ants chilling at a picnic
Sometimes these drawings just fall out like dreams at the end of the day. When I wake in the morning and go to get the drawing to scan it, I have no memory of what I drew the night before, or how it came to be.

echoes of memories of songs of the lake

Home late after an evening pub sing of chanteys and work songs. I have the feeling I’ve just reproduced some logo I’ve seen somewhere, oh well, that’s what fell on to the paper.