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One at a time – a series of posts where I will examine a single image – today it’s tsunami. Vision fractured, life unbroken. A survivor of the 2004 tsunami in Sri Lanka sits in the small makeshift treatment centre, the same one that would later treat my chest infection caused by breathing the toxic…
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One at a time – a series of posts where I will examine a single image – today it’s Ted Fest. After narrowly avoiding getting killed when the gearbox on our helicopter sprang a leak, I finally made it to the real-life Craggy Island, Inishmore, an island on the West Coast of Ireland, for the…
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One at a time – a series of posts where I will examine a single image – today it’s Woman and Child. Sunday evening, on my way back home from a shift, the light was glorious. So much so that I was compelled to get the backup kit out of the bag. That’s the thing…
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Anticipation: A Bittersweet Sensation Anticipation, such a bittersweet sensation. The delicious excitement that gets the juice buds flowing. Will the moment live up to expectations, lingering on the lips forever, or leave a nasty taste in the mouth? Will you part, never to speak of this again? Who knows, suffice; it’s somewhat of an understatement…
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One at a time — a series of posts where I’ll examine a single image. Today, it’s plant crossing. Ok, man, a pot plant crossing the road. Bit of a street photography cliché. Perhaps. But did that stop me from waddling down the footpath like Quasimodo in search of Esmeralda, with my eye clamped to…
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The Eureka Moment I’m sat here dripping wet. It’s not raining. Nor has a pipe burst. No. I’m sat here because I’ve just had a moment of clarity — my Eureka-in-the-bath moment — and in such a hurry to share it, I rushed down to my faithful Mac to start typing before it vanished in…
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The Fear of Losing My Trade Dogs bark, children cry, men moan, and writers write. Or do they? Do politicians and bricklayers wake up in the middle of the night in the fear that they have forgotten their trade? I do. The fear that by the time the next dawn chorus breaks, I will have…
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Tourism is not the harmless middle-class pastime we’ve all been brainwashed into believing, thanks to a never-ending diet of slick, over-produced adverts that invade our personal space like an irritating passenger reading your newspaper. In fact, it is time to amend the dictionary: tourism noun /ˈtʊə.rɪ.zəm/Definition: The desecration, defilement and casual ruin of a destination…
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Trying to writea love song,something punchy,not too long. Chas ‘n’ Dave —my inspiration.Come on now,what, you hate ’em?There just ain’tno pleasin’ you. Top of the Popswas my aim —sadly,they’re out the game. But, by Jove,I will not cry —time to exploitold Spotify.
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“Son, I Hate My Job” I have an ever-abiding memory of my father, one that haunts me to this day. I remember, early one morning, bumping into him as I made my way to the bathroom. Through my bleary eyes, I could see such weary eyes, and with a look that I can still feel…