Bar, Rouen, by Andrew Reid Wildman

I arrived here, as I always do, for it is an annual event, on a ship, a dated floating hotel, a modern day long-boat. I come to this reconstructed town each year on a cruise up the Seine, from Paris to Normandy and back, a time to spend with my mother. The visits are fleeting, and invariably I venture into the town alone nowadays, keen for exercise and a taste of France. This year we arrived on a Monday and much was closed so I walked in a straight line out of town until the relentless post-War architecture gave way to the wrought iron and red brick of French suburbia. The air smelled of mulch and was fresh and crisp. I turned uphill, sweating under my coat, my camera heavy. And it was here, between the rows of workers houses, that I came upon this bar. It was so achingly French I knew I would have to paint it. This work is available at You can make an offer online. It is also available as posters from just over £10 at


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