cromer road school, 1984

this cruelty called sport

finally

I'm back at my parents' house in Cambridgeshire this weekend, where I am normally made to feel unwelcome by their distant, rather jumpy cat, Millie. This time round, however - perhaps spurred by the poor weather, which is keeping her indoors - she seems to be have adopted a tolerant attitude to me; not scampering angrily from the room when I enter, nor leaping a foot into the air when I extend a hand towards her.

And then, finally, a sign that, ten years in, I am finally beginning to win her over.

A gift!

drink and the light

glee

I took this photo a couple of months back in St Neots, Cambridgeshire, and didn't do anything with it. In truth it was a bit washed out and I immediately filed it as one to forget. But flicking through my photos earlier I wondered if a bit of digital manipulation might improve it - and sure enough I think it's quite a nice shot, now. It's all about the glee on the face of the little girl, I think. Feeding the ducks, of course, never becomes boring, as far as I'm concerned.

cats (and their dykes)

Spotted while out shopping in Kemp Town this weekend; marvellous.

obsessive

I've lost my copy of 'Money' - how did that happen? Looked everywhere for it. Bah.

Now that I am proper adult, and only occasionally a sulky teen, I can say it. Some of the above books are not very good. Ten years ago, I'd have sooner shaved my head than admit it.

and still the snow

snow day redux

Still more snow in the UK and, after a quiet day yesterday, Brighton is finally getting its share; we had a dusting last night which was swiftly diluted by the rain, but this morning the snow is falling thick and fast and settling sloppily on the roads. I find watching the snowdrops from my high window utterly transfixing.

Went out for a quick trot around the park earlier, glad that I chose to invest in a pair of proper waterproof boots, and took a couple of photos. Now I'm back at my desk sorting through work chores and waiting anxiously for the moment when I feel I've done enough to allow myself the reward of dashing out to build a snowman.

sunset over my office

once in a blue moon

Last night was notable not just for being the start of a new decade, but also because it offered a rare opportunity to see a blue moon; the rare sighting of a 13th full moon in a calender year. Doesn't happen often, and, while it's no different to any other full moon, it somehow felt like a priviliged, mystical moment to be eyeing it as I walked home from Dan's party at four in the morning.

To all reading who I've not spoken to in person over the last 24 hours - Happy New Year.

small seagulls

The seagulls in Brighton are so enormous - it's always funny when you see them inland and note how small they are in comparison. These were snapped in St. Ives, Cambridgeshire, this weekend. Nice chaps.

jenga dog

Possibly I have too much time on my hands.

i am no navigator

Totally lost in Budapest; or Buda to be more precise. Went for a stormy, windswept walk there the other day and totally lost my way - ended up scrambling down from Várhegy into Víziváros and, despite thinking I knew at all times where the Danube was flowing (to my right, to my right) I ended up losing my bearings completely - creating along the way a far longer, more tiring walk than I had intended. But a pleasant one regardless. Here's a photo taken somewhere along the way.

amazing parliament buildings

If the grandeur and status of the Houses of Parliament has anything at all to do with encouraging our elected politicians in the UK to feel it was legitimate to fiddle their expenses, surely the problem is, if anything, worse in Hungary?

shapes in budapest

terracotta

vilamoura

This is the place to be if you like Golf. Vilamoura, down on the Algarve, Portugal's number one tourist destination, is a kind of vast, cultivated mecca for the sport. The hotels and the roads dot and skirt at the edges of the enormous golf courses - and people like me (wearing my businessman hat) come here to pretend we're on holiday when in fact we're working. No one has played any golf. Instead I've just spent four days in meetings and bars, discussing education publishing and, actually, rather enjoying myself. Have managed to avoid overdosing on alcohol, have eaten some good fish - and am off out shortly to enjoy my final evening here before I return to Brighton. Went out earlier and took some photographs of the surrounding area; they're below - it's a strange environment. No-one around. Thick, unyielding grass, professionally manicured. And lots of plush villas and half-built hotels. This is not my holiday destination of choice. But it's kind of fascinating anyway.

deep in thought

a day in saltdean

I had some time off last week, and spent it in the least interesting, but most psychologically valuable, way possible – doing nothing. I’ve not had a week off work in years (unless you count those when I’m moving house) so to have a few days of doing nothing was not so much a treat as a necessity. Funnily enough, I didn’t much enjoy it, finding it hard to really relax, but since I’ve been back at work this week I’ve been able to notice the difference. My concentration has improved, my spirits imperceptibly raised. So I’m glad I took a break.

On Saturday, though, I woke feeling like I’d wasted, rather than used wisely, my time, and decided to get out of Brighton. I’d toyed with getting up to London during the week but not done it, and felt that unless I did something I’d feel like an opportunity had been missed. So, glancing up approvingly at the blue sky, I jumped on a bus and made my way East along the Sussex coast, disembarking at the nearby town of Saltdean, intent on taking the air, and a few photographs.

Saltdean isn’t exactly a pretty town, but a characteristic of the English coast holds true; that there is something glorious about the feeling of sea air snapping at one’s neck in the summertime, and that the plainest of towns are immeasurably improved by a clear sky. Saltdean is actually, nominally, part of the city of Brighton and Hove, but really it started as an off-shoot of Rottingdean, the nearby town that was once home to Rudyard Kipling, and a key inspiration for the League of Gentlemen’s Royston Vasey. When Rottingdean’s population rose in the 1920s, the farm land of Saltdean was developed and the small town emerged.

It's not by any means without its charms; although the majority of buildings are poky and functional, there are some real oddities at the Southernmost tip, with kooky nods to Bauhaus and Cubism sandwiched next to suburban bungalows. It's most famous building is Saltdean Lido, a Grade 2 listed outdoor swimming pool which is a lovely, Art Deco landmark on the Sussex coast. It's listed status is no guarantee of its preservation, but it seems to be doing pretty well for itself, although it’s invariably empty when I pass it.

And along the coast in Saltdean is a lovely, small, pebbled beach and promenade, called the Undercliff walk. It was here that, for about four glorious hours, I simply sat on the sea wall and watched the water and the gulls swooping up over the cliffs, ‘til Dan joined me and we started leaning over to take photos of the waves, and got so comprehensively soaked by them that we had to retreat to Rottingdean and have a couple of pints as we dried off.