Yesterday, for the first time in ages my husband Tony took our dogs for a walk without me. This wasn’t an act of rejection! All morning it had been pouring with rain, in fact, throwing down sheets of water and we had left the walk too late for me to join. In the afternoon I was indulging myself in my second meeting of the Burley Art Club – whoop whoop – I am back painting again after about five years without touching a brush. I have so missed the smell of the oils and the excitement and fear of a blank canvas. However, at the club I feel like a complete novice and it’s very scary there because many of the members are professional artists. The current focus is cloud painting in acrylic which is a medium that I haven’t mastered so I feel like, not only the new kid on the block, but also the rawest beginner. By the way, before I leave the subject of clouds and get back to the ill-fated dog walk – the classes have been quite a revelation and opened my eyes – I just can’t stop looking up to see the different formations of clouds and also the colours. Over the last couple of weeks we have had the most amazing skies filled with huge cumulous sets – voluminous white and grey towering masses of clouds against the deepest of blue skies. I remembered this was one of the great values of painting – it makes you look at everything through fresh eyes. Anyway, I digress and will leave my painting exploits for now.
While I daubed Tony took the dogs from one of our favourite and familiar forest car parks. When he returned he discovered the side window broken and the car filled with glass. He thought he had shut the door too vigorously until this morning when I realised that the back pack that I keep by my feet in the front of the car had gone missing. It’s a strange feeling when you are robbed. It really does make you feel that you have been violated in some way. Of course, this was a really mild case of robbery and although we have informed the police just for their awareness we certainly don’t expect a resolution. But it still left me a little shaken. It has also made me curious. Who could possibly find my dirty old, dog walking back pack – not a designer model but a canvas affair bought on a holiday in Rome some ten years ago. It even has a naff picture of the coliseum embroidered on its side. I sat and thought what was inside. An old anorak style jacket, a few old packets of gum, a box of plasters for blistered feet and some used tissues. Poor chap who took a chance of prison for such a measly gain!
Over the years, like everyone, I have lost possessions, some valuable and some worthless like my current loss. Each time I feel a frission of anger at the thought of someone deliberately taking my things for their gain without any effort other than the violence of a broken lock or window. This one should have been easy to let go as there is no sentimental value or intrinsic value to the bag and its contents. But I cannot let go. I already miss my little friend who comes on me on all my walks, sitting on my back with essentials like water and extra layers just in case the weather changes – which it does frequently here.
I also have an addictive curiosity about who it was that stole the bag and where he dumped it. Was it a loner, an addict looking for money for drugs? Was it a kid looking for some money for beer? He was certainly a chancer as the car park is well used. He most surely would not want to keep the bag once he’d turned it out and found no phone, money or credit card. This morning I spent half an hour searching through the bushes beside the car park and then dragged my husband and dogs through the bracken then deep through the woods looking for the bag! “Let it go” Tony said. Wow, those are usually my words! But I can’t. I am too curious – I am definitely going to have another look tomorrow!
Big hugs. Anne xxx