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July 2016
  -    -  July

  Stanford is a pretty village that consists of a few blocks of unpaved roads around the cricket oval, bounded by the river and the national coast road. Many of the Victorian houses have been refurbished into designer weekend cottages. Amongst which, are the unkept like poor relations, or those who clinging to 'originality', like a moth-eaten sweater. A fire welcomed us out of the

Great strides made by Mum as she moved from ICU to the general ward and the out of hospital. A bit of a road ahead before she will be mobile. Small painting finished of an aloe with snow covered mountains. 'The Preacher', on the easel. A portrait in the 'Homeless of Knysna' series. Wracked by the monsters of war, he is one of the

Lots and lots and lots of wine with Craig and the other Forest Marathon survivors, on a spectacular day, made for one of Coreta's braai feasts. Managed a 8km walk without to much squeaking from my Achilles. Wine the secret??:)  I'm now the proud owner of a pair of funky running shorts. No chance of ever being missed again. A couple of small paintings finished,

Adrenalin infuses each breath of Knysna as the Oyster Festival kick starts. Overboard for 29 hours, and surviving (a talk by Brett Archibald), seemed to make our 2 hour cycle insignificant. Although my sensitive bum might not agree! Somewhere between, storms and sunshine. Pizza. Red wine and laughter. Glowing fires and freezing hands. Worlds collide. This one. Gentle.  Lights in the studio changed to LED

The forest run, not an option, as I hobble about the place with my Achilles a bother. The light in the picture of Tlotlo, reminiscent of a Rembrandt portrait. The composition gave me a tough time as it didn't seem to sit comfortably on the canvas. I changed the orientation of the painting to give the portrait more space to breath. It seemed appropriate to