Lament to Home

Oh england lost
my treasured friend,
please tell me.

Does your beck still run cold
over pebbles?
Do cricket whites still dot flat lime
and can you hear the clapping?

Oh my england lost
my deep embedded land
please remind me.

Do your blue bottles bump
into windows as distant sheep cough?
Do your horses swish
their tails in the shade
as tractors turn stripes for winter,
can you still smell the hay?

Oh my england lost
I am sorry
please forgive me.

I will swap all the flowers of Barcelona for
one walk through cows parsley.
I will give you the beach for the terrifying dash
over meadows with Molly, fearful of young boys
with wet mouths and big eyes.

Oh my england lost
I am sorry
please wait for me.

I’ll not again run for different grass
but wait for your spring (for however long)
and your loving summer (for however short)
I’ll not again swap dry for damp or cold wind for hot breeze
or yellow bubbles for flat brown beer.

I am yours.
My england
My oldest friend
Forget me not.

Yes I get homesick but believe it or not I am really happy here as well! I have been painting these past days and it gets me over emotional! I was painting a picture of an imagined tree, weirdly,  inspired by sitting in Miro park looking at his sculpture. The lime green in the painting made me think that I am missing the countryside, we live near a nice park Parc Del Guinardo, up on the hill looking over the whole of barcelona and the sea, its amazing. I miss the countryside at home as well but its so close I can nip out to the foundry and walk molly in the cotswolds on the way.

Painting seems to weird me out more than sculpture, I think its the colours, they made me think of aldeborough where I grew up and hanging about in the village, on the green, the cricket pitch was at the other end of this massive green and I never watched them but they were always there in the distance.

Often I played in the beck, feet cold from the running water, hours spent lifting up pebbles and cupping hands in wait for tiny fish that would get scooped up into plastic tubs from the doctors surgery. They would get hot and confused all day on the bank and then we would pour them back in again. it made me think of norfolk and gannny and grandpas house, they had sheep and horses and it was always really quite and blue bottles would fly about bumping into the window to get out, when it was open just below and they could have gone out and annoyed the horses, usualy though they got squashed with a crunchy noise by granny.

And the green painting reminded me of walks in the south west with my darling Graham and Molly and general escapades of trying to not get chased by cows, lifting molly over fences, walking for hours, all so we could enjoy a brown flat beer in a garden on the way…..happy days!!

No doubt when I am back in the green grass of home I will talk of my love of Barcelona! C’est la vie!
à bientôt

err….Castilian Carol…wrong country!

Just got back from walking the dog and feel quite at home here really, good to let off steam

End of a painting tuesday walk, me and molly

Over the other side of Parc del Guinardo out onto the 8,000-hectare Serra de Collserola Natural Park behind Barcelona 

looking north east up the coast, to the right of the three tower things is park del forum which we went to on sunday after going for a swim on the nearest beach that way, the sea is much fresher up that end. Still we were nose to tail on the beach! All 10 mins of that Graham managed. he didn’t have his book so he is a bit like Molly, just sits and waits for until he can go again. Still it was amazing going round the forum all totally empty. Graham said it is the biggest open park in europe? Its pretty weird though. The solar panel… ….sorry……but its awesome! The ride there was lovely all along the diaganol its shaded a lot of the way

me looking mental, did that thing where the phone flips round and you end up looking at yourself, dont have many pics of me so why not, probably wait till I have lost a stone to try that one again though!

 not much grass now to speak of but pretty all the same

Three ladies on a bench, one man on the other. And two pigeons. And a view, you can see the valleys of the cities streets.

Sagrada on the left and Montjuic in the distance

The willy building straight ahead and park cuitadela, green bit just below the tree on RHS near sea. The two tall towers head straight up to sagrada and the big brown bit at the front is the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau where we live next to

Miro park


I think this was my first cycle from sagrada to work and ended up in this park, sat and drew looking at the Miro sculpture, drew the family tree which I have now made into a painting. Def from Miro as it was done in front of his sculpture. But before I went to the foundation to see the rest of his work. The drawings were like the plants in cuitadela park, the people had the same shapes as the leaves behind and dissapeared into them. The drawings then became impossible sculptures.