CARAVAN CLUB
My annual visit to Yorkshire to stay with friends became a holiday within a holiday this time, as we all departed for a weekend to a small caravan in Marrick, Swaledale. Close to the river Swale and in the grounds of an old priory, the little caravan nestled under a stand of trees far from civilisation. The priory grounds were home to an outdoor pursuits centre, but aside from the odd party of ramblers and the occasional group of eager school kids crossing the field, the site was an oasis of calm. The field next to the priory was home to a handful of sheep and two cows and the rundown buildings at the edge were patrolled by wary farm cats. Given my fascination with dilapidation and decay, the area was a gift to photography, with ruined walls reclaimed by wild flowers and a wealth of old storerooms and sheds next to the priory, full of junk and disorder. Neither the cows or the sheep seemed at all concerned with my wanderings and I walked down to the storehouse behind the ol...