Lola and Lolita were sitting in the trap whilst the horses rested

Rain was forecast but the clouds although gathering were high in the sky

Let us make peace or our journey will be dreadful

I cannot see the heather

It is the paint and pigments that hide the heather but there are areas to be seen

All I can see are the vast plains that inhibit our passage

Let us go as the horses are now fresh

Will you paint the evening sky so that I may present your work to the two drunks who watch us from their windows?

Why would they want a painting?

I am interested in the abstraction of their sad lives

They will think you a common whore

An artist’s whore

When this journey is at an end meet me on the towpath near to the houses which were demolished as they were no longer beautiful

Bring your completed work

I will only use one colour as our peace has not been brokered

Look sister there is a young boy spinning thatchbands perhaps he will broker our peace

I will speak to him as long as he is called Cedric Chivers was the son of seaweed gatherer and was very fond of crabs and other sea creatures that he found in the shallows