Coastal Crimes & Stories

 I’ve added something a little different to the blog. I was pleased to be involved with the exciting coal trucks installation near the beach in Saundersfoot This is a short illustrated story inspired by the installation and Saundersfoot’s coal-mining past and by the idea that places remember more than we think they do. It’s written for children — but like most good children’s stories, it’s really for anyone who enjoys history, imagination, and the quiet magic of familiar places. The story lives on its own Page, so it can be read slowly, just as it was meant to be. 👉 Read the story here:   James & The Time Tunnel.   If you’re local, you may recognise some of the details. If you’re not, I hope it still feels like somewhere worth visiting. If you enjoyed this, there are plenty more stories waiting — some lighter, some darker, all drawn from real moments and observations. If you’re new here, you can start with a few favourites on the “Start Here” page. New stories ...

  I’ve been writing quietly for a long time. Mostly for myself. Sometimes for friends. Often without any real sense of where the work might end up, beyond the satisfaction of finishing it and moving on to the next thing. This week, I did something different. I submitted a short story to a literary magazine for the first time. That might not sound like much, but it felt like an important step. Not because of the outcome — which is entirely out of my hands — but because of the process. I finished the story properly. I resisted the urge to keep tinkering. I read the submission guidelines carefully. I sent it off, and then I closed the file. There’s something quietly liberating about that. For years, I think I treated writing as something provisional — something I was always “working towards”. Submitting a piece forces you to accept that a story can be finished, even if it isn’t perfect. It asks you to trust the work enough to let it go. Whatever comes back — yes, no, or ...

  Christmas stories have their own rhythm. They belong to quiet evenings, soft lights, and moments when people are ready to slow down and listen. My story, The Man in the Moon and Santa’s List , arrived on Amazon on Christmas Day — just a little too late to find its moment. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful. Rather than tuck it away until next year, I wanted to share the opening chapter here as a small invitation into the world of the story. This is a gentle Christmas chapter book for children aged 7–9, about quiet kindness, trying your best, and adults who understand the difference between breaking rules and doing the right thing. Below is the first chapter. Chapter One — Santa Has a Bit of a Think Santa Claus was very busy. That was hardly surprising. Santa was always busy in December. The workshop hummed and clattered, elves zoomed past carrying boxes twice their size, and someone (probably Jingle-Toes) was practising the tuba again, even though Santa had polite...

  Author’s Note This essay began as a private reflection, written without an audience in mind. Revisiting it years later, I realised it traced something larger than photography alone: how learning to observe the world shaped the way I now approach storytelling. I have lightly edited the piece for clarity and flow, but the voice and events remain as they were lived. My Camera and Me The plan was to write an essay that, somewhere along the way, might be of interest to anyone with nothing better to do than read the story of how I became interested in photography — and how that interest developed into a passion. I do not profess to be motivated by any deep or meaningful quest to understand photography as an art form or its relationship with man’s subconscious urge for world domination. I just like taking photographs. Simple. Even now, when I capture a particularly good image, I still get a knot of excitement in my stomach. I have enjoyed teaching myself how to take a ...