The picture–room

Where no one walks

2012-02-07T23:19:00.001Z

Every day view : III

2012-02-07T23:16:00.003Z

Tree and snow

2012-02-07T23:15:00.000Z

Every day view : II

2012-02-07T21:11:00.001Z

On a cold night

2012-02-02T18:46:00.000Z

Every day view : I

2012-01-25T23:24:00.000Z

I hadn't noticed until now (continued)

2012-01-14T22:33:00.000Z

…I found myself gliding along on my bike past a row of two tiered council flats. They were painted white and bright lights shone from them. Illuminated in the surrounding blackness.

Door after door. Red, blue, yellow, burgundy, brown and green.

I had a slow motion movie moment.

I had a vague idea where I was but I’d never seen this part before. As I passed the last flat I came round a corner and at the exact same time, the hooded person appeared out of nowhere, again. They must have taken a short cut. I wasn’t scared of this person but they might have started to think I was following them! They reached the exit of the small car park, just before the distance between me and the gap I was aiming for was getting smaller. I was right behind them, I didn’t have a bell to ding and as the words ‘excuse me’ nearly squeaked out, I glided past them and sped off ahead. My bright yellow helmet will certainly have given me away as an intruder, not from around there.

I was back on the main road, hurray! I cycled slowly down the last straight back to my flat and as I pulled in, glanced up at the full moon. As bright as the many white lights adorning the row of council flats, I was stunned! I looked some more, not sure what I was expecting to see and then wheeled my bike to the front door and I was home.

Sunlight distraction

2012-01-01T20:10:00.001Z

Man on platform

2012-01-01T20:09:00.001Z

Seascape

2011-12-17T14:47:00.000Z

I hadn't noticed until now...

2011-12-11T13:42:00.001Z

I took a detour on my way back from work. A last minute change of plan, I took a sharp right off Essex Road in an attempt to grab a glance at a flat that the boy's would be viewing the next day. Must be down here somewhere I thought...
As I cycled on, the road became more narrow and I noticed that in the darkness the pavements were blanketed in yellow and orange leaves. Somewhere between summer and it getting cold, I hadn't noticed until now that it was Autumn.
As I kept cycling I spotted a wall of black railings. Is this a dead end I thought to myself. I stopped to ponder and noticed the curtain of a top floor flat draw open. I felt like I was being watched and that I probably looked quite dodgy hanging around on my bike in a dark and quiet street.
I quickly cycled on and the wall of railings appeared to be staggered for pedestrians, so I cycled through. Then I noticed straight ahead of me, a brick wall this time.
A lone figure appeared from the darkness to my right, crossed my path and disappeared down another road. Couldn't tell if it was a woman or a man. Just a person wearing a light grey tracksuit, white trainers and hood up.
I decided to take a left at the brick wall....to be continued!

Construction

2011-11-15T23:31:00.001Z

At the pictures

2011-11-04T15:15:00.000Z

Mini ocean

2011-11-03T17:43:00.000Z

The seats on the bus are turquoise. The plastic rims of the seats are turquoise, the walls are turquoise and the floor is splattered in a kind of spraypaint style turquoise.
Not everything is turquoise though. The rails and handles are cream, the stop buttons are red and the text on the 'next stop' notification board is yellow. Matching the little yellow handles swinging from the ceiling.
This bus is like travelling in a mini ocean. A mini ocean driving through suburban London.
The people getting off the bus are like little fish, all swimming out of the doors in a synchronised pattern.
There is a striking looking girl sat on one of the back seats of the bus who could almost be a mermaid. With her long blond hair tied up in a knot, tied into place with a deep burgundy scarf.
A perfect contrast to the turquoise ocean around her.

Waking up to dawn

2011-09-19T00:28:00.000+01:00

In Peru...

2011-08-30T16:31:00.000+01:00

Peru . Blue skies . Mountains . Road-side shrines . Lots of children . Well behaved children . Smiling and laughing . Long winding roads . Condors, alpacas, sheep and cows . Wild dogs . Everyone is working . Doing something . Selling something . Street vendors . Snacks . Chica . Chico . Fresh and healthy wholesome food . Houses houses houses . Vast and wonderful landscapes . Una bottella de agua . Election propaganda . Beliefs . Culture . Catholic . Quechuan . Aymara . Famers and cattle . Sunhats . Traditional hats . Bowler hats . Baseball caps . Dusty roads . Motor taxis . Inca Kola and rum . Sunshine . Peru

Bike in the rain

2011-07-16T12:49:00.000+01:00

Takeaways on Essex Road

2011-07-12T23:32:00.000+01:00

Monsoon
Palmera Oasis
Zigni House
Sultan Ahmet
Xiong Mao
Georges Fish Bar
Essex Road Kebab
Bombay Bicycle Club

While walking out of Tesco's with an oversized jar of peanut butter and some Palmolive hand wash because it was on special offer for a pound, I spotted Tom, Brendan and Andy having a cigarette on their balcony. I waved and crossed the lights to say hello. They had been at football.

I waved bye and then two small boys came out of the newsagents and one started waving a family sized bag of crisps in my face, shouting "Want some crisps?! Want some crisps ha ha ha ha?!

While my immediate reaction was to try and see what flavour they were (Walkers sweet chilli sensations) I felt quite freaked out by the whole affair and walked away thinking...'I wish I'd snatched those crisps right out of that boys hand, and said something like .."Who want's some crisps now?!" While waving them high in the air.

Mean dog

2011-07-06T11:47:00.000+01:00

Just passing

2011-06-26T00:56:00.001+01:00

Out of the norm

2011-06-14T00:15:00.000+01:00

I stepped onto the bus without acknowledging the driver. Off the sunny street where workers passing by were oblivious and everything was the same as yesterday. I followed the woman and the man with the grey suit onto the bus, it felt like we knew each other, yet we were strangers. The bus was quiet and you could feel tension in the air.
Three people were sat towards the front, a few people towards the back, one person on the top deck. The passengers were giving each other occasional glances in-between checking their phones and looking out of the window.
The woman went to speak to the driver and asked someone for a pen. She lifted up her fringe and revealed a red mark on her forehead.
I followed the woman up the isle to the back of the bus. She sat on the right side, I sat on the left. The bus had started moving by this point and we both sat there for a while, both facing forward, both staring into space.

The black skinned man in a smart grey suit jumped up and darted to the speak to the driver. "Is it my stop yet?! Listen mate, it's cool, there are loads of witnesses here. You did nothing wrong. I saw the guy run in front of the bus, we all saw." He sat back down.

I turned to the woman. "Are you ok?" "Yes", she said. She was a Muslim woman, about sixty years old. Tilting her head a little from side to side, lifting the falling scarf back over her head and stretching out her bare feet on the seat in front, she laughed sweetly as she told me she was actually on her way to get her picture taken today.

"You should get to a hospital woman!" "You might feel fine now, but later....?" Stated the grey suited man. Silence resumed.

The young lady at the front was clutching some red stained tissue paper in her right hand. Her friend looking concerned for her.

In the town centre the traffic was back to back. Out of the corner of my eye, head spinning, I heard a loud and long beeeeeeeep beeeeeeeeep. The bus driver shouted out. A man in a red jumper ran sheepishly across the tiny space in front of the bus.
With no notice, I slowly crawled onto the seats facing me. I slumped my body across the two seats and pulled my legs towards me. I had wedged myself tightly into the gap in the seats, head and all. There wasn't any time for an explanation.
Suddenly I felt myself flying backwards, back onto my seat at an incomprehensible speed. As my body was moving through the air I felt the force then I paused, I paused for a millisecond thinking...'for crying out loud, bloody London bus drivers, here we go again!', before landing sharply back in my seat.

I was back at the beginning of my journey. The grey suited man walked towards the front with his laptop case in hand. He asked the bus driver if this bus goes to Peartree Street, and then asked the driver to tell him when to get off. "Thanks." he said as the bus doors opened and stepped off the bus back onto the sunny street, where everything was the same as yesterday.

The cutting room

2011-06-13T23:30:00.001+01:00

Thunderstorm passes

2011-05-28T11:10:00.000+01:00

Evening walk

2011-05-18T11:08:00.000+01:00

Smell . Street . Bin men . With headphones on . Runner man . Runs like a girl . Cool wind in my hair . Pizza delivery man on scooter . Rain smell . Amber traffic lights . Outdoor pub drinkers . Vintage car . Tower blocks . City Kebab . Satellite dishes . Tree shadows on streetlight . Duck under a tree . Building twenty-five to fourty-eight . Footprints on damp pavement . Two ladies walking together . Two more ladies walking together . Passing theatre crowds . Angel centre approaching . Very slow passing theatre crowds . Green traffic lights . Sirens . Cars . Street . Smell

Sunny leaves

2011-05-16T12:35:00.000+01:00

This morning

2011-05-07T17:21:00.000+01:00

Today the atmosphere outside is slightly damp and the colour light grey. But not cold, just slightly cool to add freshness and not stickiness. There is an ever so light sprinkle of rain as well, that has dusted the concrete paving stones with dark grey patches. The trees look happy too, for soaking up a bit of moisture after the long sunny days we've been having in London.

Salt and pepper shakers

2011-05-05T13:15:00.001+01:00

Amsterdam stairwell

2011-04-18T21:58:00.000+01:00

Amsterdam sunset

2011-04-17T11:37:00.000+01:00

Stoke Newington corner shop

2011-04-01T08:37:00.000+01:00

Tracks in Clapham

2011-03-31T15:12:00.000+01:00

Saturday sun strike

2011-03-21T19:22:00.000Z

Round we go!

2011-03-21T01:54:00.000Z

On boarding the train, I'd mistakenly stepped onto the wrong carriage, so instead of sitting on a comfy reserved seat I was now standing with my bag by my feet, right next to the toilets, in a very crowded carriage. I was invisible to the chaos around me so I quietly observed.

A mother sat uncomfortably on a fold-down seat. To the left of her sat the eldest child, about seven or eight. To the right a younger one about five and the youngest was strapped into a buggy.
The mothers' task for the journey was simply to to keep it all together, trying to prevent a simmering pan from boiling over and chaos ensuing. She had been doing alright, preparing the children for the trip to grandmas, but sweat was beginning to drop from her forehead. She was fair skinned, but wearing black traditional muslim dress, the drapes of fabric tried to but failed to hide her overweight size.
With one hand flinging her fallen scarf back round her neck she reaches for her youngest with the other, undoes the buckle on the buggy and whips her onto her lap.
"Round we go, wheeee! Round and round in a circle." Pastry flakes fly from the little girls hands and mouth from the Gregs pasty she had been munching away on moments before. They all laugh, except the eldest, who being the eldest child decides she's not getting enough attention, so makes a scheming plan to attract some. "I'm taking my top off, i'm too hot!"she yells. The mother is not too sure how to handle this situation.

Hotel room

2011-03-20T21:34:00.000Z

Hackney blossoms

2011-03-08T16:44:00.001Z

Polystyrene cup

2011-03-04T11:42:00.000Z

Nice area of town, just off Farringdon Road. A hustling, bustling street market, with shops, pubs and cafés a-plenty. The door to the café was narrow and squished right in the corner and and you were greeted with the cold drinks fridge as soon as you entered. There were green plants and chairs outside which was welcoming, and it was clean and polished inside with a few customers sat down enjoying a late breakfast.

"Do you do breakfast rolls?"
"Yes..."
..."egg?"
..."...yes...
"...scrambled?"
"ok." There is a short pause and the conversation is resumed. "Scrumbbld?"
"Sorry..?" I reply
"Scrummblerd?"
"um...oh...yes! Scrambled, yes.!! Do you have brown bread...?"
"....yes"
"and a cappucino?"
"yes. Do you want sugar?"
"....hmmm, no thanks."

There was a newspaper lay on one of the tables worthy of a quick browse, the Daily Mirror or the Sun.
MRS OBAMA HAS A BARMY. flick flick. WHAT RECESSION? flick flick LADY GAGA'S WILD NIGHT OUT. flick flick flick PEARCE MORGEN ASKS LADY GAGA TO COME ON HIS CHAT SHOW NAKED. flick flick. SIMON COWELL AND SOMETHING ABOUT TWITTER. flick flick. I KILL FOR ALLAH.flick flick flick end.

There is a mumble coming from behind where I'm stood, wierd. And another. Turns out it is the man from behind the counter. The butty and cappuccino are ready to go, sitting in a brown paper bag. £3.10 is exchanged and the man from the counter very pleasantly and with a smile says, "thank you very much...and have a nice weekend." How lovely! He seemed like a timid man, but very kind.

The scrambled egg roll was reluctantly eaten, and the cappuccino came in disguise as a very weak instant coffee with what could have been powdered milk...served in a polystyrene cup.

Off the beaten track

2011-03-01T20:43:00.000Z

Two pounds for a latte

2011-02-22T21:44:00.000Z

It was two pounds for a latte to sit in. The people were very friendly. It looked like an Italian family run business. I'm early for work today, so am enjoying the luxury of a nice coffee beforehand.
The atmosphere inside the café is warm and relaxed but the staff are still busy, catering to the regualr flow of customers at the front counter. Outside it's raining.
It was raining very hard this morning but now it's sort of medium raining. It's thin rain but there's a lot of it, coming down at a fourty-five degree angle. It's also very grey outside, almost photographically de-saturated in contrast to the warm hues of inside.
My coffee is almost finished now. A tiny puddle of liquid is sitting in the bottom of the cup, whilst white foamy froth lines the inside.
I swirl it around and gulp it down.
I will say thank you! as I walk out of the café and will then dart across the road, through the rain, to my destination; work...on a Saturday!

Just the sandwich

2011-02-03T12:50:00.003Z

£3.20 for a cheese salad sandwich and a packet of salt and vinegar Golden Wonders. It was just the sandwich I was hoping for after assessing the exterior of the shop on my approach. Old- fashioned looking, in a working-class town centre kind of way, traditional. It was nice and quiet inside with a few elderly people sat down. The hot-snacks display cabinet didn't look too appealing but that didn't bother me. I was asked if I wanted white or brown bread and later if I wanted salt or pepper. I was pondering the Liverpool and Arsenal mugs on the shelf in front of me when a nice lady appeared from the back and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea. "Do ya wan a cap a tea?" "No thank you", I replied.
The sandwich was really decent with good-old sliced white bread, cheddar cheese, iceberg lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo, the works and brought back fond memories of trips out shopping with my dad to Stockport, where we'd pick up some screws and light bulbs, stop by the antiques shop and walk by a bakery for a cheese salad and mayo sandwich!

On Broadway Market

2011-01-10T17:49:00.000Z

Waiting for an interview

2010-12-13T02:52:00.000Z

Cold outside

2010-11-29T12:28:00.000Z

Study of man on the tube II

2010-11-21T16:13:00.000Z

Awkwardly perched on the edge of a fold down seat, 'the next station is Kennington' is an old man, grey hair on his head. He has walked out of the doors now, but I shall continue. A smart old man, he decided to wear a loose fitting shirt, the colour blue, not quite navy, a sea blue maybe. White and chequered and clean, which matched his hair, was he even there? With his toes pointed towards each other like a little child and his socks pulled up he looked somewhat innocent. But this man was so old, so he must be wise, no other clues except his disguise.

Now I'm getting off and I'm changing line. We're all walking together like a rally of troops. A young guy strums on his guitar, just a couple of sweet notes. Up the stairs, round and round until we reach the platform Central Line Eastbound. 'This is Bank! Mind the gap!' The rumbling echo begins, it's getting louder and louder but it's not my train. That one is westbound to some other place. Eyes stare and wonder, living in the present time. This train is busy and I have to stand, in between three men, no disguises there. With coffee's in hand, cases by feet, they are having a little laugh a smile and a joke.

Off I get! "This station is Liverpool Street!" The train zooms through the tunnel like a diver through the sea, there is a flash of light only I see.

Study of man on the tube I

2010-11-20T15:57:00.000Z

My section of the carriage is seating eight people and there is one standing. The man directly opposite me is smart and sharp. 'The next station is Balham!' He is wearing quite an ordinary black suit but it is well fitted, as are his nice black socks and shiny polished black shoes. His black glasses have thick strong rims, so I gather that whatever he intends to read, or look at, he is quite serious in his manner.
The only part of him that isn't black is his pure light-pink shirt. A sign of a modern man, not ashamed to show his feminine side. Perhaps his wife chose it for him but I can't see if he's wearing a ring.
This man has a document placed on his lap, with charts, tables and notes scribbled all over it. He is holding a shiny silver clicky pencil in his right hand and 'this station is Clapham Common!' ..he makes the occasional flick and the occasional note. He stops and does a lot of thinking, staring into space, then with his eyebrows raised and the creases in his pink forehead in place, he looks down and scribbles some more.
A true London business man catching the tube. In and other city you wouldn't find such a man on public transport, but everyone gets the tube in London. It would cease to function without him.

Stone, seaweed, sand and wood

2010-11-07T21:13:00.000Z

Cave on the beach

2010-11-06T20:14:00.000Z

Feather in the sand

2010-11-05T13:03:00.000Z

Blue and yellow fishing boat

2010-11-04T20:08:00.000Z

2010-11-03T23:07:00.000Z

Time to escape London town and take a holiday in Cornwall.

Warm bricks in Farringdon

2010-10-30T15:20:00.000+01:00

Underground tunnel

2010-10-13T15:20:00.000+01:00

Man with the mustard-gold handkerchief

2010-10-05T15:17:00.000+01:00

A 'mature' aged couple have just arrived on the train at Stockport, and have taken up a four seater table. I can see the man from where I'm sitting, or should I say 'gentleman'. He is a plumpish man with greying hair and rosy cheeks and dressed incredibly smartly oh yes. He's wearing a navy blue jacket, beige trousers and blue shirt, all topped off with a fabulous mustard gold pocket handkerchief and rainbow striped tie.
What he is wearing and the fact that he's clearly upper class is not what stands most though. What stands out, and it bemuses me to think I find this strange, is that while he tucks into his sandwich he casually pulled out a miniature bottle of red wine, decanted it into a plastic glass and started casually sipping away on it.
This obviously isn't an unfamiliar slight on a train, but at about two pm on a Stockport to Buxton train...yes. A typically rickety affair that rarely has an unblocked toilet, let alone an onboard café. The average journey ranges from ten to forty minutes, so we're not exactly crossing borders here.
A middle aged man drinking a can of cider would be much more acceptable in this situation albeit slightly trampy, but we'd accept he had his own reasons for drinking, and wouldn't be causing any trouble by staring aimlessly out of the window.
However, there is something quite unsettling about the posh man sipping red wine. He seems out of place...doesn't he drive a porsche? If there was a first class on this train he'd be sat in it, but lost in conversation about South Africa, podiatry, VAT and the "rather-good" example of architecture at New Mills station, frankly dear, he doesn't seem to give a damn!

No glasses here

2010-10-03T14:25:00.000+01:00

Brighton bus ride

2010-10-02T14:23:00.000+01:00

Nobody around but the sun and I

2010-09-29T16:37:00.000+01:00

Empty tube station

2010-08-09T15:07:00.000+01:00

A couple of cappuccinos

2010-07-24T07:00:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, Melanie came to stay with me in. She came because she was going to her friend's wedding at the weekend and decided to kill two birds with one stone.
Like a game of role reversal, now I'm the Londonite and she no longer.
Mel has done London and is now pursuing her career in teaching back home in Stockport. After trying out several jobs here and abroad she has focused her life, got a PGCE and is now a biology teacher. Good for her! I on the other hand am only just trying to find my feet in London.
Anyway, we had a nice day out together and with no real goals set, we achieved just about...nothing, but enjoyed ourselves and had many giggles along the way.
We wandered along the Thames, crossed a few bridges, took a few photos. We got lost, stumbled upon some random artwork which was a man formed from metal tetris shapes...naturally we took turns to have our photo with him. We got stuck in tourist traps which was really not what we had intended but trudged on with the hope of food and drink just round the corner. We landed in Covent Garden and after searching for a cool café we ended up in that unknown, bourgeois French sandwich shop...Pret á Manger? We had a couple of cappuccinos and munched on some crisps...it was just what we needed. There was even a celebrity sighting... Mel saw her first and apparently got full on eye contact, but I was staring up at some street signs and missed the whole thing. It was Emma Watson, Hermione Granger from Harry Potter. Very petite with shoulder length blond hair and wearing double denim. Cool.
Next, we headed to a bar on the trendy Charlotte Street where my sister Rani and her work friends were to meet us later for a drink. We avoided a mini downpour and eventually found the bar and found some seats outside. We couldn't decide whether to get a drink straight away or wait for Rani, so we just sat there and chatted much to the annoyance of the waitress. Eventually we succumbed to a strawberry and kiwi mojito for Mel and a pinapple and Caramel mojito for me. Coming in at 8 quid each we hoped they'd be worth the risk, but they were very tasty indeed.
When my sister arrived, we just sat and chatted. Rani's friends were really nice and funny, infact they were kind of like Rani herself! But, most of the time me and Mel just chatted between ourselves because we hadn't had the chance in ages. We like talking about relationships and often other peoples! I can't mention names..
We had the option of staying out that night but in the end, decided to leave with Rani and head back to her house and my temporary home, in Tooting Broadway.
Mel and I had the whole of of London at our fingertips that night, but somehow, after our long and tiring day, it just seemed a bit too daunting.

Hackney wander

2010-07-20T15:36:00.000+01:00

Bedroom skylight in Hackney

2010-07-20T07:29:00.000+01:00

Arriving in London

2010-07-20T05:40:00.000+01:00

I arrived in London today. At around half ten pm my train from Manchester Piccadilly pulled up at London Euston and as I stepped off the train onto the platform it hit me for the first time. I felt the warmth of the night air, walked forward a little, then kind of spun around as if disorientated. I grinned a really big grin to myself. I mean, if that was M'cr Pic station and I'd just arrived home from somewhere I would be bang straight on the platform confident as anything, strutting to the escalator, zooming in front of people, whizzing around them. But not here. I walked slowly and steadily down the relatively quiet platform, initially due to the really slow granny in front of me who I had to overtake, but I took my time.

  In the central hub of London Euston station there was a pleasant relaxed atmosphere. There were plenty of people but not too much movement, the odd troupe of passengers arriving off a train and heading for the tube but other than that people were generally milling, hanging around, pondering etc. I liked it and instantly noticed the change in the variety of people. To me London is so different from what I know. It looks different, it smells different of cooking and pavements and the people are different. My mother said to me just before I left that I would see all-sorts in London, from people covered from head to toe to people wearing next to nothing, and they all happily mingle side by side.

  I'm instantly drawn to staring at strangers and this was my natural reaction when sitting down waiting for my sister to come and collect me. But this time I thought no, I'm not going to stare because my imagination runs wild and I start to think too much. So I controlled it, resisted temptation/habit and instead read my paper, looked at the departures board, looked up at the ceiling and noticed all the CCTV cameras. I even went for a little walk around. This felt good.

  Then my sister arrived. Straight at me with a karate kick! "Sorry you had to wait!" she said. "Where's your guitar??!!!...I told you like three times to bring it!"

Just like normal, me and my sis together, nothing different, apart from now we're both in London for the first time. This felt good.

Stormy sky in Bamburgh

2010-07-11T00:42:00.000+01:00

Fiery sky in Bamburgh

2010-07-10T16:34:00.000+01:00

Edinburgh basement home

2010-06-20T16:36:00.000+01:00

Sunset in Edinburgh

2010-06-17T15:42:00.000+01:00

Looking up

2010-06-14T19:39:00.000+01:00

Out of my window

2010-06-13T17:43:00.000+01:00

The view out of my front window is limited. All there is, as I lie in my bed staring, thinking, dreaming, is a stone staircase with a black cast iron banister leading up to the road.
If the weather is bad, I don't look out. But when the sun is out the view comes to life.
The light streams down into the normally dark dungeon like basement from the sky above. Broken up by the railing, shards of yellow and white strike through the window onto the soft grey blanket on my bed, warming it up, then moving up and along the white wall.
The new shoots of green leaves on the windowsill lean into the sun, stretching out and soaking it all up.

The Royal Mile

2010-06-01T15:41:00.000+01:00

Window flowers

2010-05-14T12:35:00.000+01:00

Gorgie Road cat

2010-04-24T01:14:00.000+01:00

Glasgow big city lights

2010-04-13T16:34:00.000+01:00

Red letter box

2010-04-13T12:29:00.000+01:00

Lorry windscreen reflection

2010-04-04T23:46:00.000+01:00

Gallery Life

2010-01-30T00:30:00.000Z

Inside these four walls of the control room,
It is still fairly bright,
As night races over the sea
To devour any remaining light.
Outside these four walls, the gallery looms.
The temperature falls below zero and
The work; becomes alive.
It groans and wails, desperate to be heard,
Like a whirlwind gathering speed,
Insane and perturb.
Two young guys, just passing by
Have been drawn in by the noise.
They are confronted with the monstrosity
That has sucked up everything around it,
Into a great big swirl up and up,
Reaching to the roof then crying out to the room.
You are at the mercy of this piece of art.
You are at the mercy of the message it reveals.
The terror of domesticity, death and wealth.
All that we fear with a seductive tone,
You'll see it right here.

Office block reflections

2010-01-25T12:21:00.000Z

Temp job window view

2010-01-20T22:24:00.000Z

The light of the day has settled in, the sky a block of white grey, no movement, no clouds, no sun. Everything in the foreground stands out. The surrounding houses. Cream, blue, grey and burnt red, with white bordered windows and shiny tiled roofs.
In the centre background sits a cluster of vertical objects, chimneys and spires, black trees and television aerials. All sorts of birds twist and turn and swirl and swoop around them, occasionally stopping to perch on top of a chimney spout for a break. As we draw nearer we reach the electricity pole with cables strewed out to the left in a near symmetrical style. Raindrops sit in a row, like sliver beads threaded onto a black string.
Behind the cables stands a dark tree. Naked and stripped of its leaves, its branches have become a mesh, going in whichever direction they choose. Like witches fingers they point down, but do nothing.

Edinburgh glows

2010-01-05T16:35:00.000Z

The restaurant, Edinburgh

2009-11-23T22:55:00.000Z

"The 13 have cancelled, bastards! The chef shouts at the bookings book with the waitress stood beside him. He repeats this as he walks into the kitchen, doors swinging shut behind him. "The thirteen have cancelled, bastards! BASTARDS!"...

The restaurant was joined onto the theatre, like a less fortunate conjoined twin, the one with only one lung, no kidneys and a small chance of survival. Unknowingly, it was clinging on to the theatre for dear life.

"Oh, you order first. I always order second, it's my thing," the older squinty eyed man pronounced. "Damn! That's not fair," replied the other, a loud and rather obnoxious man, "..well the Dolcelatte salad looks nice," he added. "I'll go for that too then!" replied squinty eyed man. A few moments passed and the loud obnoxious man shouts "Penné!". Sheepishly echoed with "two pennés".
The loud man is dressed head to toe in black. Shiny black shoes with a little heel and loose black trousers. A straight black jacket and underneath, as a desperate attempt to look young he was sporting a fitted black t-shirt. His phone starts ringing from the moment he sits down. Brrriiinnnnnggggg, Bbrrriiiinnnggggg and at such a pitch that everyone else in the restaurant shudders, stops in their path or reaches into their handbags like a reflex reaction.
Loud man answers the phone every single time, like anyone trying to contact him is much more important that the lunch he has attended. After the first three or four times, squinty eyes stops acting bothered and when loud man gets up off his seat to perch by the shiny gold railed balcony chatting loudly on his phone, squinty reaches for the pamphlet, the object of discussion and holds it two centimetres from his face, moving it slowly horizontally and then vertically so it almost touches his nose.
"Would you like to try the wine sir?" Still on his phone, loud man fires a strong nod in the direction of the waitress. She pours a little into the glass and he takes a sip, but as he's so absorbed in his mobile phone conversation, he doesn't bother to look back at the girl to accept the bottle. She politely as possible looks to squinty eyes with a half smile, and pours away. Shortly after a vacant look returns to her face.

Barcelona

2009-10-20T12:05:00.000+01:00

Shadow angles

2009-08-16T18:04:00.000+01:00

Woodstock poem

2009-08-15T22:15:00.000+01:00

The black king
He sways and he prays
as he plays his magic guitar.
Mesmerised by his cries,
his American pride, there are
no lies.
Sinking in dips and dives,
deep, contrived.
The soul tells no lies.
Clean and white is his
virgin bride, which he
caresses and strokes,
pulls out the sound, and
smothers the skies.
The leaves on the trees move
to the music, that
the black king provides.

In New Town

2009-08-01T12:52:00.000+01:00

Poker game round the boys'

2009-07-22T23:28:00.000+01:00

Andy, who ponders out loud whether there could be any other colour of music other than the blues, gets little response. Except the suggestion of Jason Orange, which seemed to depress him further. He's wearing a dashingly bright green t-shirt, which in music terms, could promise to induce some sort of nausea. He's confident and has gambled more than three quarters of his chips in the first hand. He continues to be confident that he'll win them straight back.
Alan is sitting quietly and still. He also lost more than three quarters of his chips in the first hand, but is anything but confident now because unlike Andy, he knows he won't win them back. Alan's t-shirt is modern and stripy and his hair longish, black and much calmer than in previous years. Leaving the room to make a cheese toasty, his mind is clearly not on the game. Maybe it'll pick up for him in the next game.
It's a steady game, poker, and seems more suited to men. When it's someones turn to shuffle this allows time to fetch cold beers from the fridge, or roll a cigarette. There is an even mix of concentration, chat, suspense and boredom.
Graham is the working boy with a proper nine to five job, five days a week. It's well paid and he actually quite likes it. With his hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, the other boys are pleased to see him when he rocks up in the evenings with a smile on his face and a bag full of beers.
Tim is sitting next to Graham. He is the only one with what looks like bright orange paint dripping down his arm. Its actually a recent tattoo to prove his dedication to the art of graffiti. Tim is acting surprisingly cool and collected. He likes his new job at a trendy Edinburgh bar and the social life that goes with it. He escaped his managerial job at Pizza Hut and left Alan there to slave away serving pizzas and desperately entertaining families for tips. After six years and counting, Pizza Hut is the only steady thing in Alans life. Even with his big move down to London just on the horizon, the big smoke, as a fresh-out-of-uni filmmaker, may end up as him slaving away at a different Pizza Hut down south.
Alan and Andy discuss their plans for a ninja film. It has potential.
Jack, normally the one to watch out for, is not doing great in this game. Slouched back in his favourite vintage green armchair rescued from the street, he is sporting his wildly red tracksuit top tonight. Bought while in Peru for a fancy dress party, the red jacket is typically worn on poker night. It reminds everyone else he's there, and that he could be taking their money home. But not tonight, because he's tired, out of luck and...out.

Doll and Sweet Jane

2009-03-05T00:27:00.000Z

Sweet Jane was a kind young girl. She was free and easy, as every young girl should be. Never made a fuss, never made a sound. Never wanted much, did not see any point in having lots of toys as she was happy with one. One doll. The doll was her friend, her baby, her only companion. Doll was what she called it because a doll was what it was.

It was a Tuesday morning and the sun was up. The sun was out in Sweet Jane’s mind and she was going on a trip. She sat in the car and watched the world whizz by, with Doll by her side. Life flashed and flickered, as it always did. She was gripped with anticipation.

She arrived at a church. Grand and old, it loomed high above her as she entered through the towering doorway. Who were all these people? Mutters around her. Eyes scouring the marble floor. Ladies skirts and long black legs.

Jane looked up. She saw her father walking towards her. The crowd seemed to part, the waves divided.

Slowly and gracefully he moved, Jane’s eyes widening, she felt a cold breeze against her rosy cheeks. “Hello Jane”. She smiled, always pleased to see her daddy, and awaited him to talk some more. “Jane. Your grandpa has died.” He spoke gently, but the words fell out of his mouth and smashed to the marble floor.

He looked at Jane, expressionless, and reached out to touch the angelic hair on her head. Then turned around, and walked away. His shadow becoming smaller and smaller, as the sea of black bodies closed in behind him.

Sweet Jane did not move, she did not shed a tear. How could she? She didn’t know how.

She held Doll tighter than she ever had before, because Doll was all she had.

Oh Sweet nuthin’, she ain’t got nothing at all.

Oh Sweet nuthin’, you know she ain’t got nothing at all.

Trainers in Brighton

2009-03-01T15:52:00.000Z

Foot of the Walk

2009-02-21T00:00:00.000Z

I have never walked into a pub of my choice, solely for intent to write. I don’t have a problem with doing something such as this, sometimes thrive on the independence in fact. I feel ok, I chose Wetherspoons on the foot of Leith Walk because even though I don’t now, I used to live directly opposite, and seeing Wetherspoons out of the living room window became a familiar and pleasing sight. Whilst people rush about and tarmac gets pulled up, cars stop and start, beeping their horns, Wetherspoons stays still. It’s there, it doesn’t move.
There are Wetherspoons in every city and town. Most renowned as sociable drinking holes. No music, cheap decent food, housed in large disused buildings such as I don’t know, ballrooms or such places.

Whomever you find in a Wetherspoons can speak about the area outside. Listen to the conversations, look at the faces. The ages and the colours. These are the real people, forget everyone else.
“I tell ye!” “I’ve bein an dun it!” It’s a rumble of chatter. The noise moves around, it goes low when there are thoughts and nods. When a hand lifts to an old man’s head. Then the sound grows. It grows even more, creeping, unsuspectedly until bam! The group of men in the corner burst out in husky laughter. Engaged in their friend’s stories, they are having a good time.

The man sitting closest to me, and he is very close indeed, looks bored. So bored that he might very well get up and leave at any minute even though…!!! He bloody well did! He bloody well got up and left. He’s gone, he’s out the exit. Into the dark outside, perhaps onto the next pub, perhaps home. Who was he, the man with a constant twitch. Knees sporadically knocking together. Look left, look right, to the wide screen T.V, then to the floor. He’s gone now but he’s still here, on the paper, it continues, he’s not gone. The chair where he was sat still pulled away from the table as he left it, but his empty pint glass gone. His skin was deep brown, his jumper deep blue, his eyes sleepy, then alert. A lone sailor in a sea of other. No one else like him here. No one else. He’s gone now, but he’s still here.

Quick cigarette, and the pub right next door seems a very different place. When you walk past it’s lit inside like a goldfish bowl of characters you couldn’t even start to describe. The real of the real, if such people exist. They have the stories, and the troubles that could cripple my young and impressionable mind. Two drunks outside tell a girl to smile. “Go on, smile.” Fuck off, she says under her breath. I wouldn’t be worried love, don’t take it personally. This is Leith. Wander back in. “Hello!” says the man pointing towards the ladies toilet. I give him a smile. He’s sat with his friend since I got here and they’ve been chatting none stop. Chatting, and watching me, a lot. See, I can’t understand them, they’re speaking in another language, Polish, Russian, Bulgarian. And that’s it. They shake hands, and they’re off, separate ways. Both small with slightly dark skin and hair. They looked a little Italian, they looked like they work hard. And now, they’re gone. One of them has stayed and he wants to chat to me, seems nice. He says he’s from Turkey. Thinks I’m Spanish. Spanish?! I won’t get into that now, but no. No thankyou.

Might I write about the man with no head…? Well of course he has a head, only I can’t see it past the pillar in front of him. Two shoulders, and two pints is all I see. Not much going on there, the man with no head.

I love the four elderly men sat round a tall table on stools, and the family of three, with a young sprightly girl of around ten or eleven. The wise man drinking his coffee, and all the rest. But time has passed and I’ve gotta get out of here. Before people start writing about me.

Foot of the Walk, Leith, 7.30p.m, Wed 18th Feb 09

Golden City of Levenshulme

2007-12-23T14:44:00.000Z

The sky on Marchmont Crescent

2007-12-05T14:41:00.000Z

Number fourty Valencia

2007-07-10T12:16:00.000+01:00

Mist over Waverley Station

2007-07-02T01:12:00.000+01:00

The Lothian Road blues

2006-12-15T01:19:00.000Z