OK, I told a little white lie.
It is the day after tomorrow that I am showing you the wood carvings by Stephen Henderson.
I am still trying to sort out the photographs but I think they are worth waiting for.
It amazes me that work of such fragile beauty is carved from driftwood and other pieces of wood and metal that have been discarded by the rest of us, things that have cluttered up our lives all find a way to be reborn under the hands of Stephen.
But, then he is in an ideal location for a man of his talents.
He lives in a building that was once an old 'PUB', which is hard to understand as it is in such a remote location with no road that leads to it, just a dirt track that takes you for miles until you arrive at what was once [many years ago] a thriving port.
Perhaps "port" is too grand a word, but it was certainly the centre of a thriving community.
Trading barges used to arrive daily from London, navigating there way up the tidal creek until they arrived at the wharf which is his home.
It is now so desolate and remote with only a few timbers showing where the jetty once was it really is hard to imagine, especially the idea of an Inn in such an uninhabited location.
But "back in the day" the waterside inn must have been a very welcome site after a long journey.
Now the only inhabitants apart from Stephen and his family are birds and water creatures.
These are the source of his art and the materials used to create it are found on his daily walks along
the shore and over the marshes that surround his house.
The home where he was born and has spent his entire life.
Unfortunately I have never taken a photograph of his studio [I'm sure he would call it a workshop],
even though I have visited many times and on every visit with the intention of doing so.
It is a beautiful wooden building set just yards from the creek and with a view that stretches for miles.
"Breathtaking" is a word that comes to mind, every visit I stand mesmerised looking at the scene.
The scene inside the studio is no less dramatic,
apart from the wood burning stove every conceivable table, floor and wall space is covered with sculptures in various stages of creation.
Many finished, some awaiting assembly or painting and many still as crude shapes of wood with outlines sketched upon them.
Outside the door are piles of driftwood, pieces of old boats, weathered timber from various parts of the country and various discarded bits and pieces, all awaiting to be converted into objects of beauty.
With these sculptures alongside the dynamic work by Sam MacDonald,
I just know that I am going to have a few weeks of pleasure enjoying my own private collection.
Of course they aren't mine but until the exhibition they are mine every day.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I think to myself.
"This job is better than working for a living".