My Father taught me to sail. I was pretty young and found it very frustrating. I remember us screaming at each other across the water, me thrashing about with the tiller and ropes, he leaning out from the family cruiser holding a glass of wine and a cigar. I raced dinghies throughout my early teens and won some trophies. My Father said, rightly, that I lost interest in sailing when I discovered girls. I've only sailed once or twice in the intervening years but I've always wanted to take my wife and daughter sailing. I finally did so during a recent Easter holiday in Devon. We had found a cottage through the internet. It hadn't mentioned the busy road right behind the house but the estuary came right up to the back door and the view was ever changing and lovely. We launched the dinghy I had also rented on the internet and very cautious of my role as captain I explained what I was doing and what they had to do as we sailed away from the house. The dinghy had big sails and the hills funneled the wind through the middle of the estuary. I could see that they were a bit frightened as the boat lurched over alarmingly. It was many years since I had last sailed and I was surprised at how much concentration and energy it took. We didn't capsize and soon arrived at a sheltered beach where we skimmed stones, made sculptures from washed up plastic bottles and watched the sparkling reflections of the low sun. On the last day I took the boat out on my own, it was fun for a while but then the wind dropped and the old sense of frustration crept back as I was forced to paddle against the falling tide

I've been to Tokyo two or three times but this was the first time I had come on my own. I was there to check the progress of a commissioned work and was only staying for a few days. Much of the time I was looked after by my Japanese gallerists but I had some time to myself. I found restaurants and favorite shops that I remembered from previous trips. I went for long walks and used the underground to visit museums and art galleries. It felt unusual being alone and I was reminded of how it was to be single and to wish for someone with whom to share observations and pleasures. On my final evening I went out to photograph the city at night. It began to rain steadily and I had decided to head back when I came across a cemetery. It was on my route and seemed to be open so I wandered through looking at the gravestones. Something jumped near my feet and when it moved into the light of a street lamp I saw it was an enormous frog or toad, bigger than any I had ever seen. It looked wet and heavy and very alive. Walking on I saw that the grave yard was full of them

Taking a break from installing a show in Stockholm, my wife and I had gone shopping in the Old Town. We came across an antique shop selling Russian Icons that I really liked. They were only a hundred or so years old but reminded me of early Renaissance paintings, like those of Duccio or Cimabue. There was one of a Madonna and child set behind a sculpted silver background that I particularly liked. At the time I didn't have the courage to buy one but had promised myself that if the exhibition went well, I would. A year passed and I returned to Stockholm, this time on my own on a day trip. I was there to photograph three people in order to make their portraits. To my surprise the gallerist asked me to make a portrait of himself as well. I took this extra commission as a sign that I should splash out and buy the Icon. As soon as the photo session was over I headed off along the harbor front. I had a lot of trouble finding the antique shop and when I finally located it, it was closed. There was a sign in the window that someone translated for me. It said the owner would return in a half hour. I was running out of time to get back to the airport but I wandered around and bought some presents for my family. The shop remained deserted so eventually I gave up and left to catch my plane.