Rocking Horse.

Unfotunately I think this is the last drunk photo I have of Pete that hasn't yet been on this blog. Give me until christmas and I'll have a whole bunch more.

Blood Brother.

A girl with a rose and a man with a beard.

Mr Jeremy Fisher.

Our favourite place in London, the British museum.

Final Flight.

Chic Brodie and a dog

In November 1965, at Griffin Park, Brentford keeper Chic Brodie was milling around his own penalty area, minding his net and his own business, as you do, when he spotted a hand grenade in his goalmouth. It had been dispatched from the away end – populated by jaunty funsters from Millwall – and the firing mechanism had been removed. Luckily the thing failed to go off, and was removed in a bucket of sand by – credit where it's due to the boys in blue – a very brave peeler. Bottles were also wheeched on to the pitch. At the end of the game fighting broke out, and Millwall keeper Alex Stepney was attacked by some other nutter, who was at least only throwing hands and not munitions.

Anyway, Brodie must have used up all his on-pitch luck that day, because five years later at Colchester United, the keeper came out to gather a shot and was knocked out by a white dog that had taken to the pitch and was bowling for the ball at speed. "There was no confirmation of the rumour that Brodie's shins were barked," brayed the Observer's Football Round-Up man Ronald Atkin. Guffaws all round for the pun, though sadly the stripping of a bit of skin from flesh wasn't the sum total of Brodie's injury; his knee was shattered to pieces, and he would never play league football again. He did come up against league opposition a year later, though, on the comeback trail at non-league Margate – whereupon Bournemouth put 11 goals past him in a first-round FA Cup tie (Ted McDougall scoring nine). Yes, it's probably safe to say he used up all that luck with the grenade.

At Twilight.

These may be two people I don't know but in my opinion if you're in a public place and displaying your affection so obviously, you deserve to be photographed and put on a blog.

Plus it could have been worse guys, my camera wasn't ready when he had his hand up her top.

Race for the Prize.

The Flaming Lips at Alexandra Palace, London

Blue Moon.

At the Etihad Stadium for Manchester City vs. Everton, 24th October 2011.

I shot this on a 1986 Canon sure shot Supreme with kodak portra 400 film.

Love Me Do.

Oh Moschino, if only your clothes were as good as your window displays.

New Bond Street, last week.

Black Trees.

Scratch The Surface.

It were Lee's birthday last week, but we couldn't find all the candles to spell out 'Happy Birthday'.

If you look closer, you can see that instead we made it say 'Apt Bird'.

He was happy with that.

Slagsmalsklubben.

We only just discovered the Royal Festival Hall, and now I tell everyone about it. The Royal Festival Hall is an open building- an unusual thing in 2011 London. A public building that truly is open to the public. You can come and go as you like, 4 floors open to use as you like- to hire out or to just wander around. We did just that, walking the corridors and peering in to rooms, and we discovered a balcony on the top floor of the building overlooking the Thames, with tables and chairs. We rushed to a newsagents to buy some cheap beers and snacks and headed back to sit, catch up and watch the sun set; having met up just before the start of the film 'The Great White Silence' at the BFI.

Baby Missiles.

Pete from Dutch Uncles attending Marple Beer Festival, 23rd Sept 2011.

Shell Suite.

Rose garden.
Rolvenden, Kent, June 2011.

Happy Days!

Got to love mainland Europe.
Den Haag, Holland. May 2011.

The Boys Are Back In Town.

Dutch Uncles en route to Den Haag.

Belgium and Holland, May 2011.

Golden Years.

My 3 year old brother Harrison, pretending to be Batman. Gee Cross, Manchester, May 2011.

Monaco.

There's a story behind this picture.

Alex, a friend of mine, told me that I had to watch the 2nd episode of Top Gear, because the boys were driving around the Monte Carlo race circuit with Christian Horner, Flavio Briatore and Berns' Ecclestone. He knew it was my favourite place, my favourite circuit.

So I put it on and there's a bit where they arrive at Monte Carlo in Monaco, and park up on a hill overlooking the city. I paused it and thought, I know that place.

I ran to my dresser and pulled out stacks of photographs wrapped in 1980s kodak envelopes.

I finally found it.

My father took this photo while he was there racing, around 1984. I had it in a packet of photos that I took from his archives to set up an exhibition with, one that is no nearer to completion now than the day I took those photos away with me. But the nostalgia that part of Top Gear raised in me was pretty monumental. Monte Carlo has always had a special place in mine and my father's hearts, so to see this city which is so special to us from that point of view again was a great feeling. I hope to go back with him again and drive up that hill and take the same photo, but with the two of us in front of it.

Kings Of The Wild Frontier.

The greatest house ever built. Chateau Versailles, France, June 2011.

Shapeless.

Rolvenden, Kent, 2011.

Concrete Gold.

The window of Sarah's bedroom, Paris, June 2011.

Pulling Our Weight.

Picnic in the gardens of Chateau Versailles. June 2011.

Now That I'm Real (How Does It Feel?)

Slutwalk, Trafalgar Square, London. June 2011.

One More Cup Of Coffee

Coffee mornings. Sheffield, May 2011.

Midnight In Paris

Paris and friends. June 2011

Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out.

Basketball and moccasins.

Boys Boys Boys

Rue de Sir Pasta Paul?

Paris has many confusing street names when you're trying to navigate one-way alleys in a van by a phone conversation and a printed map that takes you to the centre of a postcode instead of the place you're actually looking for.

Lee tells me this is the name of a battle or something, all we know is that it sounds like a certain local Manchester legend.

Meanwhile the latest trip to Holland had no such set backs.

Continuous Hit Music.

I really need to stop traipsing the European continent and running up huge phone bills and getting cut off.

4 countries in 1 day and now I know what tired means.

Bed of Nails.

Not much to report here.

Go listen to the new Wild Beasts.

Shadowplay.