Larking

 

I've always loved the photo of Eamonn beachcombing and am keen to get started on an acrylics painting of it. As I worked with the digital images, I reflected on the hundreds of hours we spent on Southwold (and other) beach(es), slowly wandering in companionable silence, both searching for something interesting. For me, hagstones and small pieces of Amber were the prizes sought. Eamonn had other priorities

It was a coincidence that I happened upon this book, A Field Guide to Larking. Larking. Is that what we'd been doing? I know we both found the pastime enjoyable, but don't think either of us would class it as Larking. 

Having a Lark smacks too much of pranks or fun, that thing that Terry Pratchett described as "Fun. What is it good for?  It’s not pleasure, joy, delight, enjoyment or glee. It’s a hollow, cruel, vicious little bastard, a word for something sought with an hilarious couple of wobbly antennae on your head and the words‘I want It!’ on your shirt, and it tends to leave you waking up with your face stuck to the street".

Anyway, I was intrigued by the title of the book and impressed by the reviews. I'm looking forward to reading the book as I work on the painting.