Sunday, 3 August 2014


A few years ago I read a novel called ‘What I Was’ with my third year students. It was a book for teenagers, a coming-of-age tale set in East Anglia, the story of the friendship between two very different boys in the 1960s. I don’t remember much of the plot, but there is a passage that got engraved in my mind: the two boys are rowing on a boat on a clear Easter day; the sea is calm and they can see the remains of a lost medieval city underwater.

The sea is actually one of the protagonists of the book and the story reaches its climax during a storm that floods the cabin where one of the boys lives. Thirty years on, it will also have claimed the hateful school where the other protagonist felt like a prisoner. The beach where most of the action takes place is a place full of mystery – cold and menacing. 

When I read this book I wondered whether this place was real or just a product of the imagination of Meg Rosoff, its author. I recently discovered the truth.

A few weeks ago Pam invited us to spend a few days in Suffolk. She and her family have a cottage in a very small village, Walpole, and she suggested that we could stay there and use their bicycles to move around the region and discover its treasures. 

Tug of war in Walberswick
There are plenty of cycling routes, and on the first day we embarked on a seven-hour trip that took us as far as Framlingham, where we finally stopped to have a beer in the pub near the station.

On this first excursion we went through yellow fields and green woods, passing almost inhabited places with a church in the middle of nowhere. On the second day, however, we decided to set towards the coast. We had been told about a mysterious town called Dunwich and immediately I knew it was the place the book talked about.

Dunwich was the capital of the Anglo Saxon kingdom of East Angles. It was an international harbour and in the 13th century it had eight churches and about five thousand inhabitants. Between 1286 and 1362 a series of storm surges (or meteotsunamis) destroyed most of the harbour and the town. In the 19th century there were less than 250 inhabitants and only one of the churches remained, the one that was claimed by the sea between 1908 and 1919. Nowadays, Dunwich is just a couple of streets and it has only 50 inhabitants. However, it’s still a town, not a village. 

There’s a museum and a cafe on the beach, where you can have the typical fish and chips or drink a cup of coffee before going for a walk along the cliff (you are warned to be careful, because its edge may collapse into the beach when you expect it the least). 

The cliff eventually leads to a wood that hides the remains of the Greyfriars priory. What really impressed me the most was the lack of people around, even in the middle of July, the absolute silence only broken by the cries of the birds coming from the nearby marshes.

Going back to the beach, the weather suddenly changed and it started to rain. It felt so different from the scorching sandy extensions full of holidaymakers of Southern Spain (I must confess I have always hated going to the beach in Malaga: too much sand, too much heat, too much noise). Here, in this desolate landscape I felt I could walk forever. The rain stopped eventually and we started moving towards the marshes, following the opposite direction. First we came across a family who were brave enough to adventure themselves into the sea (we had brought our swimsuits but we found the sea too menacing and turbulent).

Later on we came across a man standing next to a fishing rod. His daughter, a twelve-year old girl was lying comfortably inside a bivouac, drawing pictures on a notebook. They told us that the weather was nice enough to spend the night on the beach. Maybe they expected to listen to the bells of the churches of the ghost town, as the legend says.

We continued our silent walk. The prevailing colour was brown: you could see it in the sea and in the stones, different shades that combined with the traditional white, black and grey. The only noise was the one from the sea and the crushing sound of the pebbles under our shoes.

Walking along this barren place, I thought it could very well become a metaphor of the dementia process. This condition is progressive and it erodes not only your memory but your capacity to communicate and do everyday activities. However, the person with dementia is still a person. All the features that define them are still there, but in a submerged form.
Last Tuesday we had dinner with Anita Berlin in a really nice place near the Thames. Anita told us about all the different projects she has in mind to give shape to the history of her family. Anita’s mother, Carmen, who lives with Alzheimer’s, has an amazing history. To give you just an example, she was one of the persons who were saved by Angel Sanz-Briz, the Angel of Budapest, during the II World War. Anita has the original documents. She also has a little diary she found recently, which contains a list of books, some of them crossed out. Carmen, who spoke four languages and had a passion for words, can no longer speak. This little notebook will allow Anita to discover more about her mother through the books she read or wanted to read.

Marine archaeologists have managed to reconstruct the map of the old city of Dunwich. Anita is also an archaeologist of submerged treasures.

Photography: Lorenzo Hernandez                                

Sunday, 20 July 2014


I recently attended a performance of Titus Andronicus at the Globe Theatre in London as part of the social programme we had organized for the European partners of the Remembering Yesterday Caring Today Training project who attended the symposium. 

This is one of Shakespeare’s bloodiest productions. It narrates a series of barbaric events that culminate in a banquet where a woman is tricked into eating a pie made with her own sons’ flesh. Rape, mutilation, physical and psychological torture and murder are offered to the spectators in such a stark way that it makes some people feel physically sick. 

I had been warned about the negative reviews this production had received because of its sensationalistic use of violence, an attempt to make a Tarantino-like version of Shakespeare. Actually, there wasn’t so much blood – it was theatre after all. What really shocked me was a scene when a girl is found in the woods by her uncle after having been savagely raped, tortured and maimed. It wasn’t what you could actually see, but the look of madness in the young woman’s face. This reminded me of a performance of the ‘Vagina Monologues’ I saw a few years ago in which one of the actresses reflects on the fate of the thousands of women who were systematically raped during the Bosnian-Serbian war of the 1990s.

Later on in the play, the girl’s father asks the emperor if a parent should kill a daughter that has been raped. The emperor answers that he should, so he murders her in order to save his honour. It’s chilling to think about how often I have heard the same story in the news in the last few years. 

Has humanity changed so little? Yesterday I was in the underground station and I read an announcement of Amnesty International asking people to sign a petition to save a teenage boy from being hanged. His crime? Being gay. 

Fortunately, there are moments when you can see a silver lining in such a bleak panorama. On the same day I attended the performance of Titus Andronicus, I was walking up Whitehall with a group of people who had come to London from all over Europe. When we reached the monument that commemorates the fallen in the wars, we came across a parade of members of the three services of the armed forces. 

As soon as this celebration finished, members of the police moved some fences and the floats of the Pride in London parade took over. In seconds, the sound of the army boots were substituted by the songs of Gloria Gaynor and other divas and the choreographies of topless muscular men and drag queens followed the same route that had been covered by the army march a few minutes before. 

This is one of the things I love about this city, the rich mixture of ways of living and the opportunity to express yourself and live the life of your choice. 

I leave you with the photos Lorenzo took during in Pride in London celebration in Trafalgar Square, one of my favourite places in London.

Lorenzo takes a break from photography in Trafalgar Square

I just caught the London eye celebrating Gay Pride with my mobile

Photography: Lorenzo Hernandez                                                                            

Thursday, 3 July 2014


Drama workshop at the RYCT Reminiscence in Dementia Care Symposium
After spending a month in Malaga working at the Official School of Languages in Fuengirola, I am back in London. Going back to my old life in Spain wasn’t as hard as I expected. It was weird to meet my students on the last week of classes, but the teacher who had been standing in for me, Tamara, was such an amazing professional that she made the transition really smooth. After a couple of days I felt as if I had never left my post. It was also really nice to discover that many of my old students had been following this blog and had been connected to me somehow throughout the year.

Living at my mum’s was great: she and her partner, Julian, spoilt me rotten and I must say that I have never eaten so much “jamón serrano” in my life. They live far from my school and I have spent a long time commuting to work, but I also had a delicious sandwich in my bag. Travelling by train wasn’t that bad after all, I spent the time doing useful things such as reading Anita Berlin’s wonderful account of how her grandfather arrived in Spain or writing my contribution for the forthcoming symposium Remembering Yesterday Caring Today. Reminiscence in Dementia Care”.

However, life has been far from relaxing. I left in the morning and came back almost at midnight. To make matters worse, my permission to come back to London to help at the symposium wasn’t properly applied for and it wasn’t clear whether I would get it until the very last minute. Finally, I was given the green light to come to London less than 24 hours before my flight was supposed to take off. I was sighing with relief when I was told that my flight had been cancelled due to the French air controllers’ strike. It was 19:00 and I had to be in London the next day. The airline I was booked in could not offer me a place in the next 48 hours and I would miss the symposium. My colleague Paul helped me find another flight with another company. Fortunately, this one wasn’t cancelled. I travelled all night and I arrived just in time for the conference.

Workshop on the use of visual arts-based activities
Again, going back to my life in London was really easy (I must have become a very flexible person). After a few hours, I felt I had never left. Fortunately, Sue Heiser and a group of wonderful people (I can’t mention all of them now, but I am extremely thankful to them) had helped Pam in the last legs of the conference preparations.

Most of the members of the European Reminiscence Network have worked together in the framework of a Grundtvig Learning Partnership (Remembering Yesterday, Caring Today) during the last two years. This symposium was the culmination of this project. Delegates from all over Europe (The Czech Republic, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Ireland, Northern Ireland Poland, Slovakia, Spain) joined specialists from all over the UK to share experiences and ideas.

Josep Vilar and Duna Ulsamer give their presentation on the impact of RYCT on staffs and residents in the care home context
What was the symposium about? Well, Sally Knocker, summarised it very well in her introductory talk. First, she asked the audience to choose three pieces of information they would use to define themselves. Some people chose things related to their work, hobbies, family, personality... Then, Sally explained that when you are diagnosed with dementia, this is the only thing people see in you; all of a sudden, the rest of your defining features disappear.

The Slovak team led a series of activities on the use of visual arts
The day was packed with workshops focused on the experience and needs of participants with dementia, the impact of “Remembering Yesterday Caring Today” in the care home context, the needs of family carers, the use of drama, music and the visual arts in the RYCT sessions, and how to work towards an artistic product, training and evaluation. All these workshops had a common goal: to focus on the person, not the patient. Artists met social workers, care home managers, specialists in dementia, writers, family carers and persons with dementia who have made different contributions to the RYCT project according to their own skills.

Drama activity led by Pam Schweitzer
The day went by like a dream and I would like to share with you a few moments, illustrated by Lorenzo’s wonderful photos: the participants of the drama workshop lying on the floor reproducing the frozen image of a holiday, the people who joined the visual arts workshop writing and drawing on the paper-covered walls, Anita Berlin looking at the series of portraits that her son Alex had made of her father Ludwig, Josep and Duna talking about the impact of the project in the care home context... Of course I missed a lot. I wish I could have been everywhere, but you can get a taste of the exciting atmosphere of the day.

Anita Berlin looking at her father's portrait
We had lunch in the beautiful hall of the town hall in Woolwich (Pam managed to convince them not to move us to the basement, even if we were almost 100 people), and we had the “official” group photo on the impressive staircase, one of the landmarks of the building.

Dinner at the Town Hall in Woolwich
One of the pluses of this symposium was the outstanding theatre performances we enjoyed during the day. The first one was “Going Back”, the new reminiscence show by Eastern Angles, which tells the life story of Sid, a 94-year-old veteran and his wife Hettie throughout the 20th century. This was a brilliantly performed show in which I would highlight the amazing choreography and use of sound effects.

Pam Schweitzer and Jon Tavener (director)  converse before the Eastern Angles show 
"Going Back" by Eastern Angles
The second performance was Wioleta Pietrasik’s homage to her grandma, who lived with Alzheimer’s during the last years of her life. This intimate piece was developed by the actress herself with the help of Pam Schweitzer. I loved the mixture of Polish and English and the humorous use of body language.

Wioleta Pietrasik shows how her mother used to stir the mashed potatoes
There was also an exclusive one-to-one performance by Clare McManus, “Tread Softly”, which took place in the kitchen, but only ten people could attend it and I wasn’t one of the lucky ones.

I had to speak at the end of the day, during the launching of the Reminiscence Theatre Archive, so I expected that by the time my turn arrived, everybody would have fled or would be half asleep out of exhaustion. To make matters worse, there was a break for “wine” right before my speech. Amazingly, everybody enjoyed my presentation (maybe it was the wine). I guess my life had been such a rollercoaster for the last seven days that I was too tired to get nervous. Actually, I really enjoyed sharing my enthusiasm about the hidden treasures of the archive.

To finish this entry, I would like to thank all the European members of the network for their support and appreciation. I met most of them in Poznan in October, when I had just arrived here, and now it’s great to see them at the end of this project. They are great professionals and wonderful persons as well. This is the end of one of their learning partnerships and the beginning of a new one, this time led by the very capable Catalan team. Pam knows that the future of the network is in good hands.

Mark, Duna and Josep enjoy their meal at Pam's
Petr Veleta shows his dancing skills to the group
P.S. The next day Pam invited all the European partners to have dinner at her house and relax after two days of hard work. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was lively and warm. Each country was invited to sing a song and the Spanish team chose “Eva Mª se fue buscando el sol en la playa”. 

Probably not the best song of the night, but we enjoyed it

 Photos: Lorenzo Hernandez                                 

Monday, 26 May 2014


On my last night in London a friend from California, the writer Julia Halprin Jackson, urges me to face the ultimate challenge: to participate in a blog-hop in which a series writers give away the little secrets of their trade by answering a few questions. Being a rookie in the writing world, I feel really honoured to have been selected to join this project. I met Julia in 2006, when she was working as a language assistant in a primary school near Fuengirola. At the time I was leading a bilingual drama workshop with a wonderful Spanish teacher, Pilar Andújar, and soon Julia became one of our main assets. I will always remember her with her little notebook, writing down all the words and expressions that came up in our conversations. We have been in touch since then and she has been a constant collaborator of COLLAGEmagazine (watch out for our next memory issue, she has contributed with a most amazing story in which she pays homage to her grandmother, Amah).

Julia is an accomplished writer: her work has appeared in West Branch Wired, California Northern, Fourteen Hills, Flatmancrooked, Sacramento News & Review, Fictionade, Fiction365, Catalyst and Spectrum, as well as selected anthologies. Julia has been awarded scholarships from the Tomales Bay Writer’s Workshops and the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, and earned an M.A. in Creative Writing (fiction) from UC Davis. She lives in Northern California with Ryan, her fiance, where she co-founded and co-curates Play On Words, a collaborative literary performance series. And on top of all this, she’s working on her first novel, which is set in Southern Spain. You can learn more about julia at

So here’s my little contribution to this blog-hop:

What am I working on?

This year in London has been a source of inspiration. I began this blog as part of my project for the European Commission and what started like a sort of “obligation” has become a real pleasure. Thus, even if my Grundtvig assistantship expires today, my intention is to carry on adding entries to this blog. Apart from this, I have been in charge of editing and coordinating the next issue of COLLAGE magazine, which is devoted to the topic of memory and will come out at the end of this month.

Also, I have several projects in mind. One of them is to write the texts that will accompany a book containing the amazing photographs that my partner, Lorenzo Hernández, has taken all throughout this year.

Lorenzo has always encouraged me to write, but I never knew what to write about. Now, all of a sudden, my head is full of stories and characters that are waiting to be put into paper. I don’t really know where this will lead to, but I am really looking forward to embark myself into this adventure.

How is my work different than others in its genre?

I’d say that it’s probably the fact that all what I write is intimately connected to Lorenzo’s photography. His images are always my source of inspiration, although I wouldn’t say that they rule absolutely what I write. I start with the photos and then my imagination runs free.

Having said this, I must admit that Lorenzo’s way of looking at the world through his camera, his personal view, the way he makes the most mundane things beautiful and poetic, rubs off on me a little bit. We spend most of our time talking, we started a conversation almost twenty years ago and we haven’t run out of topics yet, and I think all this food for though must show up in what I write.

How does my writing process work? 

This is a question that has always fascinated me. Do writers know how their stories finish before they start writing or do they find out as they go? Years ago I asked this question to a very dear friend, the Irish writer Siobhan Galvin. She had written two one-thousand-page novels while raising three children and she told me that she used to write every day from 12pm to 13.30, once she had finished tidying up her house and before picking up the kids from school. She never new what she was going to write, it was as if the different characters told her what was going to happen next.

My case is the opposite. I need to have a structure in my head, a scaffolding that I flesh out in several drafts. Like Julia, I like leaving the text to rest and go back to it a few days later. Sometimes I erase everything and start all over again because when I wake up in the morning I suddenly have a much better structure in my head. With the blog I know the topic I am going to write about, I have the images, but I can’t start working until I have this structure.

Why do I write what I do?

Because once I have managed to finish a piece of writing, the pleasure is immense. I have always loved the ends that promise a new beginning, like the new friendship in Casablanca. For me writing is this new beginning.

I have asked three blogger friends to carry the torch: Gloria García Ordóñez, who works as a coach, reflects about life and the human nature in her blog;  José Manuel Cruz Barragán leads a “double life” as an economist and film critic; and Joaquín García Weil is a philosopher and yoga teacher. I admire the three of them and I would like to thank them for joining me in this adventure. Their blogs are in Spanish, so I’ll leave their biographies in this language.


Sevillano de nacimiento y malagueño de adopción. Aunque mi titulación dice que soy Licenciado en Económicas y Master en Administración de Empresas, al mismo tiempo también me apasionan el cine y la literatura. De acuerdo con ello, llevo una "doble" vida en que, por un lado, soy consultor empresarial y asesor financiero independiente y, por otro, soy escritor. En 2013, publiqué mi primera novela, Sin tregua se consumían nuestros ojos, que, espero, tenga continuación en breve. Actualmente, soy el autor de dos blogs: uno de economía, EL DEDO EN EL DATO ( y otro de cine, EL ESPECTADOR IMPERTINENTE (


Cordo-malagueña, filóloga, formadora y coach. Anglófila, bebedora de té, practicante de yoga y entusiasta del vino tinto. Me encanta leer al sol, ver películas, reunirme con mi familia y quedar con mis amigos. Si es alrededor de una cerveza bien fría y de un plato enorme de buen jamón ibérico, mejor que mejor. Disfruto de mis momentos de llanto y aún más de los de risas. Creo que la Vida es increíblemente hermosa y que el dolor es sólo un amigo que trae un mensaje en la mochila. Tengo a la Muerte presente cada día y lo que me mueve es seguir camino mirando hacia adentro, conectando con el otro, aprendiendo y creciendo. Escribir es para mí una auto-terapia primero, y a través de mis reflexiones, nacidas de mi aprendizaje, quiero pensar que puedo aportar algo para que otras personas también avancen en su proceso de auto-descubrimiento. Escribo sobre la vida y sobre el ser humano, desde una perspectiva integradora y sistémica y dentro del marco respetuoso y ecológico que me aporta el coaching


Joaquín García Weil, Licenciado en Filosofía, practica Yoga desde hace veinte años y lo enseña desde hace once. Es alumno del Swami Rudradev (discípulo destacado de Iyengar), con quien ha aprendido en el Yoga Study Center, Rishikesh, India. También ha estudiado con el Dr. Vagish Sastri de Benarés, entre otros maestros. Ha colaborado en Psicología Práctica, Yoga Journal (versión española) y la Revista Dharma. Ha fundado y dirige YogaSala Málaga, centro de yoga y meditación, donde enseña estas disciplinas.

Sunday, 11 May 2014


Mati and daughters

A few years ago Lorenzo photographed a mother and two daughters for his “generations” series. Even if the daughters were in the summit of their beauty, it was the mother, who was in her mid seventies, who stood out. She had this star quality that reminded everyone of the actress Geraldine Chaplin. However, when she saw herself in the portrait, she hated it and she said she didn’t know she looked so old. His daughter, who had commissioned the portrait, displayed it in her apartment, nonetheless. It was not until dozens of people had praised the photo that she started to appreciate it.

This is not news for Lorenzo; we have learned to accept that people feel uncomfortable when seeing their portraits for the first time. We also know that they will eventually grow to love them.

Mati modelling for Lorenzo in Dior
I recently listened to a radio interview with the legendary photographer David Bailey, who is currently showing a retrospective of his work at the National Portrait Gallery, and it gave me food for thought. It did not surprise me to learn that the same happens to him. He said that he loves it when someone who poses for him hates the portrait and then, twenty years later, his wife phones saying: “Do you remember that photo you took of my husband? It’s the best portrait he’s ever had. Could we have a copy now?”

Michael Caine's famous portrait opens David Bailey's Exhibition in London
Bailey tells us an anecdote about Picasso and Gertrude Stein. When she saw her portrait, she said: “ I don’t look like that!” and Picasso retorted: “You will”. A good portrait shows your real self, the one that naturally emerges throughout the years.

In 1999 Bailey was photographing the singer Marianne Faithful. She was in her underwear in the process of changing clothes when he said: “Don’t move. This is the picture.” She was 53 and she looked 53, which is one of the things I love about her. He told her that he wanted to show the world that she was “Marianne Faithful” and didn’t give a monkey’s about what people thought. He took two pictures. In one of them she was serious; in the other one she was laughing. She hated the second one. It was not the fact that the photo showed her mature body; in this sense both photos were identical. It was the grin, with a hint of madness, which upset her. The second photo somehow announced the decadence of the mind, something that terrifies all of us.

It’s easy to please a model: a little bit of photo editing and you are as good as new. It requires boldness to show the poser’s inner self. It also demands the gift to connect with the person that hides behind the mask. Bailey said that doing a portrait is a mode of communication. I cannot agree more. Lorenzo does exactly the same: he talks to the model and clicks, and that’s the picture. He doesn’t need to think about what he’s going to do, it just happens. He says it’s as if it was the unconscious that took the picture.

It’s funny to think that men normally accept this sort of exposure more than women. I wonder why. I am a bit like Marianne Faithful. I have no problems with him photographing my body, but it takes me a while to see my face as it is reflected by the camera. I always look too anxious. Again, this is a reflection of my character: I worry too much. On the other hand, when I look at the first portraits he took of me, I really like what I see, and I have come to accept that this is what will happen to the current ones, eventually.
In a world where digital cameras and photo editing software have made photography accessible to everybody, where it’s so easy to show who you would like to be, not who you are, we really need artists who have the bravery and the talent to reveal people’s inner selves.

You can visit David Bailey’s Stardust at the National Portrait Gallery until 1st June 2014.
You can listen to Tim Marlow interviewing David Bailey for BBC radio at:
To see Picasso’s portrait of Gertrude Stein click here
To see David Bailey’s portrait of Marianne Faithful, click here 

Photography: Lorenzohernandez                            

Saturday, 3 May 2014


A few days ago, Lorenzo found a small jewel in Televisión Española’s website, a programme devoted to a song I used to listen to when I was about twenty, Gabinete Caligari’s Camino Soria (The Way To Soria). In this programme the presenter, Juan Carlos Ortega, offers us a delightful twenty-minute piece of reminiscence. As he tracks the history of the song, he embarks on a personal journey: he recognizes places he used to visit, remembers a girl who rejected him, and he even meets one of my generation’s national heroes, the legendary National Radio DJ Jesús Ordovás.

Ordovás accurately defines Camino Soria as a song-river, because it’s like a flow that carries you downhill. It tells the story of a man who has been abandoned by the woman he loves and decides to embark on a journey to Soria, a small town on the banks of the River Duero in the cold lands of Castilla. Soria has strong links with the poets Machado and Becquer, but Gabinete’s lead singer, Jaime Urrutia, confesses that they chose the name because it rhymed with history (historia), glory (gloria) and memory (memoir).

The programme ends with Juan Carlos and Jaime sitting together on a wooden bench next to the river Duero. Jaime takes the guitar he has been carrying the entire journey out of its case and starts strumming the chords, singing the first lines of the song. Juan Carlos joins him. They sing slightly out of key and Jaime sometimes forgets the chords, but Juan Carlo’s face reflects the joy of reminiscence.

A few weeks ago I had a similar experience along Regent’s Canal. This is one of the most enjoyable walks in London. It was a day that announced spring, the sun was shining brightly for the first time in months and there was an atmosphere of anticipation. We started near King’s Cross, next to the site of Central Saint Martins, one of the best arts and design schools in the world. The building is located in a square covered with little fountains that throw jets of water into the air. There was a group of children in their swimsuits jumping about with contagious thrill. On the terraces that lead to the canal groups of young people were basking in the early spring sun.

Our walk along the Canal was like Camino Soria; we just went with the flow and observed what we found along the way: we came across a young man who had prepared a barbeque receiving his first guest, several couples holding hands, a group of boys having a row under one of the bridges... There were houses whose gardens led to the canal and barges where people lived. 

Some areas were busy and noisy, like the stretch that crosses Camden Lock, and others were peaceful and silent. 

When we reached Regent’s Garden, we saw the back of the aviary from the zoo and when we finally reached little Venice, we found a harbour full of barges that looked like a little village. 

We were about to reach the end of our walk, which lasted for more than four hours, when we came across a huge blackboard with the words “BEFORE I DIE...” written a hundred times. There were pieces of chalk for those who wanted to write a message. In the spur of the moment, I scrawled the first thing that came to my mind: “I want to meet Paul Weller”.

For me Paul Weller was the beginning of all. I was an 11-year-old when I listened to “Going Underground” for the first time. This song was like an epiphany, a sudden realization that there was a world beyond my little life in a town in Southern Spain in 1980. Music has played a key role in my life since then.

When we left the Canal in Little Venice, we walked down the street, crossed it and... guess who was on the other side, holding the hand of a little boy? Paul Weller.

You can watch the video “Going Underground” at

By the way,  do you recognize the poster in the background?

Photos: Lorenzohernandez