A friend said he would sit for a quick portrait as long as he would not be.identifiable! I did a painting in bright blocks of colour. It’s a small acrylic on board
At the end of the session he took it home. It’s called Harly-Quin.
Quick portrait
Noise, traffic, pollution
Name your top three pet peeves.
They go together
Revved engines
Traffic fumes
The smell of petrol and diesel.
More than pet peeves
Dangerous to the planet
But when a motorbike
Or a car,
Revs it’s engine at the bottom of our hill
Then speeds up
Exhaust banging
Then I’m really peeved!
Sunset
While I was at the group art exhibition yesterday I did some painting. One of them was this small oblong painting of an apple tree at sunset. This is a little work in progress. I’m trying not to muddy the colours. The sky needed to be light and fresh. More to do? More leaves, maybe a little better blending of the blues. Acrylic on canvas.
Heart felt
Every so often I find a heart, and I smile and remember, I’m not alone.
Memories grip me, I remember clear days, driving through country lanes, visiting old houses, happiness, times spent together.
It doesn’t have to be a leaf, I see hearts in swirls of coffee, puddles, holes in crumpets, flower petals, it’s just some random pattern that leads me to loving feelings, caring, comforting, companionable love.
And I’m glad.
Autumn Puddle
Autumn puddle, a rather strange painting I finished today. Acrylic on canvas.
I started by picking up some leaves and tried to paint them and get the colours right. It then got left while I was not feeling well so I decided to try and do more work on it. I think I’ve not done too badly. The leaves are now floating in a puddle reflecting a blue and white sky. Should I do more to it?
Muttered words
Does anyone else mutter extra words after they have finished a phone call? I just caught myself doing it, adding a little comment when my caller had ended the call. It wasn’t rude, just something along the lines of ” oh leave me alone”, but it could have been multiple phases. I think it must be something to do with being tired. It was just that I realised I might not have hung up properly. But no it was OK. I wonder how often this habit occurs? I shall have to be careful!
Welsh Beach
Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?
I don’t know any tropical beaches, but I love the British coast. It’s often rugged and rocky, with rock pools to explore. Sand castles and seahorses to draw in the sand. Looking at barnacles and looking for crabs and fish trapped by the tide. Sandflies on seaweed. Finding out about local tides and how the moon affects them. I particularly like the Welsh coast as its so varied and interesting.
Lighthouses and Ancient burial sites, castles on headlands guarding ports. Welsh names to try and pronounce. Islands and boats, fishermen and tiny villages. I love it.
Past book?
I keep getting ads in my time line to order my 2024 past book now.
Anyone who follows me will know I don’t need reminding. I have had the worst 12 to 24 months in my life that I never want to live over again. I hope to get through December and have a better start to 2025, although I worry about geopolitics. I don’t want one! I don’t want reminding, please don’t make me!
OK that’s enough..
There were good times too, I have some good photos, but I’m not in the mood to share. I’ll hoard those to myself, keep them safe.
Where are you?
I saw you in a dream
Echoing through my head
High on a hill,
Climbing a crag
Cycling on narrow roads
Blossom twined in your hair
Life in the 70’s
All love and peace
Working at Machynlleth
You saw Dylan
At the isle of Wight
Your free spirit
Was my joy untold
When I met you, so bold
Never enough time to be
In that world with you
Dragged into work
Instead of adventure
With you.
How do I feel?
How to describe how I feel at the moment? Cold, boggy, marshy. With a dollop of cat trying to cheer me up. Trying to keep my thirst topped up as a drizzle of germs escape my pores.
The cold is in my house, November is wet and drear now, the snow melting into puddles, possibly around my feet. A muddy, gritty, sloppy mess. My central heating works downstairs, but I can’t sleep in heat so the radiators remain off upstairs. The cats are clothed in fur so are OK. My clothes are warm enough with a brown dressingown to top it off. I need scrooge’s nightcap and a candle to make it perfect.
Hands increasingly wrinkled, my ribs a sheet of ice that crackles under the skin. Stretch too much and it pulls on the margin of the cartilage. I’m feeling my age, and slowly seeing it emerge from my mess of greying hair.
I don’t normally like to be too descriptive, but today I’ve just tried to give it a go.
Mallaband-Brown 