There's a rap on the door. It's Caroline the architect - I'm still in my orrery. I exit the van via the rear door and hand her a rainbow baton we found earlier in the Orangery - left over from a wedding at the weekend. The tailgate hisses as it rises. I feel like Major Tom exiting an air lock.
As I walk along the paving, I can hear their bikes whining. Then there’s a shout behind me, but before I get a chance to turn around, I’m subject to an act of simultaneous aggression.
Welcome! I’m an architectural photographer. On my van-life travels through the British Isles I’m building up a word and photo-hoard of material culture that celebrates our built heritage and contributes to a sense of place.My van is my time-machine, it gives me fresh perspectives on our remarkab
"Take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder and sieve it through the finest sieve and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy." Terry Pratchett