London, 2013.
Ah, London. That infectious hive of continuous energy and buzz. Tall, steely buildings growing into the sky; solid, knowing their place and looking down as the city breathes life below. Everyone moving with a purpose, knowing where they need to go, which tube stop to get off at, which streets not to roam. Electric, organised chaos.
Zoom in on me: alone in the Big Smoke, wearing the wrong shoes and carrying far too many “city essentials” in my overly jazzy/trying-to-be-edgy backpack. After declaring myself sufficiently lost, and trailing the same three streets for what feels like hours in London’s sticky summer sun, I finally bumble through the main doors of The Cambridge Theatre with minutes to spare. The usher looks at me with that all-too-familiar disdain (theatre ushers of The World, I’m with you) as he waits for me to produce a rather crumpled ticket from the depths of my…
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A Bloke With A Camera 