I love it when the strong winter sun produces dramatic patches of intense burnt-out white. Colour becomes meaningless and shape rules supreme. This was our walk today.
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Oxford Days
A 40-odd year old photograph of me, surrounded by textbooks and typewriter, and captioned "Oxford, 1984" might suggest an involv...
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I've no idea who the child is or why the donkey seems to have lost its head, but that doesn't matter. It's just one of the pri... -
Y ou can spend too long sat inside reading old newspapers and cataloguing old postcards. There comes a time in the affairs of man when he s...
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