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A Gravy-Stained Time Machine It must have been a strange sight: a large, portly gentleman in a checked linen Borsalino, sitting on the passenger side of a beaten-up left-hand drive Rav4. Well past his prime, just like the car. Its blue-green paintwork was as faded as his hair and patchy, like his memory. His eyes…
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Wrestling with the truth How I agonised as I ummed and ahhed over how to say this, worrying whether I should pull my punches or just give it to you straight. So let’s just cut to the chase. This camera is a masterpiece. Come on, a Leica with autofocus! You’ve got to be impressed. Believe…
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A bright day, a dark task Bright sunshine conceals a dark day. Birds sing and angry drivers toot, oblivious to the mood. I can just about hear the babble of the infants in the playground like a faraway brook. Life is all around. Blue skies, warm sun, the world is on its head today. It…
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A beast of burden dreams of film As I trudge and traipse across London Bridge, grumbling like a mule and burdened like a packhorse, I recall a time before digital equipment weighed me down. And once again I find myself wishing: if only digital cameras could be more like their film forefathers. Cue nostalgia and…
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A Screech at the Radio Christ alone knows what the neighbours are thinking. For about the tenth time, I scream at the radio. The venom and the message are the same: “You don’t speak for me, you fucking moron.” It’s not nuanced, not balanced, but that’s what you get from Nigel Farage. Well, not him…