Watch out for Artists
I was cycling up to the Blencathra Centre the other week. Just before a cattle grid, I had a run in with some sticky sheep droppings which adhered to my tires for a couple of hundred yards before flying off in directions beyond my control.
The artists, painting Lonscale Fell over the valley to the left, who had just got the perfect blend of ultramarine and cadmium yellow, weren’t happy with the addition of a flying blob of burnt umber.
They rip their ears off, as is the artistic custom, and threw them at me.
I pedalled on apologetically.