Maxine Relton's sketch book

We went to town in a bit of a rush to be see the Good Friday procession of the cross in Stroud. I promised Helena that the sun would shine this morning and my informed prediction seemed to be erroneous until we arrived at the venue at the top of the High Street, suitably named The Cross. Then the sun did appear, if only for a few minutes at a time between the scudding clouds, and it did brighten up the proceedings.

I was surprised that this event had passed me by in the past, but perhaps that is because I'm not a practising Christian. There were probably two hundred people assembled in the pedestrianised area of The Cross who all joined in the prayers and singing to the accompaniment of a guitar and saxophone. The man with the cross on his shoulders didn't seem to mind his burden. Press photographers milled about, much as I did, looking for the shot for next week's local paper or a blip in my case. That other blipper called Woodpeckers has posted her view of the occasion, with a particularly incongruous shot of a press photographer asking the cross bearer for his name for the record. I thought we all knew who 'he' was.

After the procession moved down the High Street, stopping for another song, they then walked past us and away to perambulate around town. Woodpeckers and I headed to the Subscription Rooms to see some Cuban prints, which are displayed as part of the Impress exhibition of printmaking which has been featuring around towns in Gloucestershire for the last month. The exhibits were interesting but not striking to my eyes, but I'm glad to have seen them. A local photographer and printer went to Cuba and made contact with the them and arranged this exhibition, which two of the Cuban artists managed to attend.

When we entered the exhibition we were greeted by Maxine Relton who was the attendant for the day, being a local print maker and artist herself. Woodpeckers explains more about her in her blip, and the conversations we had about her visit to Riga in Latvia to explore her partner's unknown family history. At one point she showed us her sketch book of that trip to illustrate her anecdotes of being in a strange land. I particularly loved this water colour of the Central Market in Riga, and in the end I felt it would be much more memorable and truer reflection of my day.

I have been mulling over what a blip means to me, and whether it is personally significant. I realised that it will be as varied as my days, sometimes for me and sometimes for others who pass by this place. I hope that here they will enjoy the colours and shapes of her sketch as much as I did, especially if seen in a larger view.