As I drove back from the gym this morning the rain had arrived in buckets. I spied an old man carrying bags on his way shopping obviously undettered. Either that or he had no choice.
I have tried to capture the general picture above in a little watercolour sketch. I noted when I finished it the brush I had grabbed to do it was my Windsor and Newton Series 7 number 6. This brush has a recommended price of just under £50. I never use it, I don't like it as I don't think it holds sufficient water/paint. I use a cheaper sable brush series. Anyway after buying it I let Windsor and Newton have my view. They must have been impressed as they never replied. Anyway to be fair it actually seemed okay for the sketch.
The sight of the gent reminded me of an incident that involved our son. He is a very sociable and personable lad. He has in the past stopped his car to help people change a tyre... Anyway last year he saw an old lady struggling with her shopping and walking out of town. He stopped and asked her if she was okay. She said she had missed the bus (there aren't many around here). He asked her if she needed a lift assuming she lived in Carmarthen. She thanked him and got in his car. He asked her where she lived and it turned out to be a village 25 miles away. It took him over an hour to get there and back, but he was happy enough. A week later he saw the same lady struggling with her bags walking passed the bus stop. He then twigged she often did this and paid no mind to the times of the buses. He didn't stop this time.
I love this painting. Here is a poem from my soon to be published collection of poetry. Your image captures what I wrote about perfectly.
ReplyDeleteA PENNY FOR THOUGHT
I sit motionless
in a rented sedan
watching the silent winter
fall on the empty street.
A wet brown leaf
tumbles like a memory
down the cold sidewalk.
Across the street
a wind-bent and hatless
old man waits
for the light to change.
His tattered trousers
flapping like surrender flags
against his frail legs.
Braced against a mail box,
he carefully lowers himself
onto the pavement.
He is halfway across
when a honking bread truck
narrowly misses him.
The old man studies
the truck for a moment
and then plods across
to the other side.
He pauses to wipe
the rain from his brow,
adjusts his ragged coat,
and with short choppy steps
he sets off up the street.
After a few yards
he stops and peers
down at the sidewalk.
with great effort
he bends to one knee
and picks up
a wet brown penny.
He examines the coin
as if it were a jewel,
and carefully puts it in his pocket.
A heavy rain begins to fall
as the old man turns back
and wanders towards the crosswalk.
I start the car up
and pull away from the curb.
The importance of this event
will remain undeterminable.