Last week I saw around my home in Bath a fox, a doormouse, a hedgehog, a green woodpecker, Peter Bowles, a Ronnie Wood lookalike and, resplendent in his socks and sandals, walking towards Pulteney Weir, Martin Parr.
The West of England is a small place, so Martin's easy to bump into (I think there may be more than one of him) - here is a picture I took of Martin when I bumped into him in Clifton, the outrageously snooty and twee (it's tweer than Bath - it is, it is, it is!) suburb of Bristol that Martin calls his home.
