Saturday 5th January


I’m, trying to write about a journey along the banks of a river,
people we meet, their stories, animals, names, idiosyncratic car
livery. The things people make with their own hands. Art Brut,
Outsider Architecture, recollections of living in the edgelands.
Hand painted signs, local business, domestic garage evolution.
Spray shops, office sheds, larchlap fences patched with prams &
for sale signs as weeds devour concrete that cut across fields
disappearing into bushes. I’m trying to write a story,
but the violence is too near for me to take my eye off reality &
slip into art. Imagination on hold, back in it’s box for protection,
waits for a cessation in hostilities to come back out to play.