We had been out and about and by chance spotted the painting stuck to the back of a notice board. You could walk behind it but mostly people didn't, so I'm guessing that not many people saw it. But we did - and after that we would look at it every time we went past, to check it was still there. Eventually we decided that if it's still there next time we walked by then we would bring it home especially as there was rain forecast for Friday.
As we approached it an old man ambles along
and then stops to read the notices on the other side. As he leaves we
start to cross the road, two women unpacking a car beside us when
suddenly a burly Lycra clad cyclist swerves past the two women narrowly
missing us as he charges on through the road barriers. I suggest that
there didn't need to be such a rush and that he might take it easy, but
he doesn't care to hear this and curses colourfully. We ignore him and
head for the noticeboard – the painting is still there, gently we
ease it free and saunter off with it, underarm.
It has since found a new home next to the window, and
seems comfortable both in the daytime, brightening up a dark corner
and at night sitting cheerfully on the red wall.