World
Only when there was to be a celebration were the brushes put away, the wine poured freely, the false nose and spectacle outfit donned, recitations uttered, jaws harp played, sometimes even the strains of Danny Boy wafted on smoky scrolls from his pipe as he gave voice in the soft deep strains of highland Scotland.
These occasions were the exception and always a delight. An opportunity for him to perform, to take the stage and for the whole family to participate and to make merry with him. Mostly though he seemed far away. His world was very private. So many memories which were never really shared. Occasionally a word or a name was mentioned of days gone by. Trusty fellows he had shared fearful moments with in his army days. Whatever, after those days politics and the plight of prisoners of conscience became very important to him.
As the years went by all his contemplations were blended together to ferment in the secret places as he continued to search after what he described as the synthesis. His paintings were always an invitation to look within.
Tom’s Jaws Harp
