Actually, instead of being the poor man’s choice the balcony was a select space reserved for the sound engineer, road crew and yours truly. Whilst the visual spectacle was better by the stage, up here you gained a fuller appreciation of the music as the sound swelled, reverberated and filled the performance space. It was nice to put the camera down for a couple of songs and just enjoy the show.

The set list is not only an obvious gig shot, but if you’re familiar with the artist it also serves as a useful reference to the progress of the show. This one, thanks to the presence of the harmonica, made a nice ‘storytelling’ image to flesh out the performance photos.

I can’t recall the name of the record shop where I bought my first Josh Rouse CD, but I remember it being a great little place at Miami South Beach. That disc formed the soundtrack to my rather unorthodox Floridian adventures and, to cut a long story short, Josh’s continued musical presence is the only remaining artefact of that trip.

Almost nine years later and I found myself wielding a photo pass at one of his rare UK gigs. Life is cyclical and (at times) marvellous.

There’s no denying that cheap package holidays have killed off many of our once-glorious Victorian seaside resorts.  Many of them soldier bravely on, attempting to scrape a living from daytrippers, but without a doubt any glamour or cache they once possessed has seriously faded.

For a photographer this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but for those trying to find a job or make a living there it’s a whole different story.  Whilst many of us dream of escaping to the coast, there are also people who feel terribly trapped by it.

I love the British coast, but the coastal resorts leave me with somewhat mixed emotions.