I get a break, walking along the towpath again, on
a moist, muddy, mellow autumn morning. A canoeist dips his paddle
with a splishy rhythm.
I've been using my favourite writing pen, a Parker
fountain pen with a rubber grip, to sign copies of Rough
Patch so now I need new cartridges (that sounds good, doesn't
it! I admit I've written letters, my diary and drawn with it too).
I always take a good look at pens, you never know what you might
find, and when I see they have the same model in stock in Portfolio,
Ossett, I get one to use for black ink, for drawing. It gives a
bolder line than my favourite drawing pen, the
Rotring Art Pen with an extra fine sketch nib, but it will
make a change for certain subjects. I drew the canoeist, above,
with the new pen and the girl in the woods, below.
we walk around the lake at Newmillerdam this
afternoon, a young old girl is singing, as she walks with her
mum and dad and little brother through the woods:
'There's a jungle in the tiger!
There's a jungle in the tiger! . . . '
'I think you mean “there's a tiger in the jungle?”'
suggests her mum.
But I think she'd got it right first time; everyone knows that
you can take the tiger out of the jungle, but you can't
take the jungle out of the tiger.