Wind has been a feature of today’s activities. Today it is blowing in from the east.

East wind and a high tide can make swimming a little like spending time in a washing machine, at our normal beach. So Today I, once again, chose the secluded steps access to the sea, where there is a little shelter from an easterly wind. This time without interrupting a mourning family. See below ⬇️

#633 theoldmortuary ponders.

Wind was on my mind because, after swimming, I had two consecutive sessions of painting with two different groups. And I needed to finish a painting that features abstract shapes that represent the wind and Smeatons Tower, our local landmark Lighthouse.

To say I have become obsessed with painting the wind since living on a peninsular would be an understatement. I have even thought about getting a home weather station.

Now to excuse myself for a late blog. A timely blog would have happened between the first dog walking image and the second swimming image, but I met three different people I knew on the dog walk and, quite frankly talked too much.

1, Sweet Peas and their placement in a south facing garden with a neighbour.

2, A local anniversary fete with someone I only know by sight.

3, A road accident with a friend I haven’t seen since March.

Blogging time blown out of the water. I had a very quick turnaround to meet my swimming companion. Then we were both off to the same art group where talking and creating is the point of the whole thing. Networking would be the word. Very good for artists who largely work in isolation. We planned our next group exhibition.

Then off to meet the next group, predominantly crafters, at a cafe. It turns out I was at the wrong cafe but I met a friend who I had not seen for a few weeks and we caught up on a project that we had both been working on for a Tennis Club. Half an hour later, no crafters at the cafe and I Whatsapped them to see if the gathering had been cancelled.

I was in the wrong place!

Finally I reached the place where talking was always the plan. For once I was fairly quiet, but I did finish the wind painting.

When I was a small person someone who talked too much was given the derogatory title of a ‘right’or ‘old’ windbag.

On reflection I have definitely been that person today. Caught somewhere between being old, juvenile or pompous.

Or worse!

My father used a much less palatable description of the over-talkative and called chatty people ‘verbally incontinent’. He was himself a skilled listener and rather a wise bean.

How do you use windbag in a sentence?

She was a bit of a windbag, but chatterbox would be a kinder term, she did paint a good wind while she nattered.