A boy called Thomas

Finding things, knowing we’ll never know the full story.

I guess it’s the mystery and unknowable backstory that draws me time and time again to the pieces of wood, china, glass, odds and ends to be found on the tideline.

If they could talk, what could they tell us?  From where have they travelled and how long did it take for them to end up here?

I’m often asked where the DownTime project began. And in truth, while it’s the journalist in me that loves a good mystery , I think, in the main, it’s because of a boy called Thomas, my little star, who spent his final days with me watching the seas and marching the windswept dunes of Northumberland, and who now flies with the birds at Flamborough Head.

To know more about me and my boy – and about life after he left. You’ll find our story – and perhaps a little indication of why I do what I do – here:



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