RATHER excitingly, David Hunt is striding across Romney Marsh into the teeth of Storm Debi as we talk. Accompanied by whistling wind, he describes the scene: “I am walking out across the marshes now and it is nearly pitch black – yet I can still see things even now. And then I can see to sketch, and I can sit and draw, which is my work. I can be in the countryside walking and drawing and getting ideas, and there is not much
