Palm Trees.
Palm Trees. Oil on canvas by Celia Turner. Crumbs, it is SO cold today. I am sitting here wrapped up in a vest, jumper, scarf and shawl and I'm still freezing. I spent the morning getting the garden 'ready for bed' meaning tidying it up and cutting the grass before the weather gets too bad, I've brought the geraniums into the 'conservatory', loose term as it's more like a bombed out bus shelter clinging precariously to the side of the house, that's rented accommodation for you. I can now look forward to a few months of involuntary slimming as there's no point paying for heating as any warmth simply seeps outside through the 'original' windows, which also took a battering during WW2. This is the life of the impoverished artist. Still, all is not lost as I am going to rearrange my studio so I am surrounded by seascapes, lovely blues skies and glistening water, golden sands and lapping waves can lull me into a sense of warm escapism as I wip