I thought about posting at length about the weather – again – but I see that it is easy to become obsessed about it: last night the house was vibrating in the wind. Solid stone walls. Vibrating. Enough.
Today was just as predicted by the Met. Office: sunshine with squally showers in the late afternoon. I walked to the ancient village of Old (obviously) Scatness via a detour to Grutness Pier, whence sails the Fair Isle boat once a week in the winter. I would like to go to Fair Isle, but three and a half hours on a boat at this time of year? There is a flight every day, but I’m not sure I fancy that, either.
The old buildings around on the road to the pier are full of useful rubbish, stored against a rainy day. Or not, as the case may be. Some stuff is piled up in an optimistic fashion; other stuff has probably just been put down and forgotten.
I keep having to remind myself that I have the luxury of being able to return to interesting locations nearby; normally I have one attempt only – walk, draw while walking, return to the studio and do a bigger drawing or a splashy map-cum-painting. Here, I really cannot do big and splashy, unless I work outside on the ground – which hasn’t been possible yet because of the W. word. But I can go back and have a “proper” go at drawing something that has caught my eye. Tomorrow. If it’s fine…
