memories

Childhood holidays

With hindsight, one of the things which drew me to the home where we now live is how many little details of it are similar to where I spent childhood holidays. Not the mountains, but the sweep of a shore line, the little houses dotted across the hillside, the wild grasses waving in the breeze, the winding lanes, the odd wooden telegraph pole carrying electricity to a house half-hidden.

Memories of Thirlmere

An old haunt, which I first visited in very similar conditions in the mid 1990s. This weather and this landscape were where I first began trying to take “proper” landscape photos using a Mamiya C330 on loan from a friend and mentor. I used to drive around the English Lake District fairly aimlessly, looking for… (Read More)

Photographic memories

I wrote only recently about how photography is an aide-memoire for me and the point was proven this afternoon, when I was instantly reminded by the photograph on a shopping bag of trips to Sicily. “Hang on!” I said, and both Jo and I instantly recognized the street lamp and tiled square in Taormina, from… (Read More)

There’s more to life than photography

There are times, now and again, when I wonder what the point is in taking photographs. I mean, there’s all the expense of buying equipment and maintaining it, there are all the hours spent editing and refining the images until they’re just right. Then, what to do with them? Post them on Flickr. Make a… (Read More)

Whitewash and Brick

This was the view from my hotel room in Victoria. As a Londoner (I was born in St. Thomas’ Hospital and brought up during the first six years of my life in south London), this view isn’t just a pile of bricks, but a reminder of a childhood home in the 70s, where whitewashed brick… (Read More)