The painter

This spot is just half a mile or so from our house.
It's truly a beautiful view, but it's only really when I see other people appreciating it that I am reminded of its amazing beauty.

We see it so often ourselves in daily life mode - whereas other people see it in holiday mode or completely new and for the first time mode.

As we drove past this chap sitting in the field painting, I longed to stop and take his photo but said nothing because we were on our way out for a family (minus the teens) walk.
A split second later Richard said, 'That would have made a nice photo.'
'Yes. It would. It really would,' I replied longingly.
So we went back.

I leant on the gate and called to the man that I'd like to photograph him at work.
He got up, paintbrush and paintbox in hand and held out his arms as he walked towards me questioningly. 'No English,' he said.
I waved my camera at him 'Can I take a photo of you? Of you painting?' And I pointed.
He smiled and went back to his seat.

'Parlo Français?' he asked. He clearly wasn't French!
I frowned and made the teeny tiny sign and answered 'Un peu.' Although I couldn't see either of us making any sense of each other in French!*

We both gave up. I took my photo and thanked him.


We've had a nice and busy weekend with my sister and her family staying at ours. I have to come back and fill in the missing blips.
Hopefully tomorrow.



*I'm rather ashamed of my communication skills to be honest.