The background scenery fades into a pleasant impression: Yorkshire fields, Yorkshire hills. The foreground is, however, as sharp as a weavers knife: Yorkshire stone, Yorkshire grime, Yorkshire Grit.
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Sing, Sing, Sing
This is one of my photographs from my time helping out at Marsden Jazz Festival twenty years ago. Sometimes an image is enough - you don...
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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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