Cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease

Bambou came to visit me in London, a week before I got the train straight back over to Paris to visit her and Susy in the blazing sunlight of summer come early. In London we walked all over the city, took a taxi from the Palace, picked out our future furnishings in Liberty's, and ate a cooked breakfast on the terrace overlooking the Hyde Park lake. We drank coffees on Portobello Road, where we saw a man with a dog sitting on his shoulder as if it were a parrot, and Bambou got excited at being addressed as a 'lady'. In Paris we spent evenings at the canal and days drinking grenadine in the heat, wandered around yard sales in the sun and drank beers on benches, planning more pictures to take and picnics that we never had time for.

All her paths are peace

This is a collection of some of the images I've taken and styled over the last two years since I started this site. Going through it all felt like going through a huge box of photographs, and took longer than it should really have done, as each one set off thoughts of the past and of days to come.

He has broken down the middle wall of partition between us

These are few pictures from a series I took for the second issue of Hot & Cool - mine, Alice's and Letty's magazine - but my camera didn't work properly on the day and most of the pictures came out far too dark, so we ended up going with a different series. I do like some of the ones that did come out from this one though - Alice and I had been planning it for a long time, as we have so much matching clothing. It was really fun to shoot, on one of the first spring days of the year with the sun coming through the windows.

They have turned them away on the mountains

At the end of the Easter term we drove from Cambridge to Yorkshire - passing Godmanchester, Retford and Thirsk along the way - for a weekend of picnics in the wind and bottles of ale drunk beside the sea. We climbed over stiles and waded through expanses of heather, lost our way on the map, and retreated in the cold to pubs to read the papers and have endless debates that always seemed to escalate into argument, with all of us refusing to back down. On Sunday we drove to Whitby, happening to coincide with the biannual goth festival there, which was both horrifying and very funny. On the final evening we ate spaghetti and drank whisky in front of Withnail and I, which after the weekend of comically bad picnic weather and lost routes felt appropriate.

Like snow in summer

I just found these pictures from a couple of summers ago, when I went away to France with Alfie and his family. We swam in the river, cycled across fields, and drove to flea markets early in the morning. I also remember that we went to a pizza restaurant that had a pool outside to swim in while they made up your order - this was so great. I went a couple of years running, so memories start to run into each other, but I loved the house full of crockery gathered over the years, the steep cycle into the tiny neighbouring village, and the bread we'd dip into hot chocolate in the mornings.