bicycle
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Meet Me By The Water Tower
Anyone who has followed this blog for a while will know that for over a decade I’ve ridden along the coast from Brighton where I live to Newhaven to hop on the ferry to Dieppe and cycle on quiet roads and eat good pastries. Water towers are a recurring motif across the northern France landscape…
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Ride ‘zines
Recently I’ve made a handful of ‘zines based on bike rides over the years. The Picos and Nyhavn first appeared on this blog but I’ve edited or re-written the text extensively. All of them are A6 folded booklets that unfold to A3 with maps, photos and/or words on the reverse side. Full colour digital print…
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Glimpses
Solstice ride in Normandy. 243km, a Holga and a single roll of 120 film. Playing with ideas for a set of screenprints or maybe another book.
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The shortest straightest line rarely beckons
There’s a stream that runs by the office where I work. The Winterbourne, its name a clue. It runs high and fast when the South Downs saturate and the chalk aquifers deep inside overflow. It’s an indicator of conditions on the Downs and it helps me decide my cycle commute. The office is in Lewes,…
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twelve
Ker-clunk. Twenty fourth stamp in my passport and waved straight onto the ferry. I pick up my phone from the floor next to my inflatable pillow. It’s 02:38. Is that French time or UK time? Oh hang on, phone isn’t displaying home and away times, it must be UK time. Open Google Maps, blue dot…
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ten
The bow ramp clangs onto the slipway, or maybe the stern, it’s difficult to tell with the symmetry of the ferry, depositing me behind the Seine. Vanishing points strobe in the sunshine, a zoetrope flicker, rows of netted fruit trees pulling my eyes back to the river and the silver-white rock walls swathed in woodland…
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nine
Swallows and martins angle and glide overhead on the causse, moss slowly smothers crumbling chalk walls. The sacred city cascades down cliffs. I slip into the other canyon, the one behind where the l’Ouysse river appears from under the limestone. Skim the edge of the Dordogne, the road wedged up against leaning rock walls. Across…
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eight
Hop off the tram next to where the shiny brightly coloured logo splattered buses are parked up. Fans milling about as mechanics fettle. Expensive carbon fibre and fancy paint jobs reflect in windscreens. Accreditation badges hang round necks, television cameras sit on shoulders, microphones clutched in hands. Lotte Kopecky chats to a television crew before…
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six
A strong tide pushed the ferry sideways up the channel last night, it docks later than usual. Through passport control a few minutes after 6am. Cinema ticket booked for 6pm. Two hundred kilometres, twelve hours. Or eleven if I want to wash and lie on a hotel bed for a bit first. Up on the…
the man from icon 