FINE TIME

Today the weather was magnificent, the sun shone on the sea as I watched a squadron of mine sweapers arrive into the bay of Saint-Malo in indian file, they were dwarfed by the huge white bulk of the Pont-Even, the flag-ship of Brittany Ferries, as she sailed towords the U.K. The sea was billiard table flat with hardly a breath of air pushing tiny wavelets towards the sandy shore. As I walked around the ramparts I reflected on my week in Ireland and how different the two countries are. On the inward journey as I came closer to Irelands green shores I felt more and more Breton/French.
On the way home to my family and friends here in Saint-Malo I became more and more certain of my Irishness.

The painting herewith is the replica of Endevour, captain Cooks ship, which was in port here sometime ago. It is a watercolour and has a matching view of the ship from the stern.

ON THE EDGE IN IRELAND

A pal of mine called Eoin O'Brien told me of one of his relations who passed away recently in Australia, he was by all accounts a bit of a 'tare-a-way', and his mother had carved on his toombstone.

"Unless you live on the edge you are taking up too much room".

What do you think?

DUBLIN CAN BE HEVEN

'Dublin can be heven with coffee at eleven and a stroll on Stephens green.'
I have just returned from a trip to Dublin, Limerick and Glenstal Abbey in County Limerick.

A mixture of business, culture, family, friends, painting and a wee bit of religion too boot. I shall write more about the subject over the next few days but in the meantime I will include a watercolour of a Dubliner who turned out to be a German jazz musician drinking a pint of Guinness.

STORM'S OVER

The storm's over

The tide's out

On the beach men are bending

Searching for cockles

Boats too lean over

waiting for tides to re-erect them.

The sea has run off into infinity

waiting to be called back

again and again and again........

St- Malo's flag

I have painted the city flag or 'pavillion' as they say in French. This one flies above the French tricolour in the city by order of the King and Emperor for services rendered by the city to the French state. Every citizen of the region knows it well.

Wind whistles

The shrouds all sing together when the wind tickles them.
The flags flap and stand to attention when the wind calls.
The sailors do their thing while the ordinary mortels run for cover.
The storm is here!

Cathedral square in the wind

When it rains it rains