I wanted to call it ‘Osprey at Loch Garten’, but a few people have always found my painting of a pigeon, with the word ‘Peregrine’, slightly confusing. Some have even commented on the likeness!
Loch Garten is the place to be to see Osprey. They’ve been nesting there for ages with cameras and scopes aimed at all angles, and the visitor centre has a telly to see the young in the nest close up. My own photos were rubbish, (come to think about it – I should’ve taken one of the telly), so the Wigeon that stalked us over lunch is the next best thing. Lunch, obviously, was beside the loch, where we sat and waited for the real stars to come and hook salmon dramatically and majestic like. We wondered if these pampered celebrities prefer their fish battered, and found it easier to feed from the bins of the local chippy. Now that would’ve been a photo…
A wise man once said ‘Say what you see’. Sunset public toilets. This is from a series of great but slightly repetitive sunset photos on a beach campsite in Northwest Scotland. Yes we had a view of the loos, but we also had basking sharks and dolphins. For us, beach sites in Scotland mean windy but midge less, so you can appreciate a good sunset without being eaten alive. Instead, jellyfish avoidance tactics were needed. When we left this place we pretty much hated every other inland site we stayed at. Rain or midge. Ginger wine.
In other news, some of the pics I have already posted I have been looking at too much and may start to tinker with… Are these things allowed? Do I need to state ‘work in progress’ on everything?
Sunny days!
At the end of the park sits this long railway tunnel which we would shout and echo our way through on the daily trek to the swimming pool. Passport to Leisure. Cola Cubes. The ‘No Cycling’ sign used to be on a pole and we naturally assumed it meant ‘No Cycling On This Pole’. A rule we would strictly abide by. Oxtail soup. Marathons.
Other exciting things that happened on the other side of the tunnel were the fireworks on Bonfire night and the fair. Frankie said relax and we did as we were told. Waltzers. Wall of Death.
I’m not being miserable – it’s the sun in my eyes. I’ve tried this as a painting before, but blowing up a 4 inch early seventies photo to a metre square doesn’t produce the best results, and the girl in the poncho attached to my arm is even more miserable. I mean the sun is in her eyes too.
Painting in landscape means you can’t see my lovely trousers that actually hooped under my feet. Fine until I started growing. I’m hoping this photo is out of my system now.
Moving on…
My old old phone had a no megapixels camera but took some great photos. This captures the movement of my reluctant sitter’s hand as she waves and screams ‘No Pictures’. This was early on in our relationship and I have ignored her pretty much since then. See 008 and look out for Weymouth and Christmas.
In other news, I have managed to put all the boards up on the wall in a grid, including the unpainted ones. All looks very daunting but I’m glad I’ve got that out of the way.
I have also run out of printing ink.
