Over the last few weekends, I’ve been for a few walks with family, to the woods. It’s a great time of the year for it. At this time of year he low golden sun comes through the trees in the late afternoon and creates a fleeting magic.

The days when we used to rely on phone boxes seems a world away now. It’s almost as if we always had a phone in our pocket or bag. Rely on them we did though. When I was at University, every public phone seemed to have it’s own permanent queue of homesick students on an evening, waiting to call home.

I don’t think that there is anywhere in the world that I feel more comfortable than in Paris. I sometimes feel as though it’s my spiritual home. From my first visit, on a school trip at the age of 14 or 15 I’ve felt an affinity with the city. More than anywhere else I’ve ever visited, I feel at home just walking the streets and taking photographs.

You can’t beat a family escape for a long weekend. It’s been a while since we’d been to London so we jumped on a train at York and a couple of hours and a small fortune later, we were at Kings Cross. We had no plan, other than the Natural History Museum, which is a given in our household. Other than that, we roamed the streets.

Once upon I time, I used to live just outside Middlesbrough, in Great Ayton.  Growing up in the countryside, Middlesbrough was my first real experience of a decent sized town.  It’s where our first ‘nights out’ were. 

Through the eyes of a load of country-grown teenagers, Middlesbrough seemed impressive. And then I spread my wings & saw the world.  

After realising that we’d never been to Cleethorpes, we decided one weekend to give it a try. It’s pretty much what you’d expect from a seaside town. All the boxes were ticked: Pier, fish & chip shops, sugary junk food shops, donkeys on the beach & even a Hook a Duck stall.