A bit rubbish but fun

So last Sunday was a beautifully hot day and I strode forth laden with art equipment. Trip-trap, trip-trap across the troll bridge, plonking myself down near a favourite line of horse chestnuts.

I soon realised that having done naff all observational work for twenty odd years, I was, to put it mildly, out of practise.

But it was fun - and that was the point. I learned about what I was bad at and what I didn't know, which I will use next time.

After my first fumbling effort I bravely sought another sketching spot, walking a mile or so across the fields and up to the oak trees which straddle the top of this hill.

I had a messy little picnic of three boiled eggs, a somewhat melted chocolate bar and orange squash, then did some more scribbling. The sun had gone in and the colours flattened. I was even less impressed with my second attempt.

But, you know, I was out in the sun and air on my own for nearly five hours, walked over five miles round and round about, exercised artistic muscles which haven't been flexed for a long time and had a jolly good time doing it. I've also been incredibly touched and soothed by so many lovely, kind comments on my last post; thank you for making me feel a lot better than I did.