Letter to my 15 year old self

I have been musing with the idea of writing a blog post about what I would say to my younger self for a while. It’s a scenario regularly visited by soaps and sitcoms when they run out of ideas but it poses an important notion; if you could change anything in your past what would it be? I was going to include a photo of me at 15 but hell no one needs to be put through that torture.

“In 20 years, you will be more disappointed by what you didn’t do than by what you did”   - Mark Twain

There are a few things I would tell my young self but one that has always plagued me was what would I do if I could change one decision I made in my past. One yes turned into a no, one left turned into a right. Mine would probably be to carry on acting; it is one thing I miss in my life now and I always wonder how far it could have gone. It would have more than likely turned into nothing but regret is a beast that eats away at undiscovered choices.

I would probably also tell my younger self to say no to eating that Chicken in Jaipur – that did not end well.

So my question to you is what choice would you go back and change? What would you tell your 15 year old self?

A not so social traveller

For those regular readers who have been wondering where James is and why he hasn't posted anything of late the answer is: I'm in India. I feel that it answers both of the questions! Anyway I am lucky enough to have an iPad and a decent internet connection so I thought I would post a small piece to keep you all amused. You troublesome lot, you!

 

Sadly though, it's not so much an amusing blog post but more of a grumpy old man piece.

 

As most of you know I regularly travel to India, as much as I can really. However, it has been two years since my last visit and while the mountains are the same and the brilliantly bonkers people are still here there has been a shift in the culture of travellers. Before, if you were travelling alone, you could walk into a restaurant or cafe and strike up a conversation with another fellow traveller over a chai or whatever your tipple is. Now you would struggle and the reason? Technology. I walked into a restaurant I have been going to for the last seven years were there would always be a little group of fellow travellers, a cacophony of different accents and now you only hear the technological click of buttons. I sat there sipping my hot Honey and Lemon (delicious by the way) feeling somewhat mournful as if something of our spirit of adventure had died. We were sat in the shadow of the Himalayas and as I sneakily walked around the customers I saw two people playing Angry Birds, one texting, another watching Homeland and at least ten people chatting on Facebook. People would rather be face down in a pile of Apps then witness the true majesty of nature. I drank my now slightly tainted drink and left, choosing to buy street food and chat to the shop owner then stare longingly at an apple logo.

 

I thought perhaps I am just being cynical and that it's not happening all over, but as I stared into each coffee house and restaurant along the road they were filled with people on their laptops, their iPads and phones. What a sad people we have become when rather than getting out there and experiencing incredible India we would still rather Instragram our lunch half way across the world. The hotel is the same, where once was a throng of people sat downstairs around the guitar, now they surround the wi-fi connection, like neanderthals around fire choosing to ignore the likes of me, dying to hear about their travels. Travelling is all about sharing experiences. So man next to me, please stop listening to Taylor Swift songs on Youtube and chat to me!

 

My 2012 – 12 months, 12 songs

It’s here!

My yearly ritual of posting twelve songs that have either defined or been the soundtrack to moments that have made my year has come around again. I have put some up with links to blog posts that are the reason they are up there so have a click on those underlined.

Thank you all for being such smashing readers, heres to another year of this!

Without further a do, here goes….

 

1. Amy Wadge – Paris

Had this in my head the whole time I was in Paris. Now it reminds me of my brief but brilliant trip to that wonderful city.

2. James Blake – Case of You

A Joni Mitchell cover that out of all of these songs I urge you to listen to as its quite simply beautiful. Reminds me of reading my book on Hampstead Heath in the bitter cold.

3. Florence and the Machine – No light, No light

It still hurts to think about that run!

4. Yungchen Lhamo – Ranzen

Listening to Tibetan music makes sure I never forget where my heart truly lies, back in India.

5. Missy Higgins – Whole of her new album

This was very much the soundtrack to choosing and preparing photographs for my first exhibition.

6. Elbow – First Steps

The official song for the BBC coverage of our Olympics.

7. Karima Francis - Wherever I go

A stunningly warm and emotive voice, saw her live at a music festival this summer. Well worth a listen!

8. Matt Corby – Brother

9. Ruth Notman – Roaming

Reminds me of the stupid amounts of train journeys I have taken this year!

10. Frank Sinatra – The Coffee Song

Possibly the most cheerful song in the world! Never has failed to caffeinate my spirits.

11. Ellie Goulding – Figure 8

A song that has kept me warm on many a long photography walk.

12. Landon Pigg – Falling in love at a Coffee Shop

A song that has been on a constant loop on many occasions. I love it not only because it has coffee in the title but how it reminds me how lucky I am.

 

 

 

My Desk – The 50,000th hit

I made a vow that when I got to 50,000 hits on this old thing I would post a photo of my desk as a way to say thank you to all you brilliant readers and so you could see where the magic happens. So here it is in all it’s, ummm, glory.

It is a literal manifestation of my brain; quite a bit bonkers, cluttered and full of useless thing. For the keener eyes in the house might notice some of the many weird and wonderful things that adorn my workspace.

Now I’ve shown you mine, you show me yours…

People Watching in the Rain

It’s my guilty pleasure and one that goes great with a huge cup of coffee.

When it rains I love nothing more than being in a warm coffee shop with a blistering hot cup in hand and a look of absolute smugness as I watch people dash from A to B with newspaper hats and unfurling umbrellas.

You imagine their lives and the thoughts flooding their head as the rain floods their shoes. As I am sat in a London coffee shop I can guess that most of their thoughts include, “Get out my way I am far more important than you”. Nonetheless, I thought I would share with you all a bit of prose to describe the truest of guilty pleasures; people watching.

I watch as the rain creates a distorted view outside, life altered while the heavens are open. Roads turn to rivers, people turn to snails leaving trails of water as the trudge through my -now filling- coffee shop and smiling people collecting money groan under the weight of their buckets filling with water instead of funds.

My bitter coffee slides effortlessly down my throat as a sprinting commuter slides on a greased paving slap, pulling off a perfect dismount from his self-respect. I smile wryly while the heat of my cup starts to penetrate my gloves, the warmth clearly preparing me for the heat of hell for this oh so guilty pleasure.

The legions of black suits and grey faces, bustle past one another regarding the weather with nonchalant distain. Eyes down they wade through their colleagues, a power-walking competition played out at every tube station. Black cab doors fly open as people flee the deluge and mark the cost down as a necessary expense.

But there are some, the unsuited civilians, who caffeinate my imagination better then the coffee flowing through my bloodstream could ever do. 

A couple pass hands clasp tightly, white knuckled, perhaps she is holding on for fear of letting go or, more likely, for the simple enjoyment of hurting the one she loves.

Two strangers share a lighter as they cower from the storm under a shop’s awning. A short sentence and a nod and they become strangers again, stood together.

A soaked man bimbles past. He walks with a swagger and a smile, all the while his clothes are becoming more water than material. Is he happy or crazy? It’s a fine line…

The rain has eased and my coffee drained. I gather my things and become a character in someone else’s window gazing. I wonder what they might think of me as my umbrella turns inside out.

Follow me Home

Why spell check is my favourite invention of all time

I love to write but I’m partially illiterate on the side.

Teachers, tutors and lectures alike sang from the same hymn sheet when it came to my grammar. That it was down to laziness, stupidity or –the best comment on an essay- “are you doing this to test my sanity?”

The wonders of dyslexia.

I can read over my work a myriad of times and while the errors may seem glaring to others, they seemed hidden to me. The obvious fades into oblivion when grammar is introduced. Even with someone leaning over my shoulder tutting away they would pass by me undetected like Where’s Wally at a knitted jumper convention.

Sometimes it helps cut the frustration of dyslexia if you can just find a way to laugh at your situation. Although who ever decided to call it dyslexia had a horrible sense of humour. I used to spell it Disexica but it sounds more like an erotic planet than a learning disability looking back at it now.

But whilst twenty something years have passed with my own personal enigma of English thwarting a well dressed sentence help is finally at hand. I call my grammatical saviour, my Punctuation Pirate.

I shouldn’t tease, as my pirate’s work has been crucial in the past whether it be essays, job applications or –yes- even blog posts.

After I’ve posted a blog post a few hours pass, then the phone call.

It begins with a sigh, a hushed swear word then the corrections commence. Thick and fast they come; the ‘I’ve told you about this a thousand times’ or the ‘I really don’t understand what this sentence means’ and the unsurprisingly echoes of my school years, ‘are you doing this to test my sanity?’

Dyslexia should not be something to be embarrassed about I struggle with grammar and spelling, always have and maybe always will. So to anyone else out there reading this; be proud of your dyslexia it can be hard and incredibly frustrating but you are never alone. We can’t all have our own pirates fighting our battles but smile at your silly mistakes and remember they are what make us human.

Art on the Streets of Paris #7

So my graffiti week has come to a close. I’ve given you all a glimpse into the beautiful and illegal art form. Now I want to hear or see your favourite pieces of graffiti, from a slogan scribbled on a bathroom door to billboard sized extravaganzas.

For my next few posts I will be going back to my roots, writing.

While my love is of course photography, my other love has always been writing and over the past year it has become a footnote in my life. Writing gave me jobs, gave me a purpose and most of all gave me a freedom incomparable to anything else. I recently surpassed 150 posts and for the next few weeks I’ll be heading back to how I and my blog began.

Art on the Streets of Paris #6

Art on the Streets of Paris #5