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HarcourtArt

  Taking to the paths of south west France, wandering from village to village with the prospect of lunch in shirtsleeves on that predictable pavement table and perhaps a dip in the river afterwards, takes on a whole new reality when the rain is more horizontal than it it is ever feels back home and our feet are wet. Well nearly all the time anyway. That means sketching becomes damp and blobby, very intermittent and somewhat less satisfying. But no! its fun and we had such a different time getting out the whole time walking all over the place, picking walnuts with ...

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Anyone strolling voluntarily within near range of a Russian border might be foolhardy, mad or simply curious for Georgia is one of those tiny wedges of a country at the end of the Black Sea partly occupied by Russia (in their inimitable style) as well as a northern border that ranges across the High Caucasus in which we we walking. Thankfully the mountains were high enough and ice clad with glaciers - albeit they were retreating - to act as a useful barrier for both the indigenous... and their guests. We pressed on into those massives at a level about ...

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A small project at home this week of the Coronation was to create a scareking, so the village have chosen to call it. So we obliged by going to the wardrobe in the barn and stuffing feed bags and tights with straw. Installations are such fun especially if short lived and fit the moment.  [caption id="attachment_2515" align="alignleft" width="768"] King Charles gardening at Panshayne Farm Yarcombe[/caption]                                                       And so this is how he turned up - to trim my hedge in time to make it smart for the 6th May 2023. He was remarkably agile and obviously had lots of practice at Highgrove whilst ...

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Everyday for ten days the rhythm was much the same. Enjoyable and arduous in equal measure and without doubt cathartic after a nasty bout of covid in the confines of the West Country.  As I make my way from Le Puy en Velay in the Auvergne and at five-thirty in the morning the rousings of fellow walkers would start: so that by first light we could step into the freshness of the day well before the unforgiving sun took hold.    Breakfast maybe a scratchy apology for nourishment as we clambered to get out to take full advantage of the early part of ...

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Who would ever have thought that to follow trails through a grecian mountain range might beat those azure blue island beaches and all the sun that goes with it. Well we did both and the novelty of the hills alive with no-one was a delight. Staying in high villages of a lost age where the building are fine and the aspects tremendous but alas devoid of the young and proper activity or even a shop. So that might be a detraction, though not really as we found the solitude of the hills, the ravines and the wonderful trees, a place ...

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If we couldn't get abroad we had to return to the old hunting grounds on the Cornish coast. The trick was to avoid the traffic and to get into a spot away from those who would normally be in the med. That was only possible by leaving a eleven at night and booking the lodgings two years ago and we squeezed north and south in all weathers. We got jabbed by the wind, jabbed by the rain and nothing else to worry about but food and our maps. Doubly good for the soul. Helford on the Lizard side - as glorious ...

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So where did the summer go as June faded into storms and the May heat left the ground beneath our feet?  With solid shoes, a coat and scarf I went down to the sea the first clear morning after midsummer and captured the mood.  A few days later the evening sky at home showed no compassion for us requiring warmth so we could eat comfortably outside. I bounced along the cliffs west of charmouth where old fashioned fields with a wild sward of healthy grasses abound with colourful  butterflies and tiny creatures loving the weather.   And larger beasts too cuddled up against the ...

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Like many the lockdown to us is at the same time as confusing to the rhythm etched into our dna as it is offering a strange liberation. But without end, there is a persistent search for what might come and out of that some good contemplation of ideas for the future. My method of adjustment partly took me to the fields around home at Yarcombe always within range of the closed church which I now notice slightly changes shape as each evening stroll was recorded onto paper. 

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