My wife calls me a townie, OK I might not have been born with straw behind my ears but sheep don't run off when they see me, in fact quite the reverse. They seem to think that I am a farmer (now that is hard to imagine) and in winter they hang around expecting me to feed them. So I've got them just where I want them, while they're standing around waiting for the food that doesn't come out comes my sketchpad and a painting is born or rather conceived. It's pretty painless for the sheep although they are as hungry at the end of the creative process as they were at the beginning. But they have been immortalised in pastel.
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