Jim Manson

I’m not sure if retroactive blogging really is in the spirit of the thing. But looking at this photograph again, and remembering the mildly surprising circumstances of its making, prompts a post-dated observation.

It’s late afternoon in early February. We’ve spent the day in the top floor Conference Suite at the Hotel Metropole Brighton.

The strategy day is over. The flip chart pages have been torn off and the marker pens collected up. A solitary bourbon remains on the once abundant biscuit plate.

I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors and slide them open an inch or two. Cold sea air sluices into the room and hits four star fug. I step out onto the balcony and slide the door behind me.

Inside, the team are folding their course notes into handbags and backpacks and debating the merits of a wind-down beer in the bar. Outside a phantasmagoric vision is forming over the English Channel. It’s invisible to everyone in the room, who just see the garishly lit conference suite reflected back at them.