Writing

"In the poppy’s softly glowing petals and the Skylark’s joyful verses, there is a poetry that speaks in nature’s perfect language what is impossible to describe with words."

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After midnight

It’s unusual to be somewhere without any artificial lights. Somewhere where the darkness is heavy and deep. Somewhere where the only glimmers of light are the soft sheaths of moonlight, and the quiet smiles of the stars. That is ancient light, so distant that it has taken millions of years to reach this forest.

All around the night is silent, waiting.

Skylark

An English meadow. The afternoon is warm and clear, and the sky soars with all the heat of summer. A few timid white clouds scuff the horizon, where the deep oceanic blue above melts into a pale, distant turquoise. Sitting here, it is as if time has slowed down, intoxicated by the heat and light.

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Published articles

The above writing is taken from some draft material for a book idea I worked on during lockdown. There are some published articles by/about me too, for example:

British Trust for Ornithology Young Birders Blog:

The British Patch | BTO - British Trust for Ornithology 

An article about me by Lancaster University:

Protecting wildlife through film | Lancaster University

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Homecoming

Dubai Airport. 3am. Outside air temperature 38 degrees C.

We’ve arrived at night, but night has not dampened the heat. Not here. Not in midsummer. It’s a thick, heavy heat. The darkness is laced with it. All along the horizon, the myriad lights of Dubai twinkle like stars in the Arabian night.