Thursday, 31 July 2014
Tuesday, 29 July 2014
Gentleman's Magazine 1886
Filey
On a mild summer's evening, while I have been towed along the smooth waters of the bay, and while I looked on the rocks and the coast, and the sea all tinged with the rich setting sun..
I forgot for a time to envy the lot of the traveler who gazes on the superior glories of the Frith of Edinburgh, the Bay of Naples or the Port of Constantinople.
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
Monday, 2 June 2014
Monday, 26 May 2014
Monday, 19 May 2014
Sunday, 18 May 2014
Goodbye to Berlin
“But seriously, I believe I'm a sort of Ideal Woman, if you know what I mean. I'm the sort of woman who can take men away from their wives, but I could never keep anybody for long. And that's because I'm the type which every man imagines he wants, until he gets me; and then he finds he doesn't really, after all.”
Monday, 24 March 2014
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Saturday, 1 June 2013
Drinking Partners 1942
Monday, 27 May 2013
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
Monday, 18 March 2013
Happy New Year
A trail of whispering clouds pass across the low horizon, with occasional speckles of golden sunlight permeating through their thin veneer - a welcome relief after many days of incessant winter rain. As the late afternoon sky turns to dusk, a biting wind attempts on stealing the attention of a couple sitting on a park bench, in an affectionate and warming embrace. To this sharp decline in temperature, they remain oblivious.
Thursday, 22 September 2011
the high level branch
In the year 1851, when all that glittering roof was built, in order to exhibit the petty arts of our fashionable luxury carved bedsteads of Vienna, glued toys of Switzerland and gay jewellery from France - in that very year, I say, the greatest pictures of Venetian masters were rotting at Venice in the rain, for want of a roof to cover them, with holes made by cannon shot through their canvas.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Leningrad 1944
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Saturday, 12 February 2011
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
green dream

The emerald lawn. That's all he could remember, it was all he had. Perhaps it was because he had been so drawn to it in the first place, as he found the inch-perfect green beryl carpet deeply satisfying; nature standing to attention. A swirl of emerald, dark green with a greyish hue - this he had, no more.
There was something about the Burgh Island Hotel lawn; at the meticulous and delicate hands of an expert gardener it became a veneration of the dazzling yet orderly geometric lines of the new building.
Running water. Edward's hazy emerald dream came to an abrupt end. A stream of water was flowing from the lavish nickel plated taps of his en-suite bathroom. He raised from his bed - too quick - he was out again; first black, then green.
Sunday, 2 January 2011
Tiger
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