Hi Ray . . .

from another ferry.
Had an idle, and indulgent hour yesterday (while pieces of paper soaked in tea were drying or not drying due to sudden October dampness - part of an art process) 'googling' folks from my past.
Difficult to imagine, is it not, what it was like before the computer. Thoughts like: I wonder what Queribino de Suza  from my secondary school art class is doing now?" would be thunk and forgotten, unless you made it ones life's work as an art piece or you happen to be a stalker.
These days, just tap in the name and voila, people with the same name inhabiting all the different corners of the world appear on your screen.
I looked up me yesterday, yes sad . . . I think we all do it — hope so anyway.
I share my name with a blonde woman who writes attic loads of romantic novels (in fact we have one in the loo, thanks Ruth and Chris). Another lady who paints (confusing) an actress, and someone in a tight leather outfit, not me, unless I really don't remember last New Year's Eve do. The blog makes it into the first page sometimes along with 'Alfi Beasti don't eat that'.
Bref, (French for I digress) I found Ray, photographer, living in London . . . Nice to make the contact, lots of good memories about an art college trip to Malta; I'm not sure how much use it was as a college piece of work, but it certainly was one of the most important two weeks of my life, and part of the reason we made the move Southwards.
Malta was the first mediterranean place I ever visited; the colour, smells and light made a profound impression on me which has never left.