gnarled vines

The Viognier, the Pretending King and the Plonk from Paul all went down well with Malcolm who, before he lost consciousness, vowed to pay a visit to the maker first thing thismorning. Amazing to think that this nectar is brewing in the heart of these gnarled creatures. I am reminded of a wise old dancer in stillness, a lifetime of movement concentrated in her posture.
Plans afoot for stage two, meanwhile: Yesterday a visit to our landlady threw up some synchronicity, and when I suggested we try to find someone to rent the part of the house Julian does not use, she said she had been thinking exactly the same thing. Her nephews Thierry and Fabrice are coming round at midday to give us an idea how much stage two would cost, my Mum miraculously gave me 500 quid for my birthday and Julian is playing with various fortune-making schemes inspired by Duane: A gallery of small paintings called Shifting Light (I though of that name!), A Painter's Journal called Permanent-Red (where you will be able to check out his side of the story)and his own sleek new look stillives.com. Yesterday there were two small paintings hot off the easel so we are waiting for them to be snapped up.
Tomorrow we are off for a week together in Paris and then I am taking Julian to Madrid for his birthday present, to see the infamous Spanish Portrait exhibition.