I didn’t take this photograph quickly.
I didn’t even take it willingly at first.
It took an entire day, and it took distance — the sort that rubs your calves raw and gives your thoughts time to turn on you.
A Day Being Assessed Read More »
I took my better half and the children to a traditional Boxing Day hunt, expecting the usual chorus of sighs and phone-glazing, only to watch boredom fold neatly into astonishment as the spectacle unfolded: scarlet coats, steaming horses, brass buttons catching the winter light, and a village green momentarily upgraded to something operatic.
Horses, holly, and a hard truth trotting through Essex Read More »
It started in the mud. Thick Essex mud. The sort that clings to your boots like a drunk mate at closing time and dares you to stay standing while your nose runs like a leaky tap. Cold air, Sunday breath, and a coffee so bitter it could file for divorce. And there’s my boy, all flailing limbs and mad ambition, chasing the ball as it owed him money. Seven years old. Fierce. Oblivious. Glorious.
