Although even when I am being idle I have plenty of food for thought both early and late - thoughts both about and not about art.

I have the gift of neither the spoken nor the written word, especially if I have to say something about myself or my work. Whoever wants to know something about me -as an artist, the only notable thing- ought to look carefully at my pictures and try and see in them what I am and what I want to do.

After tea it's back to painting - a large poplar at dusk with a gathering storm. From time to time instead of this evening painting session I go bowling in one of the neighbouring villages, but not very often.

There is nothing that special to see when looking at me.

If the weather is good I go into the nearby wood - there I am painting a small beech forest (in the sun) with a few conifers mixed in. This takes until 8 'o clock.

There is no self-portrait of me.

Even when I have to write a simple letter I'm scared stiff as if faced with looming seasickness.