Bob Ross sets a rare pace

It is another hot day, so I walked the dogs early to avoid the coming heat. Now free to go out, I drove to Clare for a change in scenery hoping it would be quiet, but there were more people at 8:30 in the morning than I ever used to see on a week-day, all with similar thoughts to myself. There were many dog walkers, but also as many runners as I usually only see on an organised run. Even at that time, they seemed to be running in a lackadasical way as though they didn't really mean it, not being in a monitored race. Perhaps they felt out of training, following all these weeks of lockdown. One older woman, dressed the part in tight, black lycra shorts and with a pace tracker strapped to her arm, seemed to be attempting a record at the fastest hobble rather than the slowest run. Unhealthy though I am, I could have walked faster.

Knowing so little about painting, or its myriad kindred techniques, we have started to watch The Joy of Painting by Bob Ross. He was born the same year as me, but died 25 years ago, yet is attracting a new audience attracted by his laid-back style and quirky comments as much as by his instructional videos. Bob presented many series on painting from 1983 to 1994, and is being reshown now on BBC. Each programme follows the same format: thirty minutes in which he starts from a blank canvas and produces a brilliant landscape, painting wet on wet (I'm showing off here, using a technical term I've just learnt). The only problem is, he makes it look so easy it is deceptive. He is backed by years of experience, so when he quickly mixes several paints to produce a joyful, glowing, vibrant colour that shouts from the canvas, he knows exactly how much of each tint he can casually throw together, adding to his white base. I can do the white base, which is a start. But when I add colours, it more often ends up a muddy mess. When he dabs paint on in rapid jabs, you feel you can see each individual leaf and every dappled shade; all I seem to end up with is a smeared uniform mess. Taking up painting late in life, although I too may have a lifetime to perfect my technique, in my case a lifetime may not be quite long enough.

However, there are positives to this painting business. It's great to be learning something new; hopefully it will keep this old brain active. So far, my portraits have lacked any background to keep them simple. But painting's a great way to take the mind off any other troubles: when I am in our new studio, carefully preparing a new drawing and trying to get a background that looks half decent, I become so engrossed I seem to forget anything else. It's worth the humiliation of watching Bob Ross perform. Like the old jogger, I have have the right equipment but I'm hobbling slowly behind him.