Stuart Bowditch Podcasts

The two benches that I was planning on using were taken but further along was an empty one, which was closer to a slight ledge on the hill that was actually in a great place as I wasn’t in danger of filming any members of the public at close proximity, like that boy on a bicycle last time, there was also man having a loud aggressive phone call. A Chiffchaff competes with the traffic, wide tyres on tarmac and cobbles, early afternoon midweek spring sunshine vibes, Parakeets make it unmistakably London, and the jets are much lower than in Essex or Suffolk, large Tortoiseshell butterfly flits around the microphone, I’m recording at the wrong time of year to properly represent the painting as it depicts a September scene, Magpies frequent Branch Hill Pond at the bottom of the hill, Cherry blossom and fresh green leaves, a cement mixer powers up West Heath Road, it’s difficult to relax with so many passers by, a wood pigeon flies up the hill, a small spider crawls along the dry mud, a low jet climbs from LHR and banks to the north, quite a lot of bees and wasps as the temperature is well above 10ºC, a mum and boy with a plastic spade sticking out the top of their back pack, a pale yellow Brimstone butterfly, a skip lorry bumps up the hill, keeping my headphones on as a deterrent, a beautiful red dog taking an interest in the mic but then sitting next to the bench, and then it’s owner sitting on the bench, a pug with a diamond collar shining in the sunlight, the dog squeaking its ball, it’s other owner talking to his companion in French and the dog in English, a Jewish man kicking the ball back to the dog, a Police siren, I notice that the dog has an Apple AirTag, the man walking to the bottom of the hill and unsuccessfully calling the dog down to him, the lady has a chat to two lads with a bicycle and a film camera, their names are Judith and Astra, two ducks on the pond, after the boys go we sit in an awkward silence, a hoverfly, a small plane making a loud drone, the French speaking man with his top off in the sun. I’m quite happy not talking to anyone about my activities and the enforced silence helps me to keep that state, there is a time and a place and in the middle of a recording is not it, obviously no one else knows what I’m doing or my reasons for my choices, a shiny black/green beetle going about its day, a lady on the phone taking an interest in the mic but then continuing on her walk, lots of bird action including Wren, Robin, Blue Tit, Blackcap, Crow, Goldfinch and Blackbird. A tall couple with back packs, a man walking a Spaniel, a bee on the floor investigating a cigarette butt, a police van, two lads with coats wrapped around their back packs, an ant on the bench, my internal clock timing in at 54 minutes (I should just wait for the headphone beep), the ant n my shorts now so I need to move carefully, the shadow of a jet passing over this exact spot, an illegible memorial on the bench, that strange patch that I had on my arm for about 6 months is now healing up, two ladies on the other bench laughing, the headphone beep.

The Glebe Farm - 6th April 2026 The Langham estate gate was closed so I had to drive around a bit to suss out a suitable access point. The large gate at East Lodge on Gun Hill looked closed so I drove over the county border and in to Stratford St.Mary, as I remembered there is a foot path that heads over the river bridge and towards Langham across the fields. It was a gorgeous 15 minute walk in the morning sunshine so what's not to like. Whilst setting up a couple passed by and the man said ‘I’m going to have to ask…’ so I told him, and gave them a business card that I had ready in my pocket for just this kind of encounter and he told me about a Constable painting location nearby, an old mill in Stratford, the outline of which can still be seen, two ladies on horseback also asked what I was up to. I thought that it would be quiet here this early but it was positively heaving. Finally I started recording and sat down to concentrate on listening as today I wasn’t doing any filming, the main reason for which was that there is a large fence in the view now so it wouldn’t be a particularly interesting watch. The farm, now called Church Farm is also a private dwelling so filming it would be a little bit intrusive. It was however a great listen with many bird species identified quickly, including Chiffchaff, Great Tit, Jackdaw, Wren and Blackbird. Bank holidays are prime time for bikers going to the many meets around the country so even though the A12 is a fair way away this high position means that the sound is travelling up to here, there are lots of aircraft, mainly to and from STN and European destinations, I’m also sitting in a cloud of midges which I recall happened the last time I was here, maybe the impending oil crisis will kerb a lot of travel by ICE and jet propelled vehicles, my own journeys will be impacted too so hopefully I’ll be able to finish the project, a squirrel leaps up the trunk of a tree, I imagine that the protection against development afforded by this estate means that it has changed very little in the past 200 years, with influences coming across the rail by air, such as animals, birds, pollen, viruses, sound, spores etc. a black dog comes to say hello and it's owner calls it back whilst clomping along in huge Wellington Boots, a relatively close Robin and Green Woodpecker fill the Spectrograph, light aircraft GMOGN heads south, sitting in the woods has a certain feeling to it that I have been absorbing for half an hour now but the call of a Gull changes that instantly, and as a Southend boy I’m instantly transported back to there, a shame as I had escaped from there 10 years ago, the 200Hz hum is intermittently back, I’ll have to test the battery packs and cables when I get home, the sun's strength is increasing and I feel a slight warmth coming over my shoulder, my hand casts a shadow on t…the bell from St.Mary’s chimes and makes me jump, it rings un rhythmically for about 20 seconds, then another bell rings, then another, like they are being tested individually, before being played together in a descending scale, slowly all of the birds stop singing and by the time the bells stop there are no bird sounds at all, it’s as if they have all flown away. First to sing again is the Wren but when the bells start again in full peal, only the Wren and Chiffchaff remain, the man in Wellies returns and his dog flaps its ears, light aircraft GECAR passes by having taken off from Earls Colne, at this time of year there isn’t much foliage to hide behind should one want to. The bird count was topped off with a Blackcap and Jay.

*Please excuse the distortion at some points during the windy gusts. Storm Dave proved a little too much for the Rycote windshield. It's new kit so I'm still discovering its limitations.* The sun, giver, but awkward to look in to, warmth, from plasma, that outside influence, fundamental, touching all, one way or another, influential, not circumstantial, two Mallards on the wing, we cannot comprehend how minuscule we are but some of the things that seem s so monumental just live within our minds or gut, fear, joy, religion, yet permeate all of our lived experience, through action not substance, a pheasant, Storm Dave touching us through the movement of air, (have we given storms names in order to have someone to blame?), the the subsequent movement of trees and plants, of clouds, some kind of large hovering bird of prey that I haven’t seen before, a marsh harrier maybe, the distant drone of a small motorbike, but refreshingly no other traffic, a jet, but the first one after 15 minutes, where are they going I wonder, the Heras fencing marks the death knell for that field, for all those that inhabit it such as moles, worms, spiders, butterflies, bees, beetles, aphids, centipedes, its a long list, all destroyed in order to build some houses that only the rich or private equity firms can afford, fierce local opposition hasn’t stopped the development from going ahead, green shoots on this broken willow, a carrion crow, fresh nettles full of fibre and nutrients, there have been 78,067 days, sunsets, nights, mornings since Constable stood/sat here and took int his view, not all of them a charming as this or then, but each with its own character, with it’s own sound tracks, formulation of clouds, that cloud looks like the letter C of a sports brand, and as much as I like to resist the corporate and capitalist machinations of advertising you can’t deny it’s impressive power, but the wind is changing it’s shape fast and now it looks like a Quaver, now it is two clouds disintegrating, three, entirely gone, when I look down I notice that my HD has had another problem and the filming has stopped, I formatted these specifically to iron out any problems after last times outing, more research and testing need to be done, some kind of Warbler, a man walking his dog, then stopping to ask some questions, I give his a business card in order to appease his curiosity and stop any further talking, a family walking a dog, the dog huffing, I’m not in the zone any more, just the place, maybe I should just sit and listen rather than trying to record as now that is becoming a distraction, anyone want to fund me to sit still listening? There are a lot of clouds forming now, but through the gapsI can see red light made by the suns light passing through the lighting gel of earths polluted atmosphere, everything experienced as light and sound filtered through air, and with all of these digital tools at our disposal there is no replacement for the real thing, especially with the wind that has suddenly picked up again and is being enjoyed again but the girls playing, leaning in to it, arms out as if trying to fly, somehow the birds communicate in this cacophony, so maybe that’s how they have adapted to man made noise in the environment. Now I think I recognised the man I gave a card to, and that he recognised me. Birds identified

Dedham Vale, near the Stour, laying in the grass, spring is returning and so are the tourists, and field recordists, warmth and aircraft, the familiar tropes of getting out and getting away, dog walkers are taking over the lanes, skylarks are taking over the airwaves. Is there any subcultures organising in the fields, events or gatherings of the natural, of the humankind, slow dancing on the paths, euphoric breathing of air, the waving of glow worms to the drop, meadowcore, earthstep, brisk jockeys of the wind, banger after banger, kissing gate and stile. A small aircraft acrobats in the misty blue, bees now bumble so it must be over 10ºC, returning to its nest, a hole, a home, a kit paying equal amount of attention to the ground but from its lofty view point, both have unequivocal access to the land, but it’s different to us, different rules for different animals, no division amongst non-governing species, for us its special, more complicated as a means to exclusion, ownership, Matalan posse in the hood, blue and brown hooded coats, just in case, sensible boots and socks with a spare pair in the boot, the soft cotton wool like clouds, forming to the left not to the right, as it should be, a blue puffer jacket more blue than the sky but less blue than lapis lazuli, everything taking a long time on this project, but I should see that as a blessing and something that I need to make use of, taking the time between nodes in order to push it further along, work in the background, like making a painting before putting it on display, EAT SLEEP PAINT REPEAT, but I’m not a painter, for me it would be more like EAT SLEEP SIT IN A FIELD LISTING TO SKYLARKS AND MEADOW PIPITS WHISLT CONTEMPLATING THE EXISTENTIAL SIGNIFICANCE OF A BLADE OF GRASS REPEAT, keep the wheels turning, poor rural service as usual so there is only one bus right now and I need to be on it, to go FURTHUR! Am I on it or not? I don’t have to try the Electric Cool Ade, but I do need to continue to join those synapses, walk the neural pathways, find the elusive skylarks of my mind, look down upon me like the kite to gain a new perspective, see the abundance of ideas and directions in which to follow them. Everything and everyone seems to be on a lunch break now, it’s super quiet, but perhaps that is a good thing, to be cherished, for a moment of calm, a brief respite fro the condinuum.

There is some smoke rising from near to Dedham Church, the village is about a mile away, visible through the mist, the clomp of two pairs of wellies, the sky a blanket of grey as it was yesterday, a skylark somewhere up in the gloom, a flotilla of gulls navigating the space occupied by a circling buzzard but leaving it well alone, trial bikes tear-arsing around somewhere nearby, a distant train, the footsteps of a mother and daughter, Blue Tit and jet compete for attention but their differing frequencies mean there is room for both, a flock of geese. Grey and green the livery of today, in this place right here right now I’m completely un-mithered, helped by the fact that I remember that a gorgeous person gave me a slab of sea salt and caramel chocolate earlier, it is slightly soft from being in my pocket so I leave it out on my bag to firm up a bit, the wind picks up but it is neither cold nor warm, pins and needles are starting in my legs so I have to get up, quietly I check the recording but that’s never quiet enough, 32 minutes, I need a more comfortable stool, a couple talking that stop as they walk by, (Great! A sneeze and cough, I’m doing well being quiet today!), a bumble bee, the smoke in the town is increasing, maybe driven by the increase in wind speed, the mic stand clonks so I need to make sure it is done up tightly in the future, a jogger spotted in my peripheral vision, suddenly my focus shifts and I’m not now in the moments of thought but in the reality of being here outside, in a field, alone, with all my kit, wearing black and blue, my uniform of today. (Thankfully there are no bombs falling here, this is a privilege to be able to sit here unbothered in the landscape, but could my time be better used to fight the system that destroys the lives of others? Would the people living under the terrible conditions imposed on them just enjoy their lives and follow their dreams if things were different? Why is it that the citizens always suffer the most? Their lives and livelihoods taken from them by missies paid for by taxpaying citizens just like them but from another country! I don’t really think that countries work. Or moreover, the concept of them is abused in order to control the people within them. It’s like an open prison.) The smoke from the fire now completely obscures the church from view, there is some definition in the sheet of grey cloud, two people on a distant path stopping to look at something, then carrying on, I see the skylark dancing in the sky, singing in the drone of the background noise, in front of me, a short song before darting to ground, the show is over but it is not for me, three people silently walk past, a stone in the earth with an unknown untold story millions of years long, a leaf next to it with a story no longer than a year.

I wasn’t early enough, by 10 minutes, as the bellringers started about 9:40, the intel from Dennis was slightly wrong. A lady walking through the graveyard shouted ‘Happy Recording!’ before I was actually recording, the headphones disconnected (wireless) after 5 minutes so I was unable to monitor the sound, the bells clipped a bit at the beginning of the recording as they were so loud even at about 30 feet away (they are usually way up in a tower projecting across town rather than at ground level), a good chat to the East Bergholt Ringers that were In favour of the recording and passed details of local people to speak to, sounds from the town masked out the sounds of the aircraft which makes a pleasant change from the aircraft masking out the sounds of nature, organ and singing of hymns coming from inside the Church, they tyres of SUVs roaring past, a white unidentified flying feather hovering in the graveyard for 20 seconds before floating to the ground, a young man wearing a wind cheater in the rain. The Pied Wagtail of Bergholt the Pied Piper ​made me realise as I watched it twitching its tail from on top of a gravestone that nature is a huge improvised ensemble that could at any moment produce a flourish a drone a rhythm a fill a chorus a crescendo a pause and that beauty that exists in a moment that only you witness and then is gone unseen by anyone else go to it and sit quietly until it comes to you meet it half way go to a concert of improvised music to hear, see a recreation an imitation of the same process in the best way that we know how. all music is historical unless it is being created right in the moment be in the space where it is being made to get an unfiltered experience natural sound is the same listen to it without inhibition raw, real and undiluted the predetermined controlled mapped out plan of conformity to life is as far away from this as being locked in prison.

As part of the Constable Ambisonic project I want to understand how we perceive the landscape, and what did Constable and his contemporaries bring to our understanding of the natural world, and who else has contributed to the language used and ideals we hold in regard to perception of landscape. Here I talk to artist and artist and broadcaster Wendy Bailey to discuss the project more broadly.

Idling ships upon the bay, moving windsurfers upon the bay, my travelling companion and good friend Al laying in the grass making some art and chatting to the walkers on the path, restarting the recording as there was a hum, a hiking couple, hiking man craning his neck to have a look from 200m away, I’m suddenly self conscious about my choice of bright jumper in an overcast scene, must buy green, grasses are my favourite plant as they evoke summer, a wildness and understated strength and resilience. Chitter chatter in the hillside habitat, two hikers descending the path next to where I am sat, a young couple in urban gear, a coach coming down the lane at the top of the hill, the steely blue of Weymouth Bay scratched by the wake of a small fishing boat, a man with binoculars, in this unfamiliar place I’m mostly noticing surface activities and fixtures and not engaged with or thinking about deeper considerations, accepting it more on face value than underlying narratives or other social contexts, which is how we might look at a painting, for its composition, materials or techniques, but of course it was made within, or maybe influenced by the socio-economic or political climate at the time, the coach returning back up the lane, a ship starting its engine, Portland. The sighting of one bird by one person at one place at one time with millions of years of evolution of different strands and billions of potential probabilities happen, and then it was gone in a second, a man noticing that I have headphones on, a beam of sunlight on the water, the active society of birds, a hiking party some of whom are not wearing blue, some fast 4/4 beats (135bpm) from car on the lane, more light making its way through the clouds and defining a difference between the sky and there sea, anxiously waiting tpfor the hour signal from my friend. Birds identified are Skylark, Wren, Meadow Pipit, Greenfinch, Pheasant, Blackbird, Siskin, Long Tailed Tit, Goldcrest, Dunnock, Pied Wagtail, Cetti's warbler, Robin, Linnet and Goldfinch.

As part of the Constable Ambisonic project I want to understand how we perceive the landscape, and what did Constable and his contemporaries bring to our understanding of the natural world, and who else has contributed to the language used and ideals we hold in regard to perception of landscape. Here I talk to artist and photographer Alan Hockett whilst sitting in a car after having been to the site of Constable's 'Weymouth Bay from the Downs above Osmington Mills'. We discuss a variety of topics including new towns, edge lands, the Leisure Class, our childhood playgrounds, and of course, Constable.

Diners with trays of food and drinks from the cafe, the air con unit drone, this year is a ‘mast year’ for local trees which can be evidenced by the abundance of acorns on the ground, mast years are possibly a way that trees work together to create more fruit/seeds in one year that can possibly be eaten by seed eating animals and increasing the likely hood of seedlings growing next year, peduncle, the aircon clicks off, geese, lots of interest in the microphone as it’s in a very public place but I keep a low profile, conversations of diners, a dog barking, trays being returned to the rack, a tiny twister picking up leaves, hikers in brown boots and blue jumpers, the kissing gate slamming sound travelling on the wind, a lady carrying a bag full of poo, two dog bowls at different heights, my coffee finished, as is the flapjack, Table 123, walking sticks, ‘John!’, John acknowledging where his party are seated, the smell of soup, the Site Manager coming over for a chat about the weekends workshop, a pile of bricks, two yard bags on pallets, ‘Hort Loam’ printed on the site of one of them, two men being curious about the mic. A never-ending stream of people, interested, curious, wanting to explore, experience and learn. They’re passing by here, passing, being born, passing by and passing again. Here is still here but for how long will the cycle continue? Slowly the cafe activity is winding down towards closure and as the localised sound dies down sound from further afield can reach us, such as a tractor ploughing a the field. The Flatford Accessible Shuttle Citroen electric vehicle, a woman carrying a bunch of yellowing oak leaves, a man opening and closing the gate for the car to pass through, it has slightly flat tyres, a conversation about birds that I don’t quite catch, chairs in the cafe being rearranged, cutlery being moved on the collected trays, a puff of wind moving all of the leaves at once but only by a couple of inches, the door to ‘back stage’ being closed by Maddie, a very slow wheezing pug in a blue harness, a window being closed, a door being bolted, the last diners leaving the garden, a moment of reflection. The earth wearing lands cape Land belongs We long to live Live to die Die to land the dream of love Love of another The other is wise Wise of words Words escape A cape of good hope But we’ll need much more than that. Birds identified (in the full hour recording) are Dunnock, Robin, Goldfinch, Greenfinch, Long Tailed Tit, Mallard, Great Tit, Magpie Wren and Spotted Flycatcher!

A landscape, at noon. A man jogging with his dog, and man and woman chatting on the bench next to the Field Studies Centre, the mill pond has been cleared of weed and algae, and most of the vegetation has been trimmed making it easier to see the path of the water between the trees, spider threads drifting and glinting in the sun, Moorhens running on the water, the chatting pair heading back, about three minutes where I could hear no people, no engines, just the occasional bird in the stillness that accompanies a hot blast of sun, as near as I can imagine it might have sounded like in 1821, minus workings from the Mill. - A mill pond where all the fiscal solutions gather to stagnate. A woman on a mobility scooter says ‘I want to take a picture!’, a man taking photo from the same place as the mic but doing so carefully, I’m waiting for the coach load of tourists I saw earlier to arrive and in a few minutes they arrive, following their guide, two ladies ignoring the history lesson and having their own conversation, an airplane overhead, a dragonfly, too many conversations from splinter groups to make out the tour guide. - The cold breeze of authoritarianism across one's face. The perfume of photographers, ‘Grapes on the vine there, look!’, an Amazon delivery driver with two parcels for eat FSC, a lady with pink coat, stockings, scarf and hair getting her phot taken sitting o the wall, a cheeky remark by her friend, ‘We haven’t disturbed your peace, have we?’, ‘No, you’re fine’ I reply, jackdaws on the chimney of Willy Lott’s House, the tourists slowly dissipating, a moments peace before a bunch of students pile out of Flatford Mill, a couple taking in different views bump in to each other, table and chairs being dragged across floorboards, a dude with a Stetson, ducks ducking. - The hard sunbaked ideologies of mainstream media. With all of the activity it hard to tell the position of the hour as it’s gone to the head and not now in the body, a screaming child, a growling dog, a Chiselhurst and Sidcup Grammar School bus, a bush full of orange berries, a Buzzard Calling, student wheeling suitcases, a new party of tourists with a different guide, a lady apologising for the intrusion, I ask another lady for the time, and she says ‘Twenty five past 12’, so I got to 55 minutes again, the students walking back again dragging their suitcases, a cormorant flying overhead, a woman walking past the ‘PRIVATE’ sign. - Erosion of societies fundamentals falling in to the sea.

It’s been a long trek on public transport to get here, and a bit stressful on the Tube with all of the tripods and kit bag, that has put in to perspective a few things. It would have taken Constable, everyone, a lot longer to get around. For instance Constable used to walk from East Bergholt to Stratford St.Mary to catch the Stagecoach, which would then take 9-12 hours, conditions permitting, to get to London. Also on this project I’m working relatively close to home and have a car so can reach nearly everywhere pretty easily. Yes, I know that I’m having an impact and I have been weighing up the value of my work versus the impact I am having on the natural world. This work isn’t solely for me, but will be a sonic record for use by anyone in the future, under a Creative Commons licence. My carbon footprint, though quite large as much as car runs on petrol, is considerably less than a Shahed drone, from manufacture to deployment, and I feel that these recordings offer a somewhat more positive contribution to society than those. Still, it’s important to evaluate why and for whom I am doing this work, any work, and the benefits and side effect thereof. This triangle of land between roads and off of the main body of Hampstead Heath is rather sedate and affords a calm spot amongst the bustle of the city. Parakeets, car horns, a helicopter, a couple walking their dogs, a jet overhead banking in to the clouds that are gorgeous shades of blue grey. A golden labrador being stroked by some strangers, a slow 4/4 beat (approx 115bpm) in the distance, women with jackets tied around their waists, two girls questioning what was worth filming over there, a woman talking on ‘hands free’, the pulse in my knee making my crossed leg bounce up and down, the bench plaque reading ’34º43’34.8”N 139º23’41.1”E’, laughter coming from the couple on the bench along the way, a woman waiting for her dog to do a poo, lot’s of gilets on the edge of Hampstead and it makes sense that building stopped before the steep slope here, people waling behind me, pairs of people stopping to check their phones so maybe there is a Pokemon Go here, an invisible layer of the world bringing members of a different community to this corner of the world. There are lots of layers, digital, geological, social, historical, atmospheric, all relevant to the same ‘place’. A heron, a beech leaf with a hole in it, some loud angry talking followed by some sirens, it's always about this time in a recording I’m feeling the need for some punctuation so maybe this is it, a different siren, a man in a cap pacing up and down, the cloud slowly thinning and more light reaching down to Earth, girls with coffees, a Vespa, a man whistling for his dog, a woman with a dog waving to the whistling man, they are pleased to see each other, the man has treats, a small boy on a bike stopping right in front of the mic, his father calling him away in possibly Italian. My body clock is a bit anxious today as it guessed at 55 minutes, a fire engine, leaves are falling from the trees at about 5 per minute (within my limited field of view), a man with a blue helmet on a bike gets off of his bike and heads down the track in front of the camera. I wonder if Constable was spoken to, questioned, viewed suspiciously, had his motive interrogated by members of the public whilst out capturing the landscape, I have over the years and with sound its easy to appease people’s suspicions but with image I imagine it will be more difficult. I’m sure I will find out. Two lads stop talking as they pass by the mic and resume further along the path. Birds identified are Magpie, Sparrow, Wren, Great Tit, Dunnock, Robin and Chiffchaff.

Yesterday a storm front blew in and passed over head. In front of it the warm summer air and behind it the cooler air of autumn. I didn’t realise until it had passed but the difference was clear and defining. Today the wind is feisty, autumnal, and its effects on the trees dominates the sonic space. Imagine being a tree, or a nomad, constantly at the mercy of the elements. No wonder the leaves are browning, yellowing, reddening, having endured months of intense sunlight, rain, wind, with no respite. Those fragile paper thin structures, so hardy. I have come on a Friday to avoid the hordes, families, paddleboarders, dog owners, smokers, and sometimes that’s just one person, screaming, splashing, smiling, relaxing. Living. But that’s not for me. I prefer the quiet solitude of off-peak. I usually prefer off-piste too, but this project is otherwise, out of my comfort zone and into the spotlight, but doing what I enjoy most. Pond skaters, ducks, the weir letting the Stour trickle through, holding it back, keeping it slow and steady, like the rental revenue on those flats in the Mill building. It is a different mill to in Constable’s time, but still. It stands as a monument to industry, labour, the effort of those generations making their daily bread, surviving, working for the man. It is strange that in just one spot, place, so many decisions, influences, powers, monies, have come to gather to make a once navigable river to transport goods, from Mistley, where seagoing vessels were unloaded on to Lighters (barges) as far inland as the ‘port’ of Sudnury. And then to transport different goods in the reverse direction. Just a few decades later and it was superseded by the railways. A man on a strange paddle board/seagoing kayak/super yacht hybrid, lots of berries on the trees in readiness for winter, some harsh pruning. He notices me, and the kit, and studies us for a while before paddling off. I have swam in this mill pond several times but the water quality is too bad now, my trunks staying put in their new drawer for a good few months yet. ‘Danger: Deep Water’. I hope someone is in deep water and that CEO’s the land over are carrying the can for the unacceptable state of the Countries waterways. A woman in a puffer jacket taking a photograph across the pond, a damsel fly, which is one of the 22 species on this river, I am unable to tell which, a woman jogging, fish making swirls on the waters surface, a dark cloud covering the sun and turning off the heat. ​One day this place will not be here, and all of the memories of it will be gone. A sock in a tree, a bus heading to Dedham, a motorbike, those with the loudest mouths, exhausts, will be remembered, a man looking at the mic as he goes by, two people all dressed in blue with binoculars, the fish trying to catch flies just above the waters surface, a couple that I have seen four times walking their dog but the man walks ahead followed by the dog pulling the woman reluctantly along, a strimmer or maybe a hedge trimmer. Watch the whole hour on YouTube https://youtu.be/clQXSbnL3DY

Sunday morning in town, its a bit breezy, people making the shortcut through the graveyard, a flock of pigeons or Rock Doves as they used to be called, air con units, aircraft heading away from London, a lady whose perfume I detected before I saw her, I feel like I have to behave differently in this urban environment as I can’t blend in to being a tourist, I’m more on guard, a man asking if he was in my way, I wave him through, people aren’t here to look at the attraction they’re on their way to somewhere else so why would I be sitting in a graveyard with a lot of recording kit on a Sunday morning feeling vulnerable? The concerned man walks back through the other way with a drink less concerned this time, a car with loud music travelling down Queen Street, a gull, a man sneezing, ‘Morning!’ said a man who took a photograph of the ruins, and exclaiming child in a push chair. It’s warm on the outside, warm on the in, I can feel the effects of my (non-psychedelic) mushroom gummy, my 21st day of sobriety, I made it to 47 days last time so let’s see how I get on, I do have more clarity but I also feel slightly removed from some situations, its a new feeling as I take a step in to the next stage of my life, leaving a lot of things behind, embracing the new, and trying to be kinder to myself, a Robin, a man running, a woman on a phone call, the Rock Doves taking to the air and flying past the microphone, someone clapping, the shadows moving slowly but perceptibly, dapples, gravestones with names eroded away over time, a lady with a Nirvana t-shirt, I’m writing more today as I have my head down as a defence mechanism, not wanting to engage with passers by, the wind has died down a bit but I only notice as it picks up and moves the trees, a lady in her Sunday best, the fragrance of a woman after I have seen her, a man with a hand in his pocket, the Robin again, I need to take some tips from this experience as I’ll be recording in Ipswich Town Centre soon where I imagine there will be lots of passers by, I have done lots of urban recording before but not with film, and not for as long durations, Church bells but from further away than St.Botolphs, a motorbike, the Church bell of St.Botolphs, nearer with longer intervals whilst the further faster bells still play, here it sounds like a ‘Campanology Course for People with No Sense of Timing’, a Jay, a cough, curious children, a man with crocs who says ‘Allo mate!’ but wasn’t talking to me, people wearing all black even though it is still really summery, a man with a striped t-shirt, a woman with a spotty dress, at first it was interesting that the soundscape was punctuated with a bell nearby and somewhat haphazard but now it’s annoying that they haven’t got any better and it hasn’t formed in to a one note polyrhythmic masterpiece, the Robin’s warning call, some lads being laddish, a woman with blue hair. Piece of Paper Under the arch Sheltering Then after 10 minutes Wheels across the path to the grass Someone let it go without screwing it up Which is rare Gave it a chance to leave To go on its own To seek sanctuary Within the confines of wherever the wind takes it We could all learn a lesson from that.

Tourists taking photos, a woman coming from the Mill Residencies, a man singing, a chat about exam results, a man getting his photo taken with a baby, I’m featuring in people’s photographs, or influencing their decision not to take one, being in ‘the’ spot means that others also gravitate there, pause to get ‘the’ shot, then leave, voices of sports players drift on the wind, bicycles on the gravel, one of the cyclists singing, people waiting on the other bench getting bored waiting for me to move on so they go off in a huff, a cormorant, a light aircraft, tourists being dropped off by a Toyota EV, a man asking if the recording kit is mine, the tourists taking longer to get in the car than they were looking at the view, distant motor bikes, Moorhen, sitting on the bench in memory or Edna Cartwright, wood pigeons flitting from tree to the chimney on Willy Lott’s House, two cars, one coming in and one going out, jackdaws, the lad from the car coming in walking past and going in to Mill House, dog growling at the mic, a Kite ridind the wind. As the world burns, fights, suffers, warms, society slowly implodes, capitalism collapses, doubles down, genocide is administered, famine engineered, drones are optimised for warfare, billions syphoned away from social needs, people exploited, trafficked, abused, killed, left to rot or fend for themselves, resources mined, the earth torn apart, extracted, refined, manufactured, advertised, marketed, sold, used, thrown away. All of that is happening right now, everywhere, except here. Here there are people making memories, sharing time together, making the most of the late warm summer afternoon, getting a glimpse of the chocolate box, the Moorhen wrestling with some weed, Willy Lott’s Cottage, of the ladies blue hair. Sheltered, protected, preserved, presented. Sheltering me, protecting me, preserving me, presenting me, as the chocolate box? There is always a chocolate that is the least favoured, but less weight gained by not eating those. ​The high whispy clouds of this tranquil vista visible but out of reach could easily be the smoke of destruction a screen to hide the horrors behind heavens and hells are the same ideology but from the view points of the perpetrators or victims. Full version now on Youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_yxmbopr_7Y

As part of the Constable Ambisonic project I want to understand how we perceive the landscape, and what did Constable and his contemporaries bring to our understanding of the natural world, and who else has contributed to the language used and ideals we hold in regard to perception of landscape. Here I talk to my mum, Terri Bowditch to try to understand how we came to live in the semi-rural town Essex market town, and how that affected my life growing up in the 1970's and 80's, in comparison to North West London where they had moved from.

As part of the Constable Ambisonic project I want to understand how we perceive the landscape, and what did Constable and his contemporaries bring to our understanding of the natural world, and who else has contributed to the language used and ideals we hold in regard to perception of landscape. Here I talk to artist and printmaker David Stone at the Cuckoo Farm Print Workshop, Colchester.

This recording has come about by my activities on the Constable Ambisonic project, where I'll be making ambisonic sound recordings of 20 locations of paintings by John Constable. https://www.constableambisonic.co.uk/ As I explore and reacquaint myself with 'Constable Country' I have been recording in a variety of locations in and around the Dedham Vale. This recording was made on a footpath leading up the hill from Fen Bridge Lane in East Bergholt on a lovely warm sunny afternoon. The first bird that I heard as I started walking to the site was a cuckoo and soon many more birds joined the throng, including Reed Bunting, Wren, Blackbird, Chiffchaff, Song Thrush, Robin, Skylark, Whitethroat, Goldfinch, Blue Tit, Cuckoo, Chaffinch, Stonechat, Linnet, Dunnock, Blackcap, Crow, Pheasant, Great Tie, Greylag Goose and Magpie. As much as my birding skills are improving I still rely heavily on the excellent Merlin Bird App https://merlin.allaboutbirds.org

I was in Bournemouth on an assignment but arrived early to have a mooch about the town. I hadn't visited since 1999 and that was under the cover of darkness as we were going raving at an all nighter, although I forget which club it was we went to. What I do remember is that it was the first time I heard the Ferry Corsten remix of William Orbit's version of Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings. Anyway, I digress. Today it was calm and the sea had large gentle swells with non-boarded paddle boarders bobbing about. I loitered about under the zip line that goes from a tower at the end of the pier to the beach and after a few minutes some excited peoples zipped overhead.

Myself and good friend Matt Shenton went on a well overdue trudge around the edge of Old Hall Marshes near Tollesbury. It's an RSPB site, so we were looking forward to hearing, seeing, recording, some birds, but as the car park is closed on weekends (doh!) we had a extra mile or so walk to get to the site. it was windy and fresh, but with a hint of warmth. Was good to take in heady lung fulls of muddy salt marsh air. Once we got there Matt recorded a fence with his contact mics and I sat quietly near the borrowdyke listening to a plethora of birds. There was however a lot of aircraft activity, which when looking at the Flight Radar app there was a light airplane doing a lot of small loops around Copford, and an Airbus 330 flying from Frankfurt to Cancun, amongst others. You can however revel in the delightful sounds of Sedge Warblers, Whitethroat, Wren, Chiffchaff, Swallow, Reed Bunting, Goldfinch, Blackcap, Greenfinch, Yellow Wagtail, Pheasant and Robin.