Blinman Revisited
It was at the back of a cupboard, in an album whose pages had curled and yellowed with age. The … Continue reading Blinman Revisited
St. Mary’s Dymock
A bell tolls. Its sound rolls across the village: slow, deliberate, resonant, as though each stroke is being rung not … Continue reading St. Mary’s Dymock
Strange Faces
The dome of Herefordshire sky above Kilpec is so wide and blue it seems like a theatre backdrop, flecked with … Continue reading Strange Faces
The Chapel in the Hills
At the end of a dusty sheep walk, just beyond the bramble-pricked hedges and the scatterings of wool snagged on … Continue reading The Chapel in the Hills
The Bridge at Crickhowell
This is a statement in stone, a survivor of centuries, a spine across the river, carrying the memory of hooves and wheels, boots and bare feet. Continue reading The Bridge at Crickhowell
À la Recherché de la Porte Bleue
There are some films you never grow out of. For me, one of them is Notting Hill. It’s not just … Continue reading À la Recherché de la Porte Bleue
The Standing Stones
Taking shelter by the standing stonesMiles from all that moves… …feeling spirits never far removed” – Ultravox, Man of Two Worlds … Continue reading The Standing Stones
The Ruins of Llanthony
The priory appears suddenly—half in ruin, half in shadow—as though it has risen from the earth itself. The surrounding hills form a vast amphitheatre, each ridge and fold reflecting the broken symmetry of the priory’s arches and towers. These aren’t just hills; they’re a congregation. And Llanthony stands at their centre, the altar to a forgotten order. Continue reading The Ruins of Llanthony
The London Village
And everywhere, there’s the sense that this is its own place: not just a neighbourhood of London, but a village that happens to have been swallowed up by the city. Notting Hill doesn’t feel like part of the capital. It feels like a walled garden. A stage set. A place apart. Continue reading The London Village
The Walls of Raglan
Deep within the walls of Raglan Castle, I climb the spiral stairs to the top of the keep. My footfalls … Continue reading The Walls of Raglan
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