Landscape Painter, Life Writer, occasional Nomad in perpetual pursuit of a dream
As the small plane banked, the world turned green. I had removed my nose from the windowpane when the solid blue sky of Perth became bubbly-white and then finally a dull, flat grey in confirmation of our suspicions, as we neared the island: the wet season means rain. Yet as we came in to land …
Lord, I believe that it’s raining all over the world I feel, like it’s raining all over the world Crawford, R. (1981) A Rainy Night in Georgia Warm, tropical rain pounding the tin roof of a safe, snuggly beach bungalow must be one of the most comforting, life-affirming sounds. Not so much, however, when it …
We’d talked about it a lot, over the years. ‘Next time you’re in Sri Lanka,’ Polly would say, ‘Pop over and see me.’ It sounded simple enough: Sri Lanka to Goa, where Polly takes the same apartment each winter, November to April. Just a short hop, and it’s even in the same time …
(An inspiring philosophy) I have been following ‘Sodium Haze’ on Substack and on Facebook and receive interesting articles, sometimes no more than snippets, by email every so often. I have not yet disagreed with a sentiment expressed, and occasionally I identify with the posts in a profound way. One such piece is shared below (it’s …
Sultry doesn’t quite cover it. We spend the days praying for a breeze. Not wind – which would bring choking dust and obliterating sand, beneficial for neither painting nor body – just a gentle rustle, enough to ruffle the tips of the palm fronds, and perhaps keep the flies at bay. It’s the date harvest, …
How often have you heard the phrases, ‘I’ve never been busier than since I retired!’ and ‘I don’t know how I ever found the time to work!’ ? Clichés, right? Perhaps not. While I am far from ‘retired’, it has now been two and a half months since I appeared at a set time at …
Not even a month has passed since I squashed my remaining belongings into Rusti, jolted down the birch-lined track of my temporary home in Achmelvich (a haven of peace and decompression where bullfinches, voles and a pine marten were daily visitors to the garden) and bid farewell to Assynt, yet it already seems a lifetime …
I thought it was time to park this here, now I’m getting ready to run away: an essay I wrote last year. PRIDE OF PLACE ‘You’re not from here!’ It is neither statement nor question. It is an accusation: I am an imposter, a fraud. A huge disappointment. Depending how gracious I feel, I might …
Two things need to happen each day to ensure I’m functioning fully as a responsible adult. Firstly, and before leaving the house: tea. Then later, preferably mid-morning, one perfect coffee, which acts as breakfast. If it’s not perfect, I might need to have another one, but this will be disappointing (and costly) on all fronts. …
