A friend and I have started to put aside a day per month to go out drawing, en plein air, as the French would say. We had quite a lot of plein air yesterday, choosing a dry but flat sort of day to go down by the river, and the river around these parts is the Severn.

Turns out that the third member of the drawing club I’d met before some years ago, when she came to me to have some printing done. So she’d had the unfortunate experience of my smooth talking print rep persona. She recognised me but noticed that these days I look a little fuzzy from beard. Turns out also that we both attended the same art school in Manchester, and on the same course. She a few years later than I.

Arlingham was the target, down by the Old Passage Inn, a handy place on the banks of the river opposite Newnham on Severn. Easy to get to by car and not too far to walk with the ‘kit’, which is quite bulky for some. For myself, it’s a garden kneeling stool that serves as a small seat, an A3 sketchbook and a tin of pencils, plus a box of oil pastels. The other two have watercolours, and Hazel had a complete small folding easel contraption, impressively engineered with wing nuts everywhere. I’m not at home with a wingnut assembly. I usually end up just using the pencils. We spread out and got cracking. The river is not much more than a healthy trickle, making swooping patterns in the sand, or is it silt here? Treacherous at any time of day, the warming sign was the brightest thing to be seen on this trip.

‘Terms of engagement’ on these trips is to just get on with it, most talking done in the one car on the way. Couple of hours drawing, painting and looking. Quick, small thermos cup of coffee to keep us going a little longer, before heading for the nearest cafe/coffee place, for a debrief and sustenance. We checked out a small farm coffee shop in Arlingham itself, but probably wisely, it only opens at weekends and Fridays. There’s no such thing as passing traffic in this area, it being a huge cul-de-sac on the cusp of a massive bend in the river. So back to Frampton over the canal and down by what is said to be the largest village green in the country, to a small cafe that was bustling with life. Once sat at the table, we realised that we’d been out in the cold, perhaps fooled by the previous day’s summer-type weather. Friendly, helpful service and some fine hot food helped us to share our thoughts on art, life and the meaning of both. We reviewed the odd photo I’d taken, and later, back at base camp, Hazel’s place, we quickly reviewed what we’d put on paper. An energetic watercolour from Hazel, and a carefully crafted painting of Newnham from Elaine, a panoramic two-page pencil drawing from yours truly, plus the added benefit of some great chat, and a lot of looking.

We might go into the hills for the next one.