Winter is definitely here.

Suddenly the days are shorter, darker and colder.

OK, it wasn't exactly sudden but I had been looking forward to having an Autumn.

Summer? They are so last years thing, we don't do them anymore.

Today we have had everything but snow here in the village, but I suppose we are lucky as I know that there has been snow falling nearer the coast.

Of course thinking of snow brings my thoughts back to Christmas, I don't know why it should as somehow nature usually conspires to make snow fall about a week too early or too late, in fact I suppose I really associate 'fog' with Christmas because as a child I remember going shopping for presents [with half a'crown that Mum had given me] and in my memory it was always foggy.

Even that has gone now and the only thing that is 'foggy' is my memory.

Whatever, my thoughts are on Christmas and today like any naughty child I had to open some presents.

Not exactly presents [although they might be for someone] but pieces of art that have arrived for our

festive exhibition.

I'm not sure how these should be described, are they candle holders or books?

"Candlebooks" is how I have labelled them.

Of course they do work as candle holders but both myself and their creator Chris Edwards

perceive them as sculptures.

These sculptures have been a long time in the waiting [and the creating] we discussed them many months ago, always with a Christmas showing in mind and I had thought that they would be in my hands sooner, but I have come to understand that Chis is a craftsman who will not release anything until he and I were both happy with the work.

It should come as no surprise to learn that he had worked as a designer/maker for stage, television and film as everything that he creates tells a story, or at least part of a story.

It was early in spring when we first talked about these pieces, I explained to him that I was looking for something magical, old and 'Dickension' for the window display.

" I know what you mean, "misty, Scrooge like".

We were both thinking the same way.

So many, many months later these 'Candlebooks' eventualy arrived.

They really are old copies of the works by Charles Dickens, although now they and the silver candle holder are one object, plus of course the individual silver "wax" droplets.

Absolute magic and exactly what I was after.

There is only one problem.

I couldn't help myself, today I had to put them on display to gauge the reaction.

Big mistake, I only have three left for Christmas.

Still, as they say "you can only sell them once".

Unfortunately, because now I will have gaps at the exhibition.

Luckily I have just had a late evening telephone conversation with another clever and creative person and I think that now I will have some new sculptures which will be equally as exciting and unusual.

Let's wait and see.

All of the above aside,

I will give one sneak preview by an artist I have yearned to show for a long time.

He created this famous picture [and many others] a long time ago but it is his more recent work that so excites me, and some of these I will show you in the near future.

Until then here is

"The Man Who Fell to Earth" painted by George Underwood.

Although this painting is now a piece of art history when I told George how much I had loved it he said

"I have a "cracking" print of that if you want to show it".

Yes please.

"Onwards and upwards".

It seems to be the daily mantra for me.

Having the opening of an exhibition always makes me feel that "now I can take a break",

but that never seems to happen as there is the ever present thought of "what's next"?

Having devoted all of my recent time to one event it now seems that I must forget about that and focus on the next, still at least I have the pleasure of looking at the results of a lot of planning and dreaming

while I am "planning and dreaming" of the next exhibition.

In fact not just the next one, but the one that follows and the one after that.

Which makes me pause for a moment, as I think a few of you may be hearing from me about that,

but, for the moment that is a future worry the one that concerns me and has all of my attention at the moment is our 'Christmas Exhibition'.

Much as there is a great part of me that adores Christmas in a very childlike way I have never before taken the exhibition side of it too seriously as I feel that so many galleries just use it as an umbrella 

under which to "stock up"for the future and that this cheapens the idea of it being an exhibition and is very unfair on the artists.

Maybe that is the right thing to do, who knows?

This year I decided that what I would would do is to treat the Christmas exhibition "very" seriously.

So I decided to contact and to visit artists whose work I really want to show but haven't got the appropriate group show for, or who I couldn't give a solo show to for some time.

This way I felt we could exhibit work I really like sooner rather than later,

plus, they would have to be special pieces as it is Christmas, usually that bring out the best in us all.

As a result I have been travelling again, travelling and collecting.

This time yet again my journey took me far north and meant stopping overnight at different locations.

one of these was of course 'The Green Dragon" in Yorkshire but I will not mention that as I think I have given them perhaps too much publicity in the past.

However if you travel north make sure to stop at..........................................................................!

I went to visit various artists, some we have exhibited before some we haven't, one in particular I have been pestering for some time and who I thought would never succumb to my persuasion.

At last he has, the potter Rob Watson.

He is a very "northern" man, if such a thing exists, he is very "down to earth" and has no interest in celebrity or exhibiting with galleries, he is far happier to just make what pleases him and sell it to the people who make their way to his door.

But at last I have managed to persuade him to show his beautiful pots with us at Christmas.

He is a man who works in many styles and who uses an extensive colour palette.

Those I have shown I chose because I love them, plus the colour is very fitting for the season.

 Another person who I am pleased to be showing is the lovely Jessica Irena.

I have long wanted to have on display one of her 'Mountain Goat" sculptures, at last I shall.

This Glass and bronze sculpture will be shown alongside some of her delicate glass bowls.

I should really be telling you more about the people and my visits with them, but as always this is being written last thing before I leave for the day, and now I have an extra reason to want to get home.

We have a new addition to the family, "Bramble", another Old English Sheepdog puppy.

I say "puppy"but she is growing by the minute and is wrecking the home.

Good thing I'm hiding here at the gallery.

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".

Without pictures the words mean nothing, so in the absence of images I have as usual posted nothing.

But, now I have some images so I have no excuse for not writing.

As usual I have photographs because we have an impending exhibition, when we will be showing sculptures by two totally different artists, working in different mediums but

whose work has strong links.

There names are Stephen Henderson and Sam MacDonald.

I am still awaiting the arrival of Stephen's art so for the moment I will just show sculptures created by Sam.

I have admired and coveted his work for a very long time and it is with a mixture of pleasure and disappointment that I have watched his career go from strength to strength.

The only reason that I felt disappointment was because the galleries that he was showing at were getting more and more prestigious and I could see that soon he would be someone far out of our reach,

perhaps working to commission only, which is what seems to happen.

But as usual it became a case of the 'bigger' the artist the 'nicer' and more approachable the person.

One thing for sure Sam is very nice and very grounded artist with no hint of an ego,

success and fame is not going to change him

I suppose this should be expected from a lad who comes from Orkney Islands, way up above Scotland

surrounded by the Atlantic.

A wild, remote and beautiful location, a strange beginning for a man now shown in some of

London's most prestigious galleries.

The Orkney's is of course where his love of the sea and its creatures comes from.

Even though he now lives on mainland Scotland his work still very much represents this environment,

but now his sculptures also depict a less dramatic but equally beautiful landscape.

Before the move his sculptures portrayed the Ocean and the culture of the men who worked there, now he is just as likely to be sculpting a pair of trout or Salmon as his work has changed and become more gentle along with his surroundings.

Myself I still love his sculptures that depict the sea, in particular those that show what seems like portions of sunken ships with fish swimming past the empty portholes.

They make me feel that although I will never experience such a thing I have actually witnessed it.

I had long put off contacting him as I could see his career really taking off and taking him

to many grand locations.

But like on many occasions I thought "you don't ask you don't get",

and like many times in the past I "did get" plus I got to know a very nice man as a bonus.

He called me the other day and during the conversation I was thinking

"I wonder what he has called about".

The answer was simple, he had just called to have a chat and to get to know me a little better.

How much nicer this is than it just being a relationship about selling his art.

He also gave me advice when I told him of a young artist whose work I loved and wanted to show,

but who I was unsure about contacting fearing a rebuff because of her rising reputation.

"John, you have got to ask her. You must always ask, sometimes people would like that,

so ask her you might be surprised".

Of course he was right.

After all Sam said "yes," and now I have the immense pleasure of exhibiting and selling his art.

Tomorrow I will show the equally beautiful, but different sculptures by Stephen Henderson.

I admit that like lots of people that I know I do have an ego.

I like to think that it isn't too big and I certainly don't treat anything that I do as being precious.

I just do things because I want to and because it gives me pleasure.

Well that is certainly true in the case of my small photography output, the pictures are taken for me

and my pleasure only. If others like them I am really happy but if they don't then I am not bothered.

I analyse, dissect and judge myself too often to be hurt by what others think, but of course I do love praise and the occasional stroke and pat on the head.

Which brings me to the pictures above.

Any photographs that I like enough are offered to a picture library that I have been associated with since we opened the gallery. 

It was at a time when I was starting to like what I was taking and they had just opened.

I found a small advertisement in a magazine asking for photographers for a new picture library.

In fact it was so new it was just a husband and wife working from home.

I was one of the first photographers that they signed and we have been friends ever since.

Their own fortunes have grown and grown, I would guess now that a large proportion of the book covers that we all see originate from them and their photographers.

I know that now I am their smallest contributor, I send them maybe two pictures a year.

But we are still friends because I was one of the first.

Occasionally they will inform me that someone wants to use a picture of mine for a book cover.

I very rarely, if ever get to know what the book was which is a shame as I would love to own a copy 

[even if it was in dutch or Japanese] just to boost my sense of self importance.

After all, it is very hard to deal every day with talented artists when you feel unable to create something of your own.

So.

For some reason a week ago I looked in my 'junk' email folder and there amongst all the advertisements for Viagra [how they know I need it troubles me] was a letter marked 'Your Photograph'.

It was a mail from an author who was about to have her first book published, a lady named

Linda Lafferty.

She explained how much she loved the old painting that was being used for her cover and had asked her agent who painted it.

When she was told that it was a modern photograph she asked him to track down the photographer.

Eventually she found me.

As a result she wrote one of the nicest letters I have ever received, she told me that she couldn't imagine a better cover for her novel.

She went on to praise me much more than I am worth and promised to tell people about me whenever she gave an interview or did a book reading.

To say that I was moved would be something of an understatement, so I wrote back to her and explained how the photograph of her cover came into being.

Less than thirty minutes later she replied and asked permission for my description of the picture to be used in the promotion of her book.

Blimey, fame at last.

What a lovely and kind person she must be, at a time that is so important to her she is including me.

I went home that evening hovering on a little cloud of my own.

The book called 'The Bloodletters Daughter' was published three days ago.

This evening she mailed me to ask "was I aware that it had gone to No.1 of the 'Kindle' bestsellers list

in both the fiction and historical fiction sellers in two days.

I understand that this is entirely due to her work, but even so it has given me a little 'glow' inside as I leave for the evening.

How could I ever have guessed on the day I pressed the shutter "for my pleasure" that the image that I could see might end up being seen around the world.

But then, it's a small world isn't it?

Above is the book cover, my original picture plus two others shot at the same time.

As many people know at times I can be a little bit of a cold hearted person,

and if not cold hearted then certainly cynical.

Like every other retail outlet we are besieged by people coming in collecting for various charities,

"good causes" or maybe just for the local boy scouts, as there seems to be this feeling that anyone with a shop must have lots of money. I suppose the thinking behind this is that if we have [collectively] all the things that people want to own then of course we must be rich.

"You've got what we want" = wealth.

Doesn't make sense to me but it does to anyone collecting.

Initially when we opened the gallery and "collectors" came in I thought it was the norm to hand over money or goods to help there cause, so even though it irked a little at times, I would try to help.

Eventually I realised that this was happening about 2-3 times a month and it started to annoy me.

Speaking to other shop owners I was made aware that I had obviously been put on the "soft touch" list.

I was advised that I should do what the others do and tell them to go away.

I now have no problem at all with telling any "good cause" collectors to "close the door on their way out". As a result I now rarely get bothered except for the occasional opportunist with no credentials and dressed as Superman coming in and telling me he is collecting for "????????", which amounts to himself. It works, it seems if you embarrass people enough they will give you money to go away.

So, having established that there is truth to the claims that I have no heart,

I will tell you of a recent episode.

It was past 10am one morning, I hadn't been open for more than a few minutes when

a well dressed man and woman walked in. 

"An early sale, could be a good sign for the day", were my selfish thoughts.

Then I noticed the folders they were holding as they approached the counter.

"I'm sorry, whatever you are collecting for I'm not interested. It's not personal but I won't give you anything", was my opening conversation.

[What ever happened to "good morning]?

"I totally understand how you feel but could we just tell you what we are trying to do"?

"No, I'm not interested. I have people like you coming in collecting for various things every week,

if I gave every time I would have nothing and have to start a collection for me and my family". 

"We understand this, and really do appreciate your position, but can we tell you what we are doing"?

"Thinks"[Wow these guys were really asking for it and I was going to give it to them].

"You must be having a laugh, what makes you think I have money or goods to give away?

You don't knock on the doors of ordinary home owners and beg from them so why pick on me?

Do I look rich? [I was wearing my usual jeans and T shirt]".

"I know that it must seem unfair to you Sir, but we are just trying to collect very special things".

"Thinks"[What they want some more? OK they can have it].

"I'm sick of people like you coming in all the time collecting for this, collecting for that, a new Scout

hut, a new playing field, new footballs for the local school, oh please support us we need your help.

I don't ever see you supporting my gallery".

"Thinks" [Boy was I telling them]

" Could we quickly explain what we are after, then we will leave"?

"Thinks" [Jesus, these people are really asking for more, and I'm going to give it to them].

"You want money? OK I will tell you where 3 local millionaires live just along this road, then you can go and bother them because I am telling you that you will get nothing from me, my heart is closed".

Thinks"[That should do it].

" We just need special things and we thought this was the best place to come to".

The conversation went on for sometime, back and forth. Too long for me to record.

Until.

My thoughts were, 'these people are really serious, they just keep turning the other cheek. I think they deserve to be listened to'.

"OK, tell me what it is you are after, but whatever it is you won't get it".

They then started to explain that they were collecting for research into male cancers, which for some reason receive very little funding but from which many men die.

Apparently it seems that male cancer research isn't too fashionable and most of the funding comes from charity work. It seems that the real funding goes elsewhere.

They talked for about 20 minutes and they captured my interest, mainly because they were so passionate [after all anyone who had put up with my deliberate rudeness must be passionate].

They explained that they understood that the public were bombarded by different charities and had become immune to them, so they had set out to try and raise as much money as they could in one day.

A day full of different events and culminating with an auction.

"We are trying to find things that money can't buy, then let people buy them. Different people suggested that we come here to your gallery".

I was flattered and yes without a doubt I had become moved.

Also, I am a male [Irene begs to differ], and a fortunate one. I am healthy.

I promised that I would try to find something for them.

About two weeks later I met the artist/author Jackie Morris at a large art event.

I have known Jackie for some time and what I had learnt in that time is that she has a large heart.

So knowing she had the immanent publication of a new book I approached her with a plan in mind.

I told her of my visit from the "beggars" and how they had broken me down and moved me with their 

obvious passion and good intentions and explained that I wanted to do something.

To be precise, I wanted 'her' to do something to help 'them' and which would give 'me' all the credit

Those weren't my real thoughts but that is what it amounted to.

I asked would she do a unique illustration in the frontispiece of her unpublished book so that it could be auctioned.

Without a pause she said "OK, but I might not get it done until tomorrow, so come and see me before you go home". [The event was on for days]

I did return to see her many times and on each occasion she was signing her different books for the many fans that had come to visit her, but I didn't see any sign of "my" book illustration happening.

At the end of the event she explained that things had just been too hectic and that she would have to post it on to me.

"Don't forget, it's important to me", I told her.

A few days later I received an email from her telling me that she was far too busy and wouldn't have time to fit something like that in.

I was stunned, this wasn't like Jackie. Sure I know it was asking a lot and maybe I had asked too much at a time when I knew she had a lot on her plate, but this wasn't the Jackie I knew.

What could I do now I had no plan B?

Two days later as I was sitting doing paperwork when the postman came in [he had called earlier],

"sorry I forgot this", he said handing me a small parcel.

"Hhhhmmmm, wonder what this is".

Of course it was the book from Jackie, complete with a unique illustration at the front and signed.

Something money couldn't buy. Something only one person would ever own.

I had forgotten just how well Jackie understands my volatile nature and how I have no time for artists that consider themselves more important than the rest of the population.

How she must have laughed, I bet she was hoping that I would call and have a "rant" about

self important artists [then she would have laughed more].

What can I say?

A lovely gesture from a lovely [and far too busy] woman.

I feel humbled by her generosity.

As a result on September 22nd a very special book, a true "one of a kind" by a special woman will be auctioned and with luck raise enough money to make a difference to the lives of many men.

All of the time that I had been travelling [enjoying myself] and collecting various different works it

had been very much in my thoughts that there was an exhibition to set up on my return.

However this was not going to cause as much stress and panic as the usual show,

the reason for this is that all of the exhibits had been delivered well in advance of the opening.

In the past on some occasions we have had work turn up the day before

[even on the day] the opening, to say that this increases the stress would be something of an understatement, as a result I will often be sitting here at 2.am the morning before

still typing out the price list, the excitement of this wore off some years ago.

This time it was very different.

The very last of the art arrived here with two weeks to spare, what is more amazing is that the

three artists involved all live in France, so the logistics,

the packing and shipping was even more involved than what is normal.

What a refreshing change it is to be involved with artists that understand that you need their help to

create a successful exhibition.

So returning from my trips I was excited at the thought of preparing the new show.

The invitations were all printed so it was an enjoyable period setting up the exhibition and even

having time to re-arrange things until we were completely happy.

I have decided that I prefer this to doing it the day after the opening.

The three artists involved are, Melanie Bourget, Louise Gardelle and Christine Amelie Petit.

Sculptor, potter and painter.

We have shown work by Louise ever since we opened 7 years ago and it seems strange to see that she now has a loyal following here in the Suffolk countryside. People come in occasionally talking as if she is a good friend and we have requests for news of fresh pieces every week.

Melanie is new to us although we have had a few pieces on show for a few months to create

interest in her sculpture.

Christine, approached me after plans for the exhibition were already in motion.

It seemed the obvious thing to invite her to be included in the event, luckily she agreed.

For a while in my mind the exhibition was titled 'Three French Hens', in fact all my paperwork

and computer files have that as a heading.

Fortunately before the invitations went to be printed Irene became involved so we opened a show

with the title 'Trois Femmes Francaises'.

The reaction has been really good, with many people returning to look and to purchase.

I think that it is an exhibition that given enough time would be a sell out as "word of mouth"

is bringing new visitors daily.

Paul, the local hairdresser has told me that it is the talk of his salon, I am not surprised when considering some of the various hairstyles shown in the different pieces.

I look forward to him telling me that someone came in asking for a "Melanie Bourget no. 3" style.

This has been a fun exhibition from the very start and it still has a little longer to run.

The artists are professional, their work is beautiful, but the best thing of all is:

my French has improved.

"Au revoir mes amis".

It was only as I thought to write this post that I understood just how far behind I am with many things,

emails, letters, telephone calls, picture taking, web site updating, calls, etc, etc.

It seems that the daily life of just running the gallery has taken me away from more things than I had

imagined, I suppose that is a good sign as it means we are busy, busy doing many things.

This is also the time of year when I tend to do a lot of travelling, as there are interesting fairs, events and exhibitions happening all over the country.

So in a short period of time I seem to squeeze in a years worth of driving.

In theory this should be good as it means that I return with lots of new art plus also I should have lots to write about, telling you of the many interesting people that I have met and the places I have seen.

Somehow though it all just becomes a blur as one journey merges with another, in fact I often have to concentrate to remember where I have been. Of course this isn't helped by the fact that one 'Travelodge'

seems exactly the same as the last.

Maybe I'm getting confused, perhaps I have only stayed at one, who knows?

So I thought before all of my memories where erased I would just make a small mention of one trip

while it stays in my memory.

I travelled North, and as usual if the opportunity arises I will make this coincide with a stay at what has become my "home from home",

 The Green Dragon Inn, at Hardraw in Yorkshire.

It is a place that I am made to feel so welcome that at times I  have often driven 5 hours home with the door key in my pocket, this is usually because Mark the owner insists on having a "cuppa" and a chat about artists before I set off,

The quick coffee ends up taking an hour and a half by which time I forget I'm a customer, shake his hand, saying " see you in a couple of weeks".

It seems natural to leave with my own door key.

However on this trip "there was no room at the Inn", except for my last night before I returned home,

so for this adventure like many before the car was my bedroom.

But it was a bedroom with a fantastic view, 'Ullswater' in the Lake District.

To say that the weather had been bad in England would be something of an understatement,

while the rest of the World struggled with heat and drought here we were almost sinking in rainwater.

So after a day spent at a ceramic fair my evening and night was spent by the lake.

Although I have done this many times before it has never been like this visit, the area was deserted.

No campers, indeed no holiday makers. It seemed I had the lake to myself for the evening and night.

What a night.

I think that every conceivable weather change happened within 12 hours, as a result although I was able to witness some incredible changes in light, colour, mist, hail and rain I didn't take one photograph

until the following morning.

That morning started with rain, then sun for a short time then back to rain, then sun, then rain.............

Above is one of the early good periods. 

Luckily after another long day at the ceramic fair I was able to set off for home and a real bed.

The Green Dragon, of course.

Some of the treasures that I collected at the fair I will have to show at a later date or I will never

get this finished, but I will mention that I "bumped" into a fellow blogger at the show.

An American potter named Dan Finnigan.

It was a genuine pleasure to meet the real person, plus an added pleasure to find him such a real 'gentle'man. I do hope we meet again one day.

So, Green Dragon and 'comfy' bed. I was on my way.

I had forgotten that they were holding their annual "Gathering", which is an incredible, not to be missed Folk music event. I mean "real" folk music.

The kind where local farmers turn up, with their guitars, banjo's, accordions, flute etc,etc,

 sit beside famous musicians in the various rooms and all lose themselves in music.

How could I have forgotten?

This was the reason that they could only fit me in for one night, hundreds of people had descended upon this remote hillside inn, plus me.

I had been reserved the best suite at the Inn, which is an indication of what nice people 

[Mark & Yvonne] are, but it was directly above one of the Bar rooms where the music was underway

as I arrived. The atmosphere is so good I was determined to enjoy some of it, but after half an hour and a pint of cider I decided that I was "just too tired".

I hated myself for giving way to tiredness and knew that I would regret it at a later date, but upstairs I went, showered and climbed into my enormous bed.

I forgot to mention that the rooms all have large open Fireplaces, there was one in my room and one 

alight in the room below, this meant that all sound travelled.

Still it wasn't a problem, after a night in the car I would sleep though anything, I did for a while.

I awoke,

It was two in the morning, the sound of a beautiful voice had crept into my mind.

Up the chimney came a woman's voice sing "Sounds of Silence".

For a few seconds I lay savouring it, thirty seconds later with trousers on [just] I was downstairs

witnessing this "magic".

That is the only way I can describe the event that I found.

A room lit by firelight, people of all ages playing instruments, violin, guitar, flute and voice.

The songs were all from an earlier generation, my generation.

The evening finished with a man singing a love song to his wife, they were sitting on a giant old Oak settle, barely illuminated by the fire.

He sang that he loved her and she sat twisting her hands looking at the floor like a young girl,

it was wonderful and I was so pleased to have witnessed this ending to the event.

The next morning when I came downstairs for breakfast it was as nothing had happened,

the inn was spotless and empty except for me.

As Yvonne said to me "it seems like it was a dream".

It was to me, but seeing that she was still wearing last night's cloths I imagine it had been a nightmare,

cleaning and preparing throughout the night.

So I left the "Dragon" with its crazy "No Hippy" sign

[you don't find many of them in North Yorkshire], and their waterfall,

heading North and East.

Once again travelling through four seasons in a day, I visited a glass maker and a sculptor and

I think the pictures show it wasn't a wasted journey.

But as they say that is for another day.

Plus loads has happened since.