3rd November. Autumn like summer with roses in the garden and blue sky and sunshine. Found peace of mind and space to paint and despite having too much to do for publishers decided to paint a large painting that is to do with nothing but the pleasure of pushing coloured water around on a piece of paper to make a painting appear. Walking in bright sunshine with cats and dogs to check the beach for seal pups. Robin did a fine impersonation of St Francis, or maybe Dr Dolittle! At least one pup still on the beach and the cats glow in the sunshine. For more pictures of the afternoon check out the catblog.

Too much to do to be working on something for myself. I have to paint for Starlight Starbright, do roughs and artwork for the last three Robin Hobb books, re-work East of the Sun, West of the Moon, and do roughs and artwork for Tell Me a Dragon and a piece for Frances Lincoln for a book on human rights, and go to Paris to sign books and get invitations out to exhibition and collect paintings and hang them. But I did hear on Friday that the poetry book is on the longlist for the Greenaway award, and is being reprinted in hardback for the third time.

In the week I listened to a radio program about Ted Hughes, made up from his letters. Beautiful and heartbreaking and poignant. And I bought the book (The Letters of Ted Hughes, selected and edited by Christopher Reid, published by Faber and Faber). Dipping in and out of it I found a letter from Ted to his sister that talks of some "animal fables" that he wrote. 1956. Sixty years ago he wrote the stories for How The Whale Became and the BBC rejected them and it seems strange to think of someone with the beautiful writing style of Ted Hughes being rejected. The program reminded me of the letter that I had from him when I wrote saying that I would love to do an illustrated version of these magical stories (published in a small and poor paperback by Faber in the 1960's).

Now I am struggling to get the book back in print. It was something that his son Nicholas said, quoted by his father in a family letter, a riddle about sunshine, that made me want to buy the book. It slipped into my ear and through my mind and the words became lost in the muddle of everyday chaos.

Another comment in a letter to Sylvia Plath also rang so many bells.

" What have I done today? A mouse could not find it if a second of honest labour were a pound of toasted cheese."

How true of many days that slip away like so much lost time as the year rolls on towards its end. And how sad in a way that we all seem to write emails now and letters are not written and kept.

6th November. Slow progress, no progress as three migraines in a week make work and life difficult. Time snatched in studio where sunlight falls on mandolin and owl. Too tired even first thing in the morning I sat on the Ram's Nose while the tide made a huge expanse of beach at Whitesands and a young seal swam in the water made black and white by cloud and sunshine. He turned and tumbles in the waves and wrapped himself in the water and weed, racing waves, hiding and emerging again to roll and revel in being a seal. Bliss.

In the post a new book arrived. Well, a new old book. Same book, different cover.

 

7th November. Walking to Porth Melgan the footpath over the sea is speckled with the seed pods of heather. If the birds eat these is that what makes their voices so sweet?   8th November. Painting, signing books, peaceful and head full of dragons. Wasn't happy with the blue dragon for the Robin Hobb books and they have asked me to do it again, which gives me a chance to get it right. The painting for the other one was fine, but she was too heavy, and just " not right" so, back to the drawing board, which at the moment is a place I like to be. But other work piles up around my ears and I have too much to do. A few days ago I had a letter from The Academi inviting me to join as a full member. Felt very flattered as up to now I have been a painter first and a writer by default. Sort of. The Academi do wonderful work promoting literature in Wales and literature from Wales around the world and it is a great honour to be recognized by them. 9th November. Spent the day wrestling a dragon, trying to give her strength but keep her feminine and finer, lighter somehow. Driving across the Dowrog where the low sun shone beautiful on the gold grass a harrier haunted the landscape, swooping and random in flight, hunting, hanging in the gold air and beautiful.

11th November. Tom's birthday yesterday. Fire in the garden and house full of people and lovely cakes from Claire. Lovely picture of Tom, drawn in firelight. Today went to see Jane about prints and will soon have new prints on sale on the prints page.

Called in at the glass gallery in Rhodiad. Amazing work in glowing colours.

13th November. Yesterday woke early, too early and finished reading the wonderful Stolen Child by Keith Donohue. A day spent driving to Milford and delivering books and picking up paintings.

Came home to find that the Disc World Calendar had been delivered and looks wonderful. Today gilding a dragon, walking cats and trying to edit a text and stay awake. Outside the colour of a pearl with an edge of cold. Inside warm but inhabited by trolls. Cats curled tight on cushions. Quiet and still.

14th November. After a big storm yesterday when the wind blew hard from the north today there were all kings of hungry hawks hunting the skies. They cut across the sky as if the fierce wind were still behind them. Walked around the Head with the dogs and came home to try and write and rewrite and edit manuscript and found a day of hard work and concentration punctuated by cooking, and a phonecall from my electricity provider requesting to know who it is that services my boiler. Needless to say they got little sense from me, decided they were dealing with an imbecile and moved on to harass the next self employed person who made the mistake of picking up the phone incase it was something important. Did they not realise I had dragons to gild!

Even managed to chase away a troll or two. Back to painting again tomorrow.

15th November. Some days are like this. Bright, autumn light. Beautiful. Working away at a new Liveship. In the post a letter from a publisher wanting to see more of East of the Sun throws me into a restless spin of printing and posting and wishing and wondering. Then settle to work again in the warm house with a glowing fire and at the end of the day I watch The Snow Queen, An Intro Film, with Juliet Stevenson. Magic. Outside there is a sharp moon in a dark sky and a star lantern hangs in the stillness in the garden.

16th November. Autumn. Rust. Lapwing and curlew call across the valley and the hill once more has highland cattle grazing. Slow day at work waiting for paint to dry. Frances Lincoln emailed to tell me that The Snow Leopard had received a recommendation from Parent's Choice, which is lovely as the sticker will tone well with the colours on the cover. Lovely review from them, so my thanks to Zarina Mullan Plath for this. A quiet day painting while outside the birds flock to the feeders. Mostly bluetit and greattit and greenfinch and chaffinch, with the odd magpie.

 

19th November. Today I saw a hobby sitting on a telephone wire, a peregrine on a cliff, a harrier, slate backed, flapping a slow flight over golden moorland and a ragged buzzard high on a pole.

21st November. I have sand shining on my boots. The sky is bruised with cloud and patterns have been drawn on the beach by the sea, by dogs running in circles, by birds' feet. My head is full of dragons, and my heart is full of hares, thanks to Annie Dalton, who today sent me a link to a poem that settled my soul.

The Barefoot Book of Classic Poems is on the long-list for the Greenaway award, along with many really beautiful books, my favorite that I know of being the Emily Gravett's book about the frightened mouse, Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears, which is beautifully drawn and innovative and playful.

 

23rd November. The light is glorious today. After a day spent taking the car to the garage to get it fixed and picking up paintings from the framer for the exhibition in December and trying to make some space in the house for another 16 paintings and dealing with mess and chaos, today I am hoping for peace of mind to paint dragons. I would cross my fingers, but that would make painting a little difficult.

25th November. Walked with Tom and Hannah up from Abereiddi to the steps beach where the tide was out and the dogs ran drawing circles in the sand. Tom and Hannah rolled down a steep hill, hair flying. Yesterday we met Emma, who had come to St Davids and found paintings of bears. She had supper and we walked on the beach in the milky moonlight.

 

Late November and the weather is warm like spring. A quick walk with the dogs on the beach became a long walk around St Davids Head when I looked up and saw the moon bright and full in the morning sky. Moon-dappled ponies cropped the grass close on the cliff tops and sunshine and moonlight played over the ancient hut circles and whispered stories in my mind. Out on the water flecks of white spindrift were small birds fishing, rising and wheeling and dipping in waves. The sun shields us from the universe in the daytime and too few people can see the stars these days.

Hung up the washing to dance in the breeze. Time to shut myself away and paint.

27th November. There is a stillness to the landscape. Almost no wind. Sea a deep slate gray with the horizon drawn in a clear dark line. Miles across the sea the hills and mountains of Ireland rise against a pale sky. Few birds fly. The sea is flat calm and the world seems to be waiting.

28th November. Wind snags and teases lemon yellow clouds. Over St Davids Head a rainbow rests. On the journey to Robin's the trees are ablaze with autumn, gold pennies on the silver birch, fire orange of beech and oak. The sky is laced by the patterns of winter trees, and birds are everywhere.

29th November. Train to Paris where the winter streets shine with rain. A wonderful welcome from Brigitte and her family and then to the strange hotel where there was not enough room to swing a cat, should you have one handy.

30th November. A problem when we woke. We were to make our way to the book fair by taxi, but it seems there is a taxi crisis in Paris. With workshops starting early I began to panic but Robin stepped like a knight in shining armour into the road and flagged down a taxi and we were off on a mad ride through the Parisian traffic and I felt like we had the best taxi driver in all France.

The Book Fair was amazing. At times when we are told that literacy levels are falling in the UK, here in one of the poorest suburbs of Paris was a book fair full of the richest treasure boxes of books, and full to the brim with children, all so excited. The workshops went well, mostly because the teachers had worked with the books with the children before hand and they were so sure of the story, but it was hard work and I need to learn French if I am to do more. Brigitte translated for me. The children drew, leopards and dragons and I felt very moved by what they had taken from the book. It seems that in France all 10 000 copies are out in the shops. I met wonderful people and ate amazing food and drank some wine that was like a poem. More of that later as home now there is so much to do to get the exhibition ready and there are too few hours in the day.

For more of Paris click here.

 

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