Painting with your feet in the sea

Its a hot day, and I mean its hot, its hot so that when you breathe in you feel the hotness at the back of your throat, the temperature gauge on the bus said that it was 40 degrees C outside (104F) and you have no reason to doubt its accuracy.

What better day to walk to the very corner of the most beautiful bay that you have ever parked your arse in, sit on the very waterline, dip your feet in the crystal clear Ionian Sea, and paint the view ?

The sea gently rippled on the pebbles in front of me, on a few occasions it slightly dampened the paper pad but in general it was well behaved and the really good thing about sitting almost in the water is that the group of Italians who had gathered around us can’t stand in front of you and block the view, apart from one hemispheric sized old woman who blocked not only the view but the light too plunging me into instant darkness, she said something to me and pointed at the painting, I just replied with a very loud “HELLO!” and she moved, I think she thought I was mentally handicapped.

It was a glorious half hour, or was it an hour, or was it half the day, Janice and I sat and painted, Tony sat and absorbed some more of the sun rays as if his magnificent mahogany specimen of a body need more sun, he will have no need of Vitamin D for the rest of his life now, indeed he has possibly overdosed on Vitamin D, but soon enough Suzanne hurried down from the seafront bar where the rest of our party had retired to to inform us that we had to move on, a monastery was waiting for our money and hell hath no fury like a monk missing his tourist opportunity.

The spell was broken, I gathered up my stuff and left with the memory, and a sketchbook entry, Paleokastritsa across the bay.

 

 

 

 

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