China Homeward Bound – XianJu to Shanghai, Shanghai to Beijing, Beijing to Roissy, Roissy to Nantes, Nantes to St Hilaire.


It’s a “long” title, and it was also a “long” journey. We left our hotel at 7 am on the 3rd of January, and I arrived home with feet under the table at 5 pm on the 4th of January. My mind is still on strike and the memories a little vague, but I’ll try and keep going for as long as possible.

Group 1, i.e. the other group, would be leaving at Terminal 1 in Shanghai, and Group 2, i.e. my group, would be leaving from Terminal 2 in Shanghai. There was a small and very select group that were going to do the “extension,” including my friend Eléonore. We managed to get our suitcases into the “system” at the airport check-in. And then through security, which, due to my sports jacket hack, went very smoothly. All we had to do then was to find somewhere for lunch. I had been in a group for the whole tour and headed off on my own to try and find something to eat.

I did find something to eat—tofu and crab, with a bowl of greens because it’s healthy! And a cup of tea was served with my meal. I spotted a hamburger place just next door to where I was eating and alerted the group via WhatsApp. I took my time eating because I could. I don’t like being rushed. Apart from getting onto the plane on time, my only task was to find a gift for my wife that would please her and, at the same time, be very Chinese. I bought tea. Because why not? And the shop looked very luxurious, and I was sure I couldn’t mess it up.

We flew from Shanghai to Beijing, and part I of our trip home was over.

The wait in Beijing seemed to go on forever, and our flight was at 2:40 am local time, which would mean a night flight back to Roissy. Beijing airport is a rather large place where most everything seems to shut at 5 pm. This was going to be a long wait. I resisted the temptation to go and have a “couple” of pints at a bar that was still open but still felt the need to have a drink of something. That something would be a bottle of water. We had our gate and waited for our flight to leave.

As you know, I can generally fall asleep anywhere and at any time. But even for me, this was going to be a tad tricky. I managed to charge my phone thanks to my colleagues and lay down on a bench to try and get some shut-eye. The sports jacket and jumper make a rather good pillow, and I felt slightly more invigorated when boarding the plane.

Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Anyway, I made my way to my seat, which was at the very back of the aircraft, and tried talking to my neighbour, who asked me if I spoke French. I did, and I could tell she had a plan, that girl. She wanted to be able to have two seats so she could lie down. I asked the hostess if those two empty seats were going to be available, and she took pity on me, saying that they were technically for crew and that if one of the crew asked, I would have to move back and sit with Miss Two Seats.

That sounded very fair, and Miss Two Seats seemed to be happy. I used the pillow for my back, and the blanket was just large enough to snuggle into. Did I sleep like a baby? No, he said, going for the understatement of the year award. No, he did not, but I think he at least managed to snooze, which was good enough. We had breakfast on the plane, which would be my last “Chinese” meal. Part II of our voyage was over.

We landed in Roissy and played everyone’s favourite game—go to the loo, and then on to baggage reclaim. The trombones had been put in with the suitcases and, of course, were the very last things to be put onto the conveyor belt. I have to admit to a rather tense moment when I was wondering if my suitcase would ever turn up. Eventually, it did, and we were reunited. The trombonists were soon reunited with their trombones, but it was all very stressful and a grand moment of solitude for them. We eventually found what we thought was the exit, turned around because it wasn’t the exit, and headed off to another exit to meet our colleagues in Group 1, who had arrived a wee while before us. We were herded along, with Mathilde and Titaua helping us cross the road. You’ve guessed it—we got on the bus, except this bus would be taking us back to Nantes. Part III of our voyage had begun.

My memory was still hazy, and I think we stopped off in the Perche—the place, not the fish, but maybe they had them in the local rivers. I’m not here to judge. We all traipsed into the service station and were greeted by the overpriced sandwiches. Not a chicken foot in sight. It all felt such an anticlimax after the food in China.

We arrived eventually where we had set off from in Nantes. Part III of our voyage was nearly over. Kate and Virginie were there to pick me up, and that hug was particularly tight and lasted quite a while—or so it seemed. Had I missed my family? I will say yes, of course. It will save us many arguments at home!

Part IV of the trip had begun. My wife drove us home through the rain. I entered the house that I had left two weeks earlier. I had been on tour, I had seen things that I had never seen before, I had eaten things that I had never eaten before, and I even managed to save my special Christmas chocolates from the inquisitive looks from the two women in my life. Killian wasn’t there, so Kate had first dibs on which mug she would like. The chopsticks were put away. Tea was made, and the day ended up at home. I was a little tired…

China – Hangzhou to Shao Xing


New Year’s Day

I am glad to report that today was a lot more successful than the day before.  New Year, New Me?  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.  After a good night’s sleep, I was feeling almost human and Corentin explained last night’s quid pro quo.  Phones without batteries, people calling me and I must have been on “do not disturb mode.’  The girls asked why I hadn’t called them too, as they would have said where they were.  Look, it’s fine.  It doesn’t matter, except it did matter, but there was nothing I could do about it.  Can’t change the past, it’s too late, can’t change the future, it hasn’t happened yet, so live in the present moment.  Probably a better idea to try and make the best of the day as humanly possible.

Today’s trip by bus, leaving at midday, was a welcome change. The next town was only 40 miles away, which made the journey feel entirely manageable—and, more importantly, it gave me the time I needed to move my little booty and try and find something for Kilian.  He had asked me for cooking chopsticks and I thought I would bring back some nicer model like the ones we had been using in restaurants during the trip.  Corentin told me about his visit to the market just down the road, and gave me directions that even I could follow.  With my suitcase packed I was off camera in hand, and with a sense of renewed confidence.

On the way I crossed paths with Anne, one of the percussionists who wanted to go and get some Chinese bowls like the ones we had been using in the restaurants but knew exactly what she was after.  So off we both went to the market.  I’m going to use a phrase that I used on Foshan.  A “joyeux bordel!”  The market was on the ground floor of a building that rose about as high as our expectations.  So pretty high.  As you will see in the photos there was stuff everywhere and each shop looked as if it morphed into the next one.  If you had ever wanted to start a restaurant business, they could cater for every single one of your needs.  They had stoves, kitchen tools, woks of all shapes and sizes, cookers designed specifically for woks.  All kinds of crockery to put said food into and serve it to your guests.  I could hardly believe my eyes.  You could buy sound systems, display cabinets, even those electric Mahjong tables that we saw in Shenzhen.  It was extraordinary, and it was full of people buying and selling.  Everyone back home always decries the made in China, but over 1billion people be wrong?  I was very impressed by the whole thing, and seeing things that we  I thought of my son straight away who, like me, is a bit of a foodie and who loves cooking.  All we really need is somebody who loves doing the washing up afterwards and we’d be onto a winner…

We both managed to find what we were looking for so all in all today was turning out much better than the previous night’s fiasco.  This success and eventual pleasing my son just put me in a positive mood for the day.  I got back to the hotel room to pick up my case and instrument and stow away my latest additions to the family cooking utensils.  And it was sunny ,and it was a relief to feel something fresh, something clear. What more could you ask for? It felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

The change in mood from the night before was undeniable—subtle but meaningful. After a rough start, today was a quiet triumph. Finding the market, picking out those perfect cooking chopsticks for Kilian, and stepping into the sunshine felt like small victories, but they added up to something more significant. It wasn’t a grand transformation, but it was enough to shift my outlook for the day.

New Year, new me? Maybe. But I’m taking things one step at a time. For now, I’ll settle for the fact that, for once, things felt a little more bearable. And in a world that so often feels overwhelming, that, in itself, is enough. Sometimes it’s the smallest wins—the unexpected moments of clarity—that make the biggest difference.

As the bus carried us to the next town, I didn’t know what the rest of the day would bring. But, for once, there was a quiet sense of relief—small steps that didn’t feel like setbacks. It wasn’t a grand victory, but for today, it was enough. Sometimes, it’s the smallest wins that make all the difference.

China – Shenzhen day 4 – Shenzhen to Huizhou to Shenzhen.


Today, we were giving a concert in Huizhou (clue in the title, as always) and needed to be ready for the buses at 10 a.m.—a thoroughly civilised hour for a gentleman like myself. The journey would take us about 90 kilometres, another day of life on tour spent bussing around. Victor, the oboe player, kindly put my suit in his suiter, leaving me to carry only my instrument and camera. What a pleasant young man. As people drifted down from their respective floors, we gathered in the hotel lobby, a mix of sleepy faces and quiet anticipation. 

Off we went. Was I with the young, trendy crowd today? Not at all. Always leave them wanting more. Instead, I decided to spend the day with my “girlies” from my Cholet days—Eléonore, Titaua, and Mathilde—along with Catherine, another first violin. It was a calmer group, slightly olde9r than the twenty-somethings at the back, which suited me just fine.

Once underway, we learned our first stop would be a lake before heading to the evening’s venue. A leisurely stroll around a lake? I wasn’t thrilled at the idea. Am I coming across as a misanthrope? Moi? Really? But when we arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. The lake, surrounded by hazy sunshine, was breathtaking—quintessentially Chinese with pagodas, temples, and bamboo groves. The entrance gate itself was a work of art: a grey, ornate roof atop white columns, with traditional calligraphy adorning the sign above. It was beautiful, and I felt unexpectedly happy to be there. 

The walk would be leisurely, which was ideal for me. The trees and bamboo offered some welcome shade and acted as a diffuser for my photographs, and I knew this was definitely going to be a good day. I saw our friends’ Chinese boyfriend and Chinese girlfriend going through the same rigmarole as they had in Shenzhen’s Window on the World, which I still find amusing! 

There were groups of Aunties and Uncles, as the Chinese call older people, sitting on benches looking out across the lake at various pagodas and temples. It was one of those places that breathes calm. I like calm. 

I sat down to join the girls for lunch, but I had already eaten, yet they insisted I partake of their picnic, which I did with pleasure. They really are good to Uncle Ian. They joked about hiring a pedalo and going around the lake. Mathilde’s foot was hurting her, so we decided to take the shorter walk back to our rendezvous point, letting Eléonore and Catherine explore the long way round. We even joked about hiring one of the electric golf cart-type buggies to get around. You may have noticed that I haven’t talked about selfies yet.

 Well, at the table behind was an Uncle and Auntie who wanted to take a selfie with us—first it was the two uncles together, then everyone! I was getting a taste for all this. The attention is definitely validating and made us feel amazing. Yes, made me feel very special, especially when you see their smiles. It’s not like being adulated by adoring fans, but more like appreciating and celebrating your presence in China. It is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life. 

We crossed the lake using the walkway and going through the decorated walkway with its traditional Chinese style. Everything felt Chinese, but in a more classical way. The architecture, the building styles, the plants—even with the bamboo being a feature—as well as the white hump-backed bridges. I was having a special moment with Mathilde and Titaua as we gently made our way back to the bus, and even though it wasn’t the scenic route, you could be mistaken for believing it was. The views were amazing… 

Taking in the light coming through the trees, and sparkling on the water. It was beautiful, and I was so happy to be there amongst longtime friends. Titaua moved on ahead, and I stayed to accompany Mathilde and her bad foot. 

She had put on a brave face the day before, chasing around Shenzhen with the girls. It had gotten so bad that Titaua had to accompany her back to the hotel in a taxi. She didn’t want to put anyone out, and I found myself seeing her in a new light. Maybe that’s what this tour was really about—seeing people in a new light and discovering facets of them you’d never noticed before. When you’re on tour, the masks we all wear tend to slip, and the inner person shines through. It’s human nature to put on a front—I’m certainly guilty of it, especially with my own ongoing struggles with mental health. But during the tour, I felt I could let that mask drop. It was liberating in a way I didn’t quite expect. 

Back at the rendezvous, I was captivated by a coconut and sugarcane juice stall—a moped with a shop grafted onto its back. I didn’t partake but saw how the backlit scene looked very poetic and couldn’t resist taking a picture. I’m glad I did. 

The younger crowd soon returned, with Corentin (aka Sir Fanny Magnet) and Paul (“Duck Tongue” Trouillet) basking in their fan club’s adoration. 

Another selfie session ensued with the younger crowd having selfies with the young Chinese crowd. Corentin, aka Sir Fanny Magnet, and Paul “the Duck Tongue” Trouillet had obviously told their fan club of their imminent arrival. But unexpectedly, that same younger Chinese crowd came up to me asking very shyly if they could have photos with me. I don’t know if it was the Uncle Ian legendary charm or the Father Christmas effect; it certainly left me feeling even more wonderful!

Yes, I think you might have guessed by now, but it was back onto the buses, and off to the venue. I had certainly been inspired for this concert by the kindness and bienveillance of the local population. I would have to make this a performance to remember. And indeed, it was!

The UK Chronicles, Part V: Rothbury to Hepple


Do you have a place, be it real or imaginary, that just haunts your mind?  You think of it, and you are transported there instantly.  The smells of the grass, the sounds of the river, and the odd car driving past you wondering what the heck you are doing?  Hepple is my special place.  It is a place where I feel at peace and that all is right with the world.

I’m thinking back to an article I wrote a couple of years ago called Hepple for Photos, Not Gin. I was with my father and had my Canon 6D Mark II with the 16-35mm F4.0 lens and the 70-300mm zoom lens. This year, however, I had my X100F with just the 35mm f2.0 equivalent lens, and I was with Killian, who, surprisingly, was a little tired and decided to curl up on the back seat for a snooze. His loss…

This is the place, this stretch of road, that I have been looking forward to for 2 years. The weather was clement, and I can assure you that the place is still as beautiful as ever. I wasn’t going to have the choice of lenses this time; I would have to see the scene in 35mm and make do with it. No zooming, no switching lenses—just a little constraint. And you know what? I was fine with that!

The lack of zooming and my sleeping son allowed me to walk around the area a little more, exploring under the tree at the end of the road and at the bottom of the hill.  These were views that I had not seen before.  It only goes to show that we might think we know a place, even in our memories, but it still has so much more to offer us.

I parked just before the bridge, as I usually do. Everything was still in place: the stiles, the trees, the river—just as I had pictured it in my mind. It’s when looking at the countryside like this that I am convinced there is a creator behind all this creation. The beauty of it didn’t just happen by chance.

The noises were made by the flowing of the river and the breeze in the trees.  I had this feeling of calm.  I could take photos of that place every day and not get tired of it all.  I might even go so far as to say I could have died here and died a happy death.  I had found my peace.

Killian had found his peace too and was still asleep in the car.  A micro sieste, he said.  He might be 25, but he reminded me of the small boy who was once my son. 

I can’t be the only person on this earth to feel this?

The Opening of the Film Archives – Nantes November 2016


Following our last trip to Carnac, the film archive now has a look at Nantes in the autumn of 2016. These photos offer a glimpse into how I approached photographing a city back then, and if I’m being totally honest with you, still do. I treat the city much like a model on a photoshoot. The goal is to capture not just the physical landscape, but the essence and atmosphere of a place, allowing viewers to get a feel for the city simply by looking at the images. In this series of pictures, Nantes reveals herself and her architecture, resplendent in the autumnal sunshine.

Over time, I have come to know the city and appreciate her architecture. Buildings are not only a reflection of the architect but also of the people who live in them. They add character to the city, allowing her personality to shine through.  I enjoy looking at the lines, and the shapes of them.  They inspire me.  They tell the story of the people who, either work, or live in them.  They are not just mere edifices.  

You will notice as we go through the archives, I might not respect the timeline slavishly. My aim is to give you an aperçu of my world at the time through film. I know you will be able to take this affront in your stride and not hate me!

We’ll go from the bains douches municipales, through to the Sainte Croix church, to the Stalinian 1950’s architecture of the Social Security building, passing by the odd shop, Hausmanian architecture, and even a shot looking towards the Cathedral.