We had to be up at 7am, at Porthclais by 7.30. I woke in the night to hear rain thundering on the roof. Heart sank. Then the alarm went and by the time I was in the car and heading off I realised that although all around clouds billowed the sun was shining on a golden morning. I begin to fear that Tom Sutton is some kind of a weather wizard.
By the time I had walked up and off to the end of the cliffs above the harbour the boat was way away, a tiny line near the distant rocks.
The sun painted the rocks gold. Still not happy about the rough I have for the art on the last page and also there are too many words and time is running out for making changes. Sometimes just getting away from it can make things click in to place.
Around me ravens flew and suddenly something just came into gold light in my head. So now I have to try and see if it also fits on paper.
Back home the wind is from the east southeast. Time to paint.