It’s been a couple of months since I wrote anything here.

I haven’t disappeared. I’ve been working on new projects, travelling, thinking, listening and perhaps most importantly, slowing down.

Over the last couple of months I’ve travelled through Poland, Wales, the North York Moors and returned again and again to the Purbeck coast.

I’m beginning to realise that travelling somewhere isn’t really what interests me. It’s witnessing it.

Slowing down enough to notice the things that are easily missed.

The changing light on a hillside. An old building with no obvious story attached to it. Weather moving across the sea. A forgotten path. The remains of something that once had a purpose. The sound of a place when nobody else is around.

Things that most people probably walk straight past.

There is something about stopping and looking properly that changes a place. Sometimes I photograph it. Sometimes I film it. Sometimes I research what I’ve found when I get home. And occasionally a place stays with me long enough that it eventually finds its way into the music.

That has increasingly become what this website is about.

I’ve also started to think about creative work as something that happens in seasons.

Some seasons are intensely engaging and productive. Ideas arrive easily, projects seem to lead naturally into other projects and there is an urgency to make things.

Other seasons are quieter.

Life takes over. Creativity moves into the background and perhaps becomes more about observing, thinking and collecting experiences than actually producing anything.

I don’t see those quieter periods as creative failures anymore. They are part of the process. You can’t constantly produce meaningful work without occasionally stopping to experience the things that eventually give that work meaning.

Perhaps the last couple of months have been one of those seasons.

This is becoming less of a website that I feel I need to constantly update and more of an archive.

Places. Music. Photographs. Films. Journeys. Small observations.

Evidence that I was there and that, for a little while, I stopped and paid attention.

I’ve also been working quietly on new projects and finding my way to evolve musically and creatively . I’m interested in creating something more atmospheric now — music with space in it, long reverbs, ambient guitar, exposed vocals and the imperfections left intact. My past continues to have a legacy and at times dominates  my mind. My creative work is a reflection of that at times..

I want the sound to feel like the landscapes I’m documenting. The landscape and location become a character 

in their own right.

I think slowing down is part of the point.

Creativity has its seasons. I’m learning not to fight them.

And there is an extraordinary amount happening around us when we stop long enough to notice it.

Getting as far away from noisy busy life it so important to me. To ground myself, regulate my mind in an

increasingly demanding and volatile society. 

July began somewhere above Europe.

At 30,000 feet, most of the aircraft was asleep. I wasn't. Flying has become something very different for me over the years, and so I did what I often do when my mind becomes too loud. I opened my journal and began to write.

Sometimes putting a pen on paper gives the mind somewhere else to go.

We were travelling to a tiny village in eastern Poland, not far from the Ukrainian border. Beyond Lublin there would be another two hours by road, through countryside I had never seen before.

I had been thinking about what I wanted from this trip. It wasn't really the obvious things.

I wanted to see the old lady hanging her washing outside. Small roadside chapels. Grass moving in the wind. Fields disappearing towards the horizon. The ordinary things that people drive past because they are trying to get somewhere else.

Perhaps I needed ordinary things.

Life at home had felt increasingly complicated, and I had reached something of a crossroads. Poland gave me the opportunity to stand outside my own life for a few days and look back at it from somewhere else.

At the family home, life seemed to move differently.

There was a closeness to the land — an understanding of crops, weather, wildlife and seasons. Things were repaired rather than replaced. Family conversations mattered. There was little need to impress anybody.

These were people whose lives and families had passed through occupation, communism, rationing and extraordinarily difficult times, yet there was huge warmth around the table.

I wrote something in my journal while I was there:

Richness is not found in wanting more, but needing less.

I think that may be one of the things Poland came to remind me.

It had been a long, hot summer at home. The grass has lost its normal deep green and the evenings seemed almost endless. There was something nostalgic about it — the kind of summer that reminded me of being younger, when time somehow moved more slowly. Perhaps that was why the simplicity I found in rural Poland affected me as much as it did.

June 2026 – Quiet Growth

June has been a month of quiet progress.

Looking back, there are no dramatic milestones or grand announcements, just a growing collection of small moments that seem to be finding their place alongside one another in steady curation.

The YouTube channel passed one million views this month. It's a strange thing to write because the number itself doesn't feel real. What feels real are the messages from people around the world who have spent a few moments sitting beside a campfire, watching the sea, listening to a song, or simply taking a breath. I give a window into my world.

The project continues to evolve naturally, without the noise.

When I started recording music, I imagined something closer to a traditional acoustic channel. Over time it has drifted somewhere else. The songs remain important, but the landscapes, the ruins, the forests, the fading light, and the atmosphere between the notes seem just as important now.

I've spent time exploring places that continue to inspire me. Old Wardour Castle left a particular impression. The ancient gateway, standing quietly after centuries, felt less like a structure and more like a reminder that beauty doesn't need to shout to be noticed.

We have visited Stourhead, a place I've wanted to film for some time. Not as a performance location, but as somewhere to document a feeling. Increasingly, that's what this project has become: an attempt to capture moments rather than performances.

Musically, I've reached a natural pause, whilst ideas swirl for my future projects. There is little rush, the best work comes from not forcing outcomes.

The studio recordings have taught me a lot, but I've realised that some of my favourite recordings are still the simplest ones made at home. They may not be perfect, but they feel honest. Going forward, I'm interested in exploring a more atmospheric sound — gentle acoustic guitar, spacious vocals, subtle pads and textures, while keeping the imperfections that make a recording feel human.

Away from music, life continues much as it always has. Work remains busy, family remains important, and there are still the ordinary challenges that come with everyday life. Perhaps that's why these creative moments matter so much. They provide space to slow down and pay attention.

As summer settles in, my focus remains the same as it was at the beginning: create steadily, enjoy the process, and keep building something authentic, one piece at a time.

Thank you for following along.

— Al

May has been a busy month. I have been working on many projects at the same time.

I have so many ideas that I struggle to focus on one at a time. I like writing on my website as It gives me an 

opportunity to talk freely. Summer has arrived, the changing seasons in the U.K. is one of the most interesting and beautiful parts of living here. 

Long summer days, more opportunities to escape to the coast and forest and interesting places.

I am lover of escaping from people, in the nicest possible way. To isolate and remove myself from the human

foot print as much as possible. There are many places to do that. But they require the right timing and often long walks. Night is a favourite time when people are home. This is often my time to venture out.

I have been expanding my site to bring more places to my visitors. The numbers to my site are growing all the time so thankyou for visiting.

I am really enjoying documenting my life in music nature and art and sharing it with you. I am learning a lot about myself all the time on this journey.

Under The Branches has been a project at Inchmery that I have thought about all winter. Its a special place where

I used to live many years ago when I was suffering from Trauma and depression.  It is a hugely sentimental place

also from my childhood visits with many happy memories. Inchmery is restorative to me. Emotionally huge as I have some so far to recover and build a life. 

The canopy of the branches provides a special romantic place of isolation for someone very special to me. 

I enjoyed capturing the beauty of every element involved in the work produced.

Thank-you for your continued support in documenting. I really value it. 

Please feel free to reach out to me I would love to hear from you all.

Kindest Regards

Al

I have been quietly working away in my own little way. Between home, the coast and the studio, 

as well as managing the challenges that life brings our way. 

I am always working on something. Summer is almost here after a very long and grey English winter. 

It can be hard going however I have lots to occupy me and I immerse myself in my music and creativity

which I love. 

I am currently enjoying playing a song called ‘ I know how to speak’ by an amazing American band

called Manchester Orchestra. I have added some short videos to my You Tube Channel. I will be recording 

the track shortly in the Studio with Jamie who is amazing sound engineer and musician.

I am excited.

There is always something to learn and discover. Music is something I never tire of, it is pure pleasure 

and it fascinates me. Thankyou to all who are following me in my quiet little corner of England. 

Time in the Purbecks

There are moments when life becomes too loud.
Too fast.
Too full of other people’s expectations.

This place is where I come to step away from that.

The Purbecks don’t ask anything of you.
They don’t rush you.
They don’t need you to perform or explain yourself.

They simply exist — stone, sea, wind, and time.

And in that, something begins to settle.

I walk the coastline slowly.
Not to get anywhere, but to feel where I am.
The cliffs hold their ground.
The sea moves endlessly below them.
And somewhere between the two, I find a kind of balance again.

Out here, the noise fades.
Not all at once — but gently, like the tide pulling back.

Thoughts that felt heavy begin to loosen.
Things that felt urgent no longer are.
And I start to see more clearly what matters… and what doesn’t.

This isn’t escape.
It’s recalibration.

A quiet return to myself.

Time stretches differently here.
Slower.
More honest.

And in that space, something shifts.

I remember who I am without the pressure.
Without the noise.
Without the weight of everything I carry elsewhere.

Just me, the coast, and the sound of the wind moving through it all.

This my place to leave personal entries.

Some from the coast.

Some from the studio.

Some from in between.

Things connected with my work, in one way or another. No real structure to it.

Just what feels worth keeping.

Al