Not able to paint today so I’ve been scratching around (as is my want) looking through a very large pile of acrylics paintings made over the past two years. Not all of them are good by a long chalk but this one leapt out and put a smile on my face:
“Bikeman”, Acrylics on paper, 59x42cm.
This , of course, is my grandson Harrison in an all-in-one waterproof jumpsuit and flying helmet sitting on a little bike that served his father well at about the same age.
On my wanderings up and down the Glen I always stop at a place I call The Race which is my description of how the river races down over flat slabs of rock and plunges into a deep pool, smoothes out, gurgles around, and then makes off in a sedate manner on it’s onward journey. I always stop there and lean over the barrier to contemplate the Meaning of Life [42, since you ask].