Years ago I lived in Bristol and worked on the press agency South West News Service. Whilst there, I was assigned to photograph the Bristol Balloon Fiesta which was a lot of fun. But in the intervening years I've never had the chance until the weekend just passed.
The Fiesta is much bigger now and very professionally organised but the smooth sensation of hot-air ballooning hasn't changed a bit.
The Fiesta is much bigger now and very professionally organised but the smooth sensation of hot-air ballooning hasn't changed a bit.
The press team introduced me to Colin, one of the pilots from Cameron Balloons who had kindly offered a to take me on a flight so I could get shots for the Independent on Sunday.
We rose steadily into crisp morning air, floating over the city that used to be my home.
Colin seemed rather underwhelmed as I pointed out the landmarks of my former life. The offices on Hotwells where I learned my trade. A few of my favourite haunts - even the hill where I was thrown in front of a moving car by the co-designer of a famous middle-eastern weapon of mass destruction after I had tried to photograph him as part of a Sunday Times investigation.
Ah, the carefree days of youth!
As we passed the south-western suburbs of the city our intended landing area was lit by a shaft of light breaking through the clouds.
Gliding silently but for the occasional roar of the heater, I felt completely 'meshed-in'...
Gliding silently but for the occasional roar of the heater, I felt completely 'meshed-in'...
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