Fbg 6.3
Creative today...in Procreate.
But first, a story. A true story.
J and I would go round gardens of stately homes. Sometimes there would be a hermitage carved in sandstone or something. J would sit on the stone bench, both hands round his twisty long walking stick, head bowed a little, and meditate.
Before long some children would wander in and look wide eyed at this white bearded apparition with the green velvet brimmed hat hiding his face. The children would rush out, and come back in dragging a grown-up.
The grown-ups would say 'shh' to the children, who wanted to ask questions.
Meanwhile J was still deep in meditation. But then one bold child would go up and touch J on the knee. J's head would slowly rise. 'Are you the hermit who lives in this cave,' the child would ask. (But if it was December, J would get asked if he was Father Christmas, to which he would reply 'Yes'.)
J would say he was the resident hermit in this cave. And before long there there was a group of children seated in front of him. The children would ask questions, and J would answer. And then he would go on to tell them stories. The grown-ups listened intently as well.
After a long time had passed, the grown-ups would say it was time the children went home. They would go up and shake J's hand.
And just J and I were left in the hermit's cave. Then we went home.
I often wondered what the Stately home people thought when their visitors came back, asking where the resident hermit was today...
I give you the essence of J....
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. Must be a job for the newly demoted JRM. Brexit Opportunities my Jim Royle. Well, apart from a superb new lorry park covering most of Kent.
