We all come in one at a time, nervous, clutching at folders and laptops — this is our first critique. It's the Autumn of 2011 and a collection of students, myself among them, sit in a tutorial room in the London College of Communication. We are about to embark on a part-time MA in Photography.

I was surprised to learn that the colour pink was considered a masculine shade in English society a century or more ago.

My daughter tells me to get to the bus-stop ten minutes early. The bus-stop is less than a minute walk from our house. If the bus arrives early it never waits. If you’re early, the bus will be late. Ahhh…c’est la vie.

Last year, we took a big three-week trip to Europe to visit family and friends. We spent a few days in Scotland, more days in England and then ten more days in Italy, where we'd all wanted to visit for a long time — us and everyone else in the world.

It's warm. The sun casts short, deep shadows in the crisp sand and a thick white foam is gathering on the beach.

I've been in a tussle this past week with the weather, the lawn and my distracted self. The weather, I can't control. It's rained and rained, then rained some more. But this is the Pacific Northwest, known for its temperate rainforest — it's only to be expected.

I've been giving this question some deep thought. Some might say this is a dangerous thing. I'm not planning on giving up writing on my website anytime soon but I am seeing an awful lot of articles wielding a heavy death knell over blogging.

Often, when out and about making photographs, the first thing I’m attracted to is the type of light, whether the soft haze of a foggy day or the sharp shadows of a midday summer sun. It’s perhaps bordering on an obsession but its been this way for a long time.

I woke up the other morning with thoughts in my head. Typically I was articulate and meaningful in those early sleepy moments. Now I can't remember a thing.

When my husband said last week that a severe geomagnetic storm was heading our way promising the very real possibility of seeing the auroras, I was sceptical. We've been down this road before - quite literally.

On Sunday, it's Mother's Day here in Canada. When I moved to this beautiful country with my family in 2017, my mum visited a couple of months later, keen to help me and my family settle into our new home.

Not too much writing today but lots of photographs taken on a trip to the captivating Hawaiian island of Kauai in February. I deliberated for some time over which camera to take. I don’t know any photographer who owns just the one camera.

I can be a terrible procrastinator. Monday comes around, as it does every week, and I sit scrolling through my photographs looking for the next one for a writing prompt. Usually, I can select one with ease. Not because I think all my pictures are amazing, far from it.

It's official. I am now a Canadian citizen! The scheduled date for the in-person citizenship ceremony clashed with the day I arrived in Australia with my sister for a two-week trip to visit family. I received an email for a new date for the ceremony via Zoom. Not the same thing at all.

Finding our authentic self is a lifelong process trying to ignore societal judgements and embracing our multifaceted identities. Here are some thoughts for anyone navigating life’s complexities.

There’s a man, an angry man, older, not from here. He hates it when we park here — park at the back of his shop. Sometimes we sit longer than we should, waiting for our children — blocking the spaces for customers. Most of the time, we try to be quick. Five minutes max. That’s what’s been asked of us.

M is for: mingle, mangle, mad, mongoose, made, make, mock, millipede, mother, mum, minute, margarita, microphone, moisture, McDonalds, myth, magic…

When I was very young I only ever wore dresses. Not skirts. Dresses. I can still remember some of them. At least I think I can. There was the short, purple, flowery one with long sleeves that I loved to wear when I was about 3 years old.

Remembering the last house my grandmother lived in, a house that fitted into an awkward corner made by two roads in a town by the sea on the North Norfolk coast.

A series of photos from an exposed but forgotten roll of film I found rolling around in a drawer.