I stopped painting when eventually I became impossibly cold.
The sun went in, and the cool breeze became an icy nip.
I was sitting on the dog quilt, and the dogs sat on it too, curled up tightly against my back, and shivering unhappily.
This helped me stay quite a bit warmer, although the shivering did not help with the fine lines and steady hand.
It has been lovely.
We woke up, here at Elspeth’s Outdoor Pursuits centre, in the blissful state of having nothing urgent to do, and no need to rush about.
We sat in bed drinking coffee for ages, and looking out of the window at some little finches stripping all of the seeds out of dandelion clocks. They were very efficient at it, and spat out the feathery bits.
Eventually the groundsman turned up and started bashing about his day’s labours, and we thought, guiltily, that perhaps we ought to get up.
We did not immediately start bashing about to keep him company. Elspeth’s Outdoor Pursuits centre is on a little rocky promontory between two rivers idling down to the sea.
It was the most glorious crystal blue morning, and so instead of getting on with work, we went for a walk.
I am sure that there are some geographical names for this sort of place, but geography was one of the subjects to which, foolishly, I did not listen with any great enthusiasm at school. Hence there are all sorts of interesting landscape features in the world about which I know nothing whatsoever. Mark was not taught geography at all, because of the dyslexia which made him not able to read and write, and so his school didn’t let him do proper lessons, he was made to be in a remedial class which did not learn anything.
He has made up for it since by teaching himself to read, and reading lots and asking questions of anybody who knows what they are talking about. This is very useful, because it means that he can explain things to me, like glacial deposits and rock formation, so it does not at all matter that I did not pay attention.
We walked up the little hill overlooking the sea. Mark said that it used to be all under water once, and I did not believe him, but when we got to the top he showed me a layer of little seashell fossil marks in the rocks, which were limestone. There were lots of them, so it must have been, that is a very lot more sea than we have got at the moment.
It was the most splendid morning, really it was. We stood on the top and gazed out for miles and miles, across the muddy estuary, and the golden, but utterly treacherous sands where all those poor Chinese cocklers met their terrible end, and out to the still, grey sea. Mark pointed out places where he does rural broadband, and told me about the way the radio waves change with the tide.We stood on the top in the warm sunshine, and held hands and thought what a beautiful world it is.
The tide turned whilst we were there, tugging with it a chill little wind, so we turned round and strolled back down the hill, smelling the hawthorn and watching the bees busy in the dandelions.
We had to get on and do working things then, and Mark took Elspeth’s trailer to pieces whilst I did some more repainting.
There is a picture of some yellow steps on my door. They had faded dreadfully, and some of the paint had chipped off.
It was such a long job, and really it isn’t finished yet. Obviously it was much quicker than the first time I painted them, because the picture is there already, and just needs painting over, a bit like a Painting By Numbers book. All the same, it is still slow and painstaking, with lots of careful smudging and blending.
Painting is not exactly energetic work, and after a while I was so cold I could hardly feel my fingers.
Mark dressed me in his big quilted overall, which made him laugh very much. It was so heavy, and so enormous that I could hardly move, but it did not matter, because I was just sitting in one place and painting.
Even that was not warm enough, and after a while I added a scarf and woolly hat and padded jacket over my shoulders.
Somebody said on Facebook, so it must be true, that this is the coldest April since records began, and it jolly well might be.
In the end I had to give up and come in, and I thought I would write to you whilst Mark puts the trailer back together.
This means that I will be able to have a glass of wine with a clear conscience tonight.
Have a picture of the sea.
LATER NOTE: Mark says there was not more sea, probably just that a deeper channel has worn away further out in the bay, which would account for it.
