Retreat Words and pictures: Malcolm Anderson I sleepwalk into retreat. Dorset my silent shield. My cloak of comforting dark shadow. Steaming mugs of tea the colour of freshly ploughed fields served in chipped mugs from the kiosk on West Bay promenade.
The Search. Words and pictures: Malcolm Anderson. Finding a house, any house at all, has proven to be far more difficult than I could possibly have imagined this time round. It has drained me physically and emotionally; living from a suitcase again has the well worn blanket of solitude slipping once more around my shoulders. […]
Points On a Compass Words and pictures: Malcolm Anderson An early start from Winchester this morning. Joe’s uniform is cleaned, ironed and a sleepy eleven year old is dragged from his bed, fed, watered and bundled into the car. For a second I think about putting him in the boot and having the dog up […]
April Showers. Words and pictures by Malcolm Anderson. The sky is dark as week old tarmac as I reach the top of the Yew lined track above Winchester, the bustle of city life long forgotten behind me. The first rumble of thunder is faint, miles away across the dry chalk landscape but I’ve got a […]
Picking up the pieces. Words and pictures by Malcolm Anderson. Eighty square feet – Eight feet by ten. That’s what my world has been packed down in to. Following the evacuation of Drove Cottage my stuff has been boxed, bagged and piled high into the battleship grey metal container on a gritty faceless industrial estate […]