If you want to briefly escape into a world blissfully free of smartphones, tweets, corruption and crooked cops, you can always try tackling a jigsaw. It's very old fashioned, of course, but can be quite therapeutic.
The latest jigsaw I tackled was a reproduction of Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party, or for those artistically inclined, Le Dejeuner des Canotiers. If this sounds too posh, it's simply a handful of 19th century French artists and girlfriends partying and getting stuck into the wine in a restaurant overlooking the River Seine. There's a dog in it too, which I suspect is not called Rover.
The puzzle took longer than anticipated to complete. Matters weren't helped when, near finishing, it became clear that four pieces were missing. A completed jigsaw can look quite attractive, but with four gaping holes it had the opposite effect — it was plain ugly.
So what had happened to the missing pieces? As is always the case, the dog immediately fell under suspicion. He eats just about anything, so it would not have been above him to gobble up an internationally acclaimed work of art, albeit in jigsaw form. But the dog pleaded not guilty (two barks).
After a few weeks, three dusty pieces turned up under the sofa, where they had been keeping the jing-johks company. But that still left one missing piece and beautiful though the 1881 painting might be, it was incomplete. And it was definitely no longer therapeutic, but becoming extremely irritating, especially when visitors to the house commented "nice painting, pity about the missing piece".
It's a miracle
So, for the past two months, every day at the breakfast table I have been greeted by the annoying sight of the jigsaw with the missing piece, which incidentally was just under some chap's chin. It was a daily reminder of FAILURE.
Then, one morning last week while I was munching my cornflakes, I cast my eyes over the painting — something was wrong. I looked again. The jigsaw was mysteriously complete. There was no longer an unsightly gap under the chin.
It turned out that the husband of the late Ms Yasothon, Noi, who now looks after our house, was tidying up the appalling mess I had left on another table when out popped the missing piece. I wasn't around, so he had the honour of completing the jigsaw, although he didn't tell anyone. Hence my pleasant breakfast surprise.
Evil thoughts
The Renoir painting is quite a captivating work of art, even to my uncultured eyes. Actor Edward G Robinson once admitted: "For over 30 years I made periodic visits to Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party in a Washington museum and stood before that magnificent masterpiece hour after hour, day after day, plotting ways to steal it."
Soi of dead artists
While I appreciate art, I still struggle with things like a can of soup being hailed as an artistic masterpiece. Alas, I once earned a record low mark of 15% in my only ever art exam at school when I was 12. It seems the art teacher didn't appreciate matchstick men. Despite this unpromising beginning, since I was a teen I've always had a fondness for Impressionist paintings.
Cynics might suggest that my only association with the Impressionists in recent years has been sporadic visits to cocktail lounges on Sukhumvit Soi 33, with such names as Renoir, Degas and Monet.
Admittedly drinking in such cultural establishments somehow makes the beer slide down more easily. But I haven't been to the "Soi of Dead Artists" for years, and reliable sources inform me that most of those bar names have long since expired, just like the artists.
Eyes of the beholder
Over the years, the international art world has experienced a number of embarrassing moments. One of the most famous incidents occurred in 1961 when Henry Matisse's painting Le Bateau (The Boat) was on public display at the New York Museum of Modern Art for six weeks before someone noticed it was hung upside down. During that time more than 100,000 art connoisseurs had looked at the painting and commented on its texture and great sense of balance, without having a clue it was the wrong way up.
A few years later in 1965, Vince Van Gogh's Long Grass with Butterflies was briefly on show upside down before a young schoolgirl pointed out the error. Monkey business.
There was another entertaining incident in Frankfurt in 1978 concerning an exhibition of artworks featuring a hitherto unknown artist called Yamasaki. According to Stephen Pile's Book of Heroic Failures, the critics loved the exhibition, drooling over the "luminosity of colours" and "excitement of the powerfully dynamic brushwork". All 22 paintings were quickly sold for healthy sums.
The organisers then announced the artist would appear to answer questions. The crowd waited expectantly when in bounded a chimpanzee who was introduced as Mr Yamasaki. Apparently the chimpanzee had spent the previous few days throwing paint at the canvas, otherwise known as "powerfully dynamic brushwork".
Some of the experts who had forked over a lot of cash for the paintings were reportedly not too amused.
Sage-like advice
Finally a brazenly non PC observation on the art world from the late British newspaper tycoon, Lord Beaverbrook: "Buy old masters. They fetch a better price than old mistresses."
Sorry about that.
Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com.