Some more photos from Cornwall

Hello everyone. Hope you’ve had a good start to the week. I’m gulping down coffee, desperately trying to re-start my brain after the weekend. I spent Saturday and Sunday at Spitalfields with Gerry, selling t-shirts when he was doing the art market.

The market is fun, but exhausting. People come and go, you’re focused, you talk a lot, you look, you listen. In some ways selling is not so different from journalism. All you have to do is look people in the eyes when you talk to them. But after two days of standing up and talking I’m pretty exhausted, which is why I’m gulping down my second mug of black coffee. I’m trying to sharpen my mind enough to send off a radio story about the day’s biggest news story. I think I’m slowly winning the battle. I’m definitely caffeinated.

But I’m still a bit too woolly-brained to write a proper blog post. Which is why I will leave you with some more photos of lovely Cornwall. This is St Agnes, one of the cutest places I’ve visited in the UK.

st agnes


st agnes



st agnes

st agnes flowers


st agnes



st agnes


st agnes cliffs



Autumn in Orkney – the land of the vikings (sort of)


For our honeymoon Gerry and I went to the Orkney islands north of Scotland. I’ve dreamed about travelling there since I was a teenager. There is something fascinating about these far-away islands. They belonged to Norway for a longer period of time than they’ve belonged to the UK. And the islands are full of magical little clues that ancient people left behind, old burial mounds, runes, stone circles and stone age settlements.

Being there was amazing. We spent our days walking and exploring and taking many, many photos of sea-birds. Sometimes I miss the smell of clean sea air, the sound of waves and sea-gulls outside the window. I start looking up houses to rent on Orkney and dream about writing in a little room in a house on one of the tiny streets in Stromness, wrapped up in many layers of sweaters and looking out over the harbour. Stromness with its cats in every corner and many little art galleries. Gerry could have a studio with lots of fantastic light. We could live cheaply and happily. Then I shake myself awake and remember how far away these islands are and how difficult it would be to live there. How the only way to get anywhere is either by taking a small and expensive bumpy flight or a slow ferry that takes you to the middle of nowhere in northern Scotland. Family would be far away, the food would be expensive because everything has to be shipped in and all the real Orcadians might not warm to new-comers straight away. The holiday glow would slowly fade and real life would face us on Orkney as well.

Yet. I read about Swedish photographer Gunnie Moberg who created a life for herself on Orkney and I day-dream.