When autumn comes, you have to grab it by the windy, rainy horns. Yes, it's tempting to sit inside with a cup of tea and watch whatever grot the TV throws at you, or read an Ian Rankin book for the umpteenth time. But if you do that, then that is going to be your fate for the whole winter. You need to be out there in the weather wearing the Weather Clothes, striding through the puddles and allowing the rain to completely soak your trousers, probably.
What was tempting was the exhibition in the quirky little The Gallery of Everything of work by Sam Doyle. It's not just the 'story' behind the paintings (he grew up on St Helena Island, South Carolina and painted on scrap metal that he found about the place). It's that they are absolutely gorgeous- the colours, the sheer stylishness of his work. In a funny sort of way they remind me of mediaeval illuminated manuscripts: there is a formality about them even though they have rough surfaces and some occasional splodginess. I don't care a fig for the hype around the Bayeaux Tapestry (saw it when I was a nipper in France, then went to see the perfectly serviceable censored version in Reading Museum with the Offsprogs a couple of years ago). I care a fig for these lovely paintings. I wish I was rich because I would buy one if I was.
Yes, I got absolutely soaked, but it was worth it.
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