We are standing in our rural idyll, so kindly created by Mrs Laura Knight. Our true identities are concealed. (Really we are two selfish young things, well on the road to success. We fight, we argue about money and social etiquette. Always wondering what happened to romantic bliss.) Here on this canvas we are safe, clothed for a romantic adventure in country style finery. The day is ours!
We reach out to one another and kiss. Sweet words of endearment flow from our lips. Our arms entwine. This is not the time for lust and longings, our normal frenzied lovemaking, when the arguments subside and the children are in bed. This is the time for fantasy. The artist has given us a whole canvas to play with, filled with exciting country scenery. Let us walk out of this field and explore beyond. We clamber over the rough stone wall and through the flock of sheep with lambs gambolling at our feet. We smell the freshness of the air and remark on how happy the young lambs make us feel. Far superior to the pleasure we gain from eating one for dinner!
“But alas my shoes are too fine for this expedition, I will remove them and feel the canvas beneath my feet.” (The woman)
“My fishing jacket is too thick for such a warm spring day, I will remove it and place it over that murky mess I believe to be a puddle. Then my wife’s delicate feet will not be soiled” (The man)
Oh what a delight it is to explore, away from the carriages and servants, amidst this colourful tapestry of life.
Around the next corner is a wood. We are reluctant to enter for fear of wolves or other wild creatures! Mrs Laura Knight is a woman of great imagination, who knows what she has in store for us. We choose to walk up the grassy slope instead.
“I pick meadow flowers for my love and present them to her.” (The man)
“I place the pretty blooms that my love has given me in my flowing dark hair. I am feeling the seductiveness of innocence before the gross deeds are done. Lay here next to me my love and kiss my cheek.” (The woman)
“I take my wife in my arms and place her gently on the soft grass. First removing a few twigs and stones that Laura has painted there.” (The man)
Suddenly there is a roar, a pounding of hooves. A mighty form is rushing towards us, tearing up the soft green turf as he goes.
“Oh my goodness what now, this is not the moment for sweet lovemaking! I boldly take my coat and place it between the bull and my sweet wife. But I turn and she is gone, fleet foot as the deer in spring, she has spied a tree and clambered, half naked onto a bough.” (The man)
The bull rages on.
“Oh why did I pay the artist to make a fool of me? But then I realise that she has been kind and left a gaping chasm in the field’s surface, a thick splash of dark paint indicating a hole. The bull stumbles and falls. I too turn and flee to join my wife in the safety of the great oak tree.” (The man)