I managed to do a few paintings on a short art break to Wales, staying in a tiny village at the foot of Mount Snowdon, Betws Garmon. An idyllic place. Of course you had a view of the perfect mountain range from the front door step, in addition, however, you are also provided with a clear as glass stream full of trout. And a steam railway at the end of the garden, which you can thumb down for a lift and hop on when you like.
Just around the corner I painted a caravan in a field. The owner pops around each evening and mows the field. The field is tended so well you could bowl on it. I asked him what he was preparing the field for. Tourist camping maybe? It turned out to be nothing whatsoever, he just seems to like mowing. He mowed I painted.
We popped over to Bangor for a while. There was a chap and his wife running a small kiosk on the pier. They sold crab lines and tea towels etc. He was not Welsh so I asked him what brought him to Wales. ‘Ohhh’ he said with a worried face. ‘I couldnt’ stand the rat race of Dorset!’ No need to ask whether he had ever lived in London.
Just down the road was the local church. I am generally used to painting empty churches. This one was full. Full of song as much as people. Big rousing Welsh chapel songs. Very tidy! I sat painted in the churchyard all the way through two services. I had company mind. A mouse, it which flitted in and out of my feet looking for scraps. They have plenty of these in Hackney.
[contentblock id=1]
