Sunday Scribblings - An Assignment [Or Daisy Lupin's version of one]

We are supposed to go out 'in the field' and loiter, watching people, until we find someone we can write a character sketch on. Imagining what they are doing etc etc. Well, I'm afraid I'm too busy to go into a town and hangabout and I can just see the bemusement if I was to loiter with intent in my village, with pen and pad, 'playing spies are we Daisy?'. So thinking laterally, and of course, creatively, a thought cloud pinged in my head and this is the result.

Remember, I told you about the country bus I sometimes take into the local town. To give you an idea, there is a 'straight the way there bus' which uses the A road and goes from the town through my village and onto the next market town, time taken thirty minutes. Then twice a day there is what I call 'the country bus' that winds pleasantly through the highways and byways, still going from one town to the other, time taken one hour and thirty minutes. This is a small bus, not too busy and I love to get it, no one but the people from the off the beaten track villages bother with it. I have it in mind one day, to travel the whole route on this bus and see where the regulars board and disembark, after all I am a great peoplewatcher.

However, back to the task in hand. There is a regular on this bus, on a Tuesday, that I have often mused about, so here is the description and what I think about him.



When I board the bus, he is always sitting on the second seat on the left-hand side, by himself. I have never seen him in any other seat. Do people know on a Tuesday that that is his seat and leave it for him or what? He never, ever speaks to anyone on the bus, but still has a cheery expression on his face. He always looks content and rather pleased with himself. He must be about eighty and he is certainly a dapper little chap. He is tiny, for a man, about 5ft 3ins, and very very slight, as though a puff of wind would blow him over. He has the most luxurious, beautiful pure white hair, always well brushed and slightly long at the back, just falling over his collar in a bohemian way. He has no beard but a spectacular, thick white moustache that turns up at each end. He has a windbeaten face with two rosy red apple cheeks, and he always carries a long beautifully marked wooden walking stick.

He dresses with the seasons, immaculate clothes, in summer he wears a cream linen suit of ancient design but beautiful cut and a panama hat. I have even seen him on occasion wearing spats. The other day he had on beautiful heavy cord trousers in a sort of loden colour, an incredible rust tweed, with tiny yellow flecks, jacket and his shoes are never dull but always highly polished, on this day they were brown brogues. On his head he wore a tweed hat. I noticed, as I was sitting opposite him that he wore mustard coloured wool socks, pulled very tight without any creases in them, they matched his mustard coloured waistcoat, underneath which he always wears a white shirt with a one colour checkline, that day it was pine green. He had a neckerchief tied around his neck. He summed up autumn in his attire. He never ever carries anything about but his stick, not like the other old men that look self important with their oldfashioned zippered shopping bags, or 'trolley boy' as the old ladies call him, a bad tempered old man who tries to demand a double seat to park his wheeled shopper, and shouts if anyone has to move it so they can sit down. Ah, once now I come to think of it he carried a countryman's flap over pouch bag once, you know the sort you can put game etc in

.

He gets off at the terminus in the bus station, and goes about his business. I once came home on the same bus as him. Not an item did he carry, just his walking stick, I often wonder what he does in the town, does he buy items that are delivered to his house or does he go to the library to read, I can't imagine that he comes in to go to the cinema, perhaps, he has a lady friend that he meets for coffee. Unless I happen upon him by chance, I can never know, I certainly would not dane to follow him, as he knows me from the bus, and that could be embarrassing.

I have spoken to him, a nod and a hello, for that is the country way, he has never answered me back, but does recognize me by flashing a smile at me, a smile that makes his eyes twinkle and crinkle. He is always on the Tuesday country bus and I am taking it for granted that everyone else sees him on it too not just me.

The above is a true description of an old man that gets that bus, he really doesn't communicate with people, but seems content, who knows he could be a wood elf or leprechaun for all I know.

The three cards above are the latest collages I have done. The first one is a collage postcard, for a swap I am involved in, This is called 'Every morning she comes early to feed her messenger birds'. The green ATC is called 'Social Butterfly' and the pale blue one is 'Victorian Fairy Dreams' these two are ATC birthday cards, for a birthday club I am in.


This afternoon I spent some time browsing art sites on the web, mostly ethnic or folk art sites. This wonderful sculpture opposite by Bill Worrell, took my breath away, I probably shouldn't have it on my site but I wanted to put it up there to encourage you to look at this man's wonderful work. Here is a link, I hope it works,
http://www.billworrell.com/ I suppose any of you who live in the US may already know his work, but it is completely new to me. I am totally in love with them. I also found some other wonderful sites, that bit by bit I will share with you, but at the moment I am so inspired by what I have been looking at that I need to go somewhere quiet, my front room lit by candlelight, probably to think deeply about the wonderful things I have seen today and what they are giving to me for my art.

Please excuse any dreadful typos or spellings today, as I am in a rush and can feel I am not concentrating properly when I read through, and my spell checker is having one its useless days quibbling with me all the time.

Don’t forget to join in Daisy Lupins’
Halloween Ghost Story Posting
Post a ghost story, something strange that happened
To you or a tale you want to tell
On 31st October, or as near to before
As possible.
Let’s have a Giant Story Circle