That's me, back in 1991, walking and cycling from Perth, across the vast expanse of nothingness in to Townsville, Australia. The idea came after a spell in Africa which ended in near disaster. It was also cheaper than taking the plane. Article and photographs of the journey got published by GEO.
Then there was Thailand, Sri Lanka and India, Indonesia, photographing in analogue for the sake of memories, and dead time in London working nine to five, saving for the next great escape.
Inspired by Annie Proux's Shipping News I moved to Cornwall. It wasn't quite the eventful life of Quoile but it gave me time to think of what I really wanted and this was heading south, back to middle earth.
One day I picked up a book and fell in love with a city. The journey started in Barcelona, a labyrinth with a million tales. But a metropolis swallows you alive so I used google maps and found Tarragona instead.
Tarragona faces the Mediterranean, with Barcelona on the east, the worn out ranges of the Priorat and Monsant in the north (well, roughly) and, in the west, the biggest fume belching refinery in the whole of Spain.
It is also an platform for collective unity and inventiveness which moves in clock wise motion through the year; it starts with the the Carnival followed up by the doom laden procession of Easter Friday, the celebration of Roman past in Tarraco Viva, fireworks on the beach, human castles, the great water soak of Sant Magí, and ends up with the cacophonic finale of Santa Tecla.
In between there are details, so dazzling rich, life turns into technicolor.
All these visual emotions end up in tarragonablog.com , a blog of photographic annotations of the life of the city which is now my home.