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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Here’s the first post of a continuing series - hopefully. These are the photos I take around and about with no clear directive in mind. Like written notes, I think of them as visual notes.

The sun warms my face while shallow waves lap the shore. The bottle of cold beer I reach for is sweating small beads of condensation as it sits on a table under the dappled shade of a palm tree.

When I first started writing this a week ago, the rain was hammering down in vertical sheets filling the house with a dark and gloomy atmosphere. Looking out of the window today the sun is bright, the sky blue and I can see the snow capping the mountains just beyond. 

Pool, puddles and jumping. Here’s one of my favourite family photos. Looking at it again ten years later, I find myself on a thought journey about photography and creativity.

Memories can be slippery devils. They swim around my brain, waiting for a moment of capture, the moment when I need to reel one into my conscious mind to muse over.

In 2014 my husband and I went on a trip to Iceland. We were excited to have some time to ourselves while our two children aged 9 and 7 at the time, spent the weekend with family.

The other morning when I walked the trail, I ended up walking in the other direction. I tend to walk the same trail most days. It's easy, it's near my house and it's beautiful. To change things up a bit, I sometimes decide to walk starting from the other direction. It's strangely discombobulating.

In researching an old family photograph, Tanya discovers a story of emigration from the north of England to Port Adelaide in South Australia in 1853.

Many years ago, I was studying for a diploma in General Art and Design at an art school on the blustery, freezing-cold coast of North Norfolk. Part of our studies in, the first year, involved a module in photography.

Photographs from an old Kodak instamatic camera stir up memories and stories from the 1980s.

Your family photos are mini-portals in time pushing you forwards, backward and sideways in your mind.

Photographs from your family archive are a great way to access a memory or discover a story. To make the story feel real get right into all the details.