Man Urinating On Grave

When I go grave-hunting I take a flask of coffee, sandwiches and chocolate. Sitting in the car eating while people-watching is quite pleasing. You see people tending graves, kissing headstones and often they're stood staring at a headstone as though the dead person is sat there. I walked up to a cemetery on a steep slant in Todmorden once and a woman was sobbing loudly over a new grave - sobbing so much I shrank back and returned to the car. Once I saw a portly dishevelled man slashing on a grave and he inspired this painting.

He was a tall, rangy, scarecrow, bear of man under a long army coat. Though intense-looking he seemed friendly. We were both putting something in a bin when we got chatting. Unshaven and breathing heavily he said he was a train enthusiast and had taken a hour's journey on an special vintage train combined with a visit his brother's grave. He said he'd have a drink of whisky over the grave before getting a train home. He said they'd shared a bed as children (with a railway sleeper between them for privacy) and his brother had died young of a hole-in-the-heart (septal defect - had to look it up.) "It should have been me," he said, "I've was the wrong 'un and he was the good 'un."

Once he left I strolled over to the headstone to read headstone which said his brother had died aged ten. Perhaps the poor lad used to wet the bed and soak his older brother who was now seeking revenge. Incidental meetings like these stay with me. I can remember faces, clothes, fabrics, mannerisms, aromas and voices yet if they told me their mobile phone number I'd have forgotten it a minute.

This painting would have been better had it been done on a bigger canvas - but I realised that after starting on it. I could not be bothered starting again - I thought it will only end up in the attic with scores of others (who wants a fattie urinating on a grave on their lounge wall?)

I haven't painted for months. I looked at the paintings in the attic which I'd done a decade ago and thought them much better. I seem to be getting worse. There's a innocent naivety in the old stuff I cannot capture now. Anyway, here it is. I was difficult to photograph and is better in the flesh - not that anyone will see it. I think I must have been watching a boxing documentary while doing this. I'd probably intended to watch a Youtube documentary about George Formby and typed in George Foreman instead.

This painting can be yours for £16,284.....or the price of a new rubber doll (now only £6,200 including waterproof 12v battery.) My last doll Ever-ready Evelyn was sunbathing in the local park when a gust of wind blew her into a hedge and she popped on a hedgehog.