Winter Falling

Alex and Ell at St. Paul’s
Charles, Marquis of Cornwallis – Governor General of Bengal
Alex and the Marquis
‘Nelson’s massive tomb is ahead. Light shafts down through round grills in the ceiling.’
‘The choir stalls are oak and ornate and carved with little orange lampshades every couple of feet. It would be cosy if it wasn’t for the vast open space above.’
‘There’s a perfectly good pulpit at St. Paul’s covered in wooden cherubs like the rest of the place.’

Team Winter

Ell and the north gatehouse (Winter Dawn)

Tamsin Collison, audio producer extraordinaire

Alex and Ell, Central park, New York

Winter Dawn

‘I stare at the ducks clearly in a perfect line now that I know.’ 

The Jackie O reservoir, Central Park, New York

‘There was a tiny balcony on the reservoir side, entirely hidden from the track. It stuck out over the water.’ 

‘I hurl myself over the iron railings…tear myself free, slide down the steep lip of the reservoir and land scratched and winded and panting just short of the water.’ 

‘Mayor Mitchel was there, right where they had left him.’ 

‘The track was smooth and pale and lit like it was day. Bright globes every few yards snaking away into the distance. Chains of light like a garden decked out in lanterns.’

‘Follow me,’ she said and stepped onto the track. ‘And keep off the live third rail if you don’t want to die.’

‘I get a sliver of vision along the grey platform…..the base of red columns, something rectangular made of galvanised steel, shiny as a mirror..’

Ell at 96th St station

Winter Rising launch day

Winter Rising

‘The just man walketh in his integrity.
I look up into the face of an angel. Her blind eyes stare downwards. Dark stains spread across the steps of her plinth…’

Winter Rising Chap 19

With Ell at the Audies New York 2020 for WINTER DARK

Winter Dark launch day

Winter is here

Wielding the knife

Cute Winter Dark chocs

Aw.. Winter Veuve…thanks guys X

Sir John Scarlett at the Cloudflare Internet Summit June 2018

‘The squat clock tower in the main square sounds a single echoing note, an iron bell ringing the half hours from rusty chains. The white painted clock face is unreadable.’

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