Fleeting Moments
The blog is updated when something comes to mind, memories, thoughts, or moments that I feel need to be written down. Other times, the writing is just a simple record, tracing brief, unplanned moments that might otherwise dissolve into nothing. These are the things that can be easily overlooked, the small moments that, without record, could quietly vanish from the world. Most of the accompanying photos are mine, others are stock and attributed to authors accordingly.
7 January, 2024
On silent hooves
We walk into the woods. The dog is focused, sniffing the ground, erratically moving left and right, pulling at her lead.
18 July, 2023
The Warehouse: an anxiety nightmare?
I am inside a vast, cavernous, brightly lit warehouse, I am standing on-top of a large wooden box.
20 October, 2020
Another Covid Nightmare
I am inside an Italian hotel bar, I am alone. The room is long and narrow, it has a minimal brutalist style with smooth grey concrete walls.
14 March, 2018
Psithurism: the sound of wind in the trees
Thousands of fragile tree leaves can be seen silently moving in the breeze, their tubular connecting stems enable each leaf to gently sway in random multiple directions.
27 November, 2016
Autumn leaves and killer clowns
We are walking along the quiet lane that runs through the woods; the afternoon is gloomy, overcast, it feels much darker than it should for this time of day.
19 February, 2016
It's going to be a lovely day
The sun has only been up for a short while but its warmth has already started to melt away the brittle layer of ice that covers each blade of grass
3 May, 2015
Pushchairs, trolleys and a London bus
The London bus is crowded, its passengers are the normal blend of working class, multicultural Eastenders. Most of the passengers on the lower deck are ...
18 February, 2015
A Motorway Blowout
We are halfway through one of our regular drives from London to Wiltshire, we have just passed by the grey built-up suburbs of Reading, and now, in contrast, we are being treated to vast fields of flourishing yellow rapeseed.
28 June, 2014
Hawkwind, Stonehenge Festival, 1984
It’s 3AM; a dishevelled group of punks, hippies, bikers and Hells Angels are gathered in a Wiltshire field. We stand before an empty pyramid-shaped stage and wait for the main musical event.
14 June, 2014
Westward Ho! and the tug of the line
The Devonshire seaside village of Westward Ho! is not only famous for being named after an imperialistic historical novel, it’s also known for its extensive sandy beaches ...
8 June, 2014
Sleep paralysis or the demon on my bed
The summer of 1980 was an exciting time for me; I had turned sixteen, left school and had moved away from home, I was working and living on a Smallholding in Wales.
11 September, 2011
Jobsworth
I leave the supermarket with two loaded bags of groceries; I’ve just spent 15 minutes in a checkout queue and am glad to leave the noisy, chaotic, brightly lit environment.
21 November, 2010
A cautionary tale of sunburn, insects and antihistamines
Despite the punishing mid-day sun we decide to walk up into the hills of Isola Maggiore. We take the dusty track that leads up into the hills, the track circles the tiny island, it is a steep and rugged climb.
11 October, 2010
A Tiding of Magpies
In the mornings, I travel to work via the Marshes. If I’m very early, I often spot wide-eyed rabbits and occasionally disturb a tiding of magpies.
7 October, 2010
Amsterdam: a tale of high winds and fear of flying
The storm has been raging for two days; the autumn leaves that had been lying on the ground like damp confetti are now in flight. They blow around, violent swirling micro-tornadoes.
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