling winds, such sheeting rain, such small glorious bursts of bluesky sunshine. I must confess I really love our inclement weather. I even love the word. Inclement. Makes me think of 1960s London with its red doubledeckers, men in bowler hats and black umbrellas. Those black and white films where people addressed each other formally and talked of the weather as if it were a secret code. And inclement weather makes people behave in curious ways. Jostling with their rainwear, walking sideways into gusty breezes, hunching their shoulders against the cold. Wonderful drawing opportunities. It’s exciting. So many ideas in the soggy sketchbooks. But I know many people prefer the summer. The swimming and the sunny beaches. Me, I don’t like swimming much and really like the inclemency… I think it’s because I appreciate keeping the water on the outside and keeping myself cosy on the inside. The effort to stay warm makes me feel safe and happy.

It’s not all fun though. My neighbours opposite are having major works done:  7 months of rattling scaffold with the wind fair whooping through the creaking poles, and plastic sheeting snapping like a wind flag all night. I’m trying to focus on the positive. Like how wonderful it’ll be when it’s all done… like taking your feet out of tight boots at the end of a long day, or sliding that splinter from under your fingernail in a hot bubble bath. The discomfort is almost worth the relief.

Most of my New Year’s resolutions have bitten the dust already. How are yours doing?

AND I’ve developed a frozen shoulder. Humph. 

But thank goodness I have my ‘do less’ and daily writing practices still going. An extra hour in bed with a hot water bottle and a cup of cacao with nutmeg and frothy oat milk in the mornings while I scribble in my little book. 

AND I’ve realized a long-held dream!

…But then I think – was it a Wonderful Dream or more of an Incurable Problem… ? Either way, it’s something that’s been dogging me for at least 20 years. I’ve tried and failed so many times on this one. I’ve reached out for help and still not managed it. I began to think it was a hopeless case. It had got to the stage where I thought, “You’re just going to have to accept this one, Toftie. Nothing can be done…. It’s an unachievable goal like eternal youth, effortless joy or a flat stomach.” 

And it’s been getting worse each year. I’ve made it mean that I’m not really good enough… as if I have a dirty secret and someone is going to find me out one day. And although my problem is glaringly obvious, others appear not to see it. Or perhaps they see it and it doesn’t bother them. They can ignore it with apparent ease. It just passes them by. So it feels as though I’ve gone a tiny bit mad, worrying about something I cannot do and nobody else has even noticed. An insurmountable problem. An unattainable dream. Do you have anything like that in your life or is it just me?

It took a visit from my sister and 10 days hard labour, but WE CLEARED OUT MY STUDIO! I could not be more grateful for this life changing experience (THANKS SIS’) but the emotional and physical tremors are only just starting to subside almost a week later. We stretched ourselves to the limit and in the middle of it all we even admitted that it could not be done.

Over 30 years of sketchbooks, ideas, paintings, unfinished projects, writings, saved things, rubbish and good stuff has been removed from my studio. I let go of lots of beautiful things… They have found new homes to be appreciated in. And in exchange I have a clear, current, creative space to work from. The impossible dream. Every chest and suitcase and drawer has been emptied. Papers have been shredded, recycling has been collected, rubbish has been tipped, Facebook Marketplace has been flooded and scrap stores overloaded. And we are still standing. It doesn’t seem real. There’s still a lot in here, but I can see the walls! We got rid of five sets of shelves and all their contents. Marvellous! Are you curious to see the work I was doing 30 years ago? Would you join me at an Archive Sale in my studio this April? It is a final total clearout. An ‘everything left must go at knockdown prices’ kind of a deal. Keep reading.

In April I will be opening my private studio – for one weekend only – and having my first Archive Sale! Saturday 13th and Sunday 14th April 11-5pm. Showcasing old work and new, with plenty of bargains. New jig dolls, new ceramic Dorises, new framed paintings, sold out prints, old drawings & etchings, loads of cards and original work from the past 30 years. I have a storeroom FULL of undiscovered treasures at truly clear out prices, so save up your pocket money (there are no credit card facilities) and I hope you’ll join us for a weekend in windy Brighton-by-the-Sea at Brown Dog Studio, 12 Chapel Mews, Hove, BN3 1AR. You could make a weekend of it and stay overnight? There’ll be new bargainous stock each day as our creaking tables won’t hold it all. And accommodation options from hostels and Premier Inn to mini boutique hotels and the Grand! Toftie Towers is full, as my sister (of www.mustardhampers.co.uk) and her daughter Serafina are coming to help. And Amber from @littlemustardclub and Graham my long-suffering other half. I’m sorry so many of you won’t be able to make it. There are too many things (and too cheap!) to list online. But there will be a small selling exhibition from www.samtoftoriginals.co.uk at the same time, details below.

Big love from rainy windy BYOOTIFUL Brighton!!!

Sam Toft

X

Dear friends,

I wasn’t going to write again until the New Year announcing my BIG Studio Clear Out Sale in Brighton, and then I thought “Let’s make a Christmas Splash with all those galloping circus ponies and hand-trained baby penguins I’ve been keeping up my sleeve…” but time just ran away with me. Instead, I’ll just be wishing you lots of luck with all YOUR festive plans. Let me know how it goes! Will your December be seasonally sociable, full of family and friends, or (my favourite) hunkering down with a warm dog and a good book?

I’ll be having a bit of a ‘homemade’ Christmas this year. I’ve been learning to throw pots on the wheel (at the rather brilliant Pottery Gagliano in Brighton and Leach Pottery in Cornwall) and I have a few wonky bowls and such to fill with spiced nuts, homemade truffles, scented candles, little pies and Boxing Day Walk granola bars. I’ve also been making a few little Christmas sketches while rifling through the cookery books.

There are giveaways on social media this week, but if you don’t do the Facebook/Instagram thing, Nan is including a lovely original coloured drawing with December orders of our Crookleigh Chronicles boxed sets. All wrapped in tissue with a little bookmark and authenticity certificate they are the most precious treasures to discover, gift or keep. I’ll try to put a few little drawings for sale in our NEW Club Room too, so look out for them (and I’m sorry if I promise things and don’t get time… there would most probably only be one or two anyway).

If you are having a homemade Christmas or are on a budget, it’s always free to browse through our websites or revisit the YouTube channel. There are so many vintage vids on there (from when I had hair and lots of energy!), and please join us on Instagram or Facebook or send an e-card.  (Note that e-cards sometimes get stuck in spam filters so don’t rely on them for important information.)

I’m going to light a fire and do some baking to warm the place up while I do those Christmas sketches. Anybody else living in a cold old house like me will probably be shuffling around in big slippers wearing a hat, scarf and blanket. And actually appreciating the night sweats for once! Aren’t WE the lucky ones!?!

Until the new year, I’ll love you and leave you,

Big love,

Sam Toft

X

I once had a small dog.

I called him Stanley Philpot.

I have to say from the first moment I saw his funny face I was completely entranced. I’d never had a small dog before and this little man tested me almost beyond my limits. Is that a thing with small dogs? Whereas Moses and Betty had a straightforward intelligence, Stan had his own bright ideas about everything.

Roughly the shape of a dachshund but with untidy ringlets, an undershot jaw and wayward teeth. Those shiny black curls fell luxuriously from his head and ears but fell short along his back to be replaced with a flat silvergrey fluff. Straggly waves covered his short fat legs. On our walks, passersby would look around him and compliment my very handsome big dogs. Just as at a family wedding our eyes flick past the adult bridesmaids and rest instead on the 5 yr old flower girl in her blush pink fairy dress with flower crown. But I absolutely adored my little Stan. I drew him obsessively. Almost as if drawing him would give me a way inside that mischievous brain of his. I designed a range of cards crowning him The World Famous Stanley Philpot. Still available I think from Art Press Cards, but I can’t quite bear to look. His antics were legendary.

I remember finding my precious vintage Cornishware bowl (plus antique silver sugar tongs) behind his bed one afternoon. I had been looking for them all week. He had managed to find his way up onto the dining table and carried the bowl to his bed before demolishing the fancy brown sugar cubes within. And all without breaking a thing. My, how I’d love to know how he pulled off that stunt.

He was such a good dog for problem solving. He had a keen sense of smell, a voracious appetite and an enviable dedication to his tasks. He would chew through coat pockets and metal treats tins, driven wild by the possibility of the scantest of crumbs. If at all accessible he’d eat whole bags of dry kibble in one sitting. He’d snaffle the budgie’s millet, clear out the fish food, chomp away at fat balls left for the birds in the park … He could eat a whole box of Audrey’s chocolates and a packet of nuts and raisins with no ill effect. He once ate an entire hamper of my sister’s (delicious and precious) homemade Christmas goods overnight – including the wrappings – and was only slightly ill. A whole Dundee cake barely touched the sides.

As he grew older, not surprisingly, he lost some teeth, and his whiskers turned a fetching grey to match his silvery back perfectly. His cloudy eyes blinked in heartfelt devotion directed towards anyone with a packet of crisps or a spare sandwich. He’d go missing for hours and I’d find him waiting patiently under picnic tables or high chairs. And, yes, I wormed him regularly.

I must say he was a little rascal for most of his 15 years. Every time I walked through a door I’d hold my breath trying to guess what fresh mischief he’d found. And perhaps because of that I miss him still. Sometimes in the middle of the night I reach out for him and he’s not there. The powerful comfort of his cuddles is irreplaceable.

Over those last months I drew him a lot. His little torpedo shaped body and dusty curls. He grew fatter and more boney at the same time. He looked at me a lot and I guessed at what he was wanting to say. I had a feeling that I never wanted to stop drawing him because then I would have to let him go. Which of course I did, as we all must. And now there’s a part of me who can’t really remember having such a naughty pup as Stanley Philpot. He came and he left. Like coming back from a holiday and you can’t quite believe that you actually went.

Often to comfort myself when my dogs grow old, I do Fantasy Dog Buying. It’s a bit like walking past a house you will never own but at the same time you can just imagine where your sofa would go. For my fantasy dog I almost always go for a Harlequin Great Dane called Big. And Tiny Tim a little blonde chihuahua. Or let’s face it – any dog I see who gives me a second glance. Which is why I am so looking forward to drawing your dogs at Panter and Hall next week. I was delighted to include Club Members’ Pets in my paintings for the show and now I’d like to invite three of you (with or without your 4 leggers) to come along.

It’s an exclusive event with a very limited guest list. There’ll be a live charity auction for Wild at Heart Foundation, pet sketches for donations to the charity, a short film being made, a live podcast and a photographer to capture the event. You’ll be at the biggest show of my career, with sparkly wine and treats for the pups… I’d love you to join us!! You’ll be rubbing shoulders with such starry guests as my mum, Nan Mustard, as well as my sister Louise and brother Tim who will be running the auction. The gallery list is FULL but I have room on my personal guest list for 3 Club Members. Wish it could be more but to leave room for all the people who have already bought a picture and would like to bring their dog, it’s Fire Regs I’m afraid. It’s on 9th November at Panter and Hall, 11-12 Pall Mall, Big London and the first 3 to contact me with their club numbers will join me as my guests.

If you are unable to make the Private View, you can visit the show between 8th and 18th November (see www.panterandhall.com for opening times). I’ll also be uploading the short film when it’s made so you can experience the show from your sofa.

Well if you’ve got to the end of all that lot you deserve an extra biscuit!

I wish you all the love from my cosy sofa in Brighton where I’m supping Lemsips and catching up on all the emails. The weather is crazy wet and windy outside but I’m just about to bundle up and head out into it. Betty doesn’t mind the weather. Not like Stan. I used to have to carry him underneath my cape. And he wasn’t light. Today I’ll be thinking of my Curly Top as I wonder at the foaming sea with watery eyes.

Big love,

Sam Toft