Darkness. Silence. Closeness. At the centre of the circle: eyes piercing blue, hair wiry grey, cloak fraying and lyre clutched tight. The bard. Teller of tales, conjurer of worlds. Slowly, calmly, he looks into each expectant face, wide eyes made sparkling and skin...

At the bottom of my road, past the BP garage, dancing through gaps in the rumbling traffic, was the sea. I would pound past, one foot slapping the concrete promenade, the other balancing the board. Nose red and streaming, eyes watering, wheels hissing, sea and beach...

Hi *|FNAME|*, The stalls in church were old. Moisture, sunlight and time had worked their way in, making cracks that sounded the alert to the adults sat behind. Little hope of success for a choir boy up to no good in those stalls. Keeping occupied during sermon after...

The day in Istanbul begins in watercolours. Peach fingers uncurling, painting away the grey and blue of the night before. The first fishermen can be heard calling to each other. From the many hills diving into the sea, the call to prayer emerges. The sounds are...

The blue at the heart of Lake Baikal is virtually black. As it should be - Baikal is the deepest lake in the world. Growing at a few centimetres a year, it will one day cut Europe and Asia clean in two. Nestled in the curve of the lake is Listvyanka. The houses...