by Patrick | Dec 21, 2024 | art, art as language, BRotS, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, painting, photography, Remembrance
In my last post in November, I wrote of my mental confusion and the twists and turns I was making to find a way forward with my work. Since then, I have done plenty of work with the camera, but the problems remained unresolved. I am beginning to realise that many of...
by Patrick | Oct 27, 2024 | art, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, photography
As October drifts to an end so we change our clocks – or not, depending in part on the clock. Clocks on computers change automatically, supposedly the car is linked to house Wi-Fi so should change with the computer but won’t, so will stay on French (or wherever) time...
by Patrick | Jul 15, 2024 | art, education, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, wilderness
One of the first things I do in the morning in my every day routine is as I come downstairs, I turn right while the cat sits and waits, posing. He knows what I’m doing, I’m going to turn on the computer and collect the camera from the office. I then return past the...
by Patrick | Jun 9, 2024 | acrylicpainting, art, art as language, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, painting, pastels, photography
We moved to the seaside when my partner retired as she was born in this area and waited tables in a local caff as a teenager, having happy memories of the coast. Her roots were here, whereas my RAF upbringing wedded my heart and soul to England but not to any one...
by Patrick | Apr 19, 2024 | art, art as language, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, photography
It tickles my cheek, this flicking furry tail. I snake a hand out from under the duvet and rub his head. Fumbling, I struggle to see the luminous glowing hands on my watch face. 05.55. Early but light is coming under the curtains and cat is doing the ‘I’m starving’...
by Patrick | Dec 11, 2023 | art as language, Environment, Garden, Lifestyle, photography
Once Upon a Time there was a writer of fairy tales, Hands Christian Andiscat. Known as the ‘whether-man’, every day he would emerge from beneath his warm bedding and wrapped in his dressing gown Hans would sally forth into the garden where he would try to feel whether...
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