Week 3 of 2014 was mainly spent on the m11 – travelling back and forth between Kent, Ely, Norfolk and Suffolk and then heading back down the motorway to Kent again.
However, an illustration of the inside of my car (as lovely as it is), or the view out of the windscreen of endless roads, lorries and road signs wouldn’t be the most exciting thing to draw let alone look at.
So, instead I present to you… a mallard duck.
Perhaps not an obvious choice, but this weekend I went to see my Gran and we went to a pub on the edge of her village for lunch.
The view from our little table by the window was so lovely. It was a clear, fresh and dry day, the sky was streaked with clouds, the river running past the pub was high but still and there was a small gathering of ducks doing their best to guilt slices of bread from passers by.
As we enjoyed our lunch the sun slowly set behind the fields on the other side of the river, spreading a peachy orange tint across the horizon. But even more than the beautiful setting, it was the soft quacking of the ducks as they waddled past and the urge to scoop up their round little bodies and stroke their soft looking feathers that reminded me I’m a country girl at heart (and I probably shouldn’t be left unsupervised with wildlife).