Lost Gardens of Heligan: Where is your coffee shop?

I need coffee...

My mum is mising Paul McCartney...

...and my brother is trying to rival my blog with a new one called 'Dave charcoals'...

Can we at least solve one of these issues with one of you guys making me a coffee?

Trees? What about you?

Oh, yeah, thanks.

Thanks for sending whatever you sent down from your leaves for me. It felt like it had teeth...

Something has bitten me...

Probably not a spider, as my mum has kindly illustrated above...

Or something from it's web.

Mum, why must you mock me when I have a fly in my pants and there's no caffeine to be had?

This will be my seat until coffee appears.

Strange...

The fly has gone but I see no cardboard cups trotting along.

Yet.

Maybe if I write annoying things on the wooden stuff here, my mum and brother will give up and find me a drink to shut me up?

'Mr Mendeleveev is the best', eh mum?

We'll see about that!

What's that, David?

You've GUFFED on the bench?

How rude...

Being hilarious and evil at the same time is so tiring...

Let me rest my flat foot for a minute.

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Interlaken, Switzerland: Scraping about in the mountains

The next place we visited by train was Interlaken in Switzerland.

Here it is on a map...

While France had lots of grey concrete buildings and angry Parisians, Switzerland had lots of mountains...

Mum wouldn't let me chalk inside this one. Or take photos. In case I dropped my stick and camera and jumped in the middle of the mountain to save both. I didn't leave any messages, but a photo was necessary. The waterfall fell right through the middle of a gigantic mountain, and it was immense.

Drinking tea out of the world's tiniest cups, and writing messages on a chalkboard, on the back of a hostel door. The door to a loo...

Looking at houses with funny shaped roofs, and houses full of chopped wood, instead of people.

Walking along...

For my friend Emma Huckerby...

To show that I am thinking of her whilst on holiday, and hoping that she uses her experiences to write a best-selling novel. Or, at least, a column in a glossy magazine.

Beautiful.

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Tromso, Norway: Documenting TSC 2011

In April, I got to go to Tromso Sound City festival courtesy of Liverpool Sound City here in the UK. The festival ran for two days with conferences in the day and live music at night.

I covered the event for a radio station but in my free time (and when I wasn't larking about in front of the stage and waiting to see some Northern Lights), I documented some of the fun I had, and what I could see from the island.

When the chalk ran out, I used my fingers (swapping concrete for snow). When we got to the top of the mountain, everyone else joined in.

This was us (myself, Dave Haynes, Dick Carruthers, Pete Fowler and Kev McManus) taking a taxi over "the bridge of death", in order to see what lay on the other side of the waters...

Writing on the side of a house

Chalking on the wall between the music festival's venue 'Driv' and the water...

Watching some bands (Miles Kane above) and giving my sticks a break

Dancing with some Norwegian electronic artists who pull shapes we could only dream of, and spreading a love of vandalising through chalk...

Going up in the snow cart (big moment)

Using our fingers to draw the things we love most in the snow. *See note about chalking in snow

Pete loves monsters

I love words

They all love each other

Members of the Tromso Sound City team braving temperatures lower than that of Neptune

Gazing yonder to places far more beautiful (and temporarily cooler)...

Leaving.

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