This is it. It's sunny. Time to finish the yellow line. So I do and I think it's okay.
Later and I'm sitting in the studio looking at it and I get inspired and title it 'the end of the line' which I then write on it. More looking and then I go and get this idea of blocking in the bottom left hand corner all the way to the edge to emphasise the geometry of the composition. This I then do, painting over my title and other pencil marks, only to find it was a rubbish idea. I rub it all off and then try painting all the edges and then I rub this off and try again and again and it's all rubbish and in the end I get out the white spirit and rub everything back as well as I can to the white ground. Why didn't I leave it well alone? I settle for a thin green line of moss running to the edge and write the title on again. It looks to me like a dandelion seed head. Hmmmph.
Afternoon and it's still sunny so I wander up to the Marlborough tavern to finish 'STOP' (see how I've subtly titled it). The smells that dogged me last week are no more and it is a perfect day to paint. The main reaction to the picture seems to be surprise that anyone would choose to paint the view. I deliberately don't paint any traffic on what is one of the busiest junctions in Bath (according to a totally unbias survey carried out by me where I sample only me). One old lady asks, "Peter?" She obviously doesn't need to add a surname. She continues to explain that she used to see Pete painting around a bit and always wanted to take his photo, but never did and now she can't remember what he looks like. It's a sad tale, the obvious happy ending to which would be a realisation that I, yes I, could be the subject of such a photo (seeing as she doesn't actually know what Pete looks like) and her album (nay her life!) would be complete. But, no. She has no intention of whipping out her camera. Instead and, for some reason unbeknownst to me it's the 1st thing that springs to mind when confronted with obvious differences in appearance between me and the brown meister, I respond, "he's got more hair than me." What?! I'm wearing a hat for crying out loud. Why do I feel the need to burden her with this information? Oh yes, let's announce all my complexes to the world - tell her about my nose being much bigger. I might as well go on and explain the difference in our willy sizes. But of course I don't. Pete (and for that matter me) has never been known to paint with his willy hanging out as an aid to recognition. Where am I going with this?
Anyway, I like the painting.
Full on studio day as I try and paint two pictures of Venice. It's hard going, but I pretty well get there. I'm not sure either of them are finished, but they reach a stage where I think you can see how they are going to come out.
P.S. The astute among you will notice a subtle variation in the line drawings. Naturally you might assume that I have again been drinking prior to scrawling and this is probably true, but most of the variation is due to doing them with my left hand. Why oh why would I want to do such a thing? It's all part of a plan ....