To be honest this is more of an archive facility so I can track any improvements and open up the floor to constructive critiques but some people may enjoy their content too!
The first entry is a 500 word travel piece submitted to the Telegraph's 'Just Back' competition.
Before you dive into the mucky waters of my experience in Spain's southern town of Ronda it may be worth remembering that I would not call myself a travel writer. Traditionally I have only written fiction and, reading back through this, I do get a sense of this creeping through.
Anyway, I'll let you share your own thoughts.
Peering over the new bridge and into the chasm below I see almost nothing but the darkened walls of sheer rock on either side. Ronda is an elegant, historic town but one of the main features, spanning both sides and from which I now cling firmly to, is the bridge.
It’s a hallmark of this town, but my guide explains that this was not the first bridge to straddle the infamous gorge. The first lasted only six years before it collapsed, its remains still visible in the gently protruding arch now supporting the newer structure. Cut off before venturing too far from its foundations this is almost the only remnant of a failed monument. The only other reminder present today is the plaque behind me that names everyone involved in the doomed project.
Being here on work I do not have much time to drink in the sites of this stunning town. Ronda’s commanding presence upon the cliff top provides views that would be an attraction in their own right but it is the history that draws me from the new bridge and leads me along the winding cobbled streets, down the steady slope towards the river. Those same cobbles shine with the footfalls of the thousands of other visitors that have graced these streets throughout the years, good footwear essential.
Past the derelict house of the Moorish King, home of the Minas (Mine) and a source of constant speculation surrounding any future renovation, I head towards an interesting building. Four figurines carved from the stone above the door stare into the distance. Two on each side, one of each pair has its naked body exposed and mouth wide open, tongue protruding, the other has its hands placed over the crotch, mouth closed. My guide tells me this represents the Spanish influence on native America and its conversion to Christianity.
Further down we stop and overlook the old bridge. The second of three bridges this leads into a very picturesque area of Ronda used in the filming of Carmen (apparently) but the view also opens the chapter in Spanish history that seems harder to detect. From this vantage point I see the oldest of the three bridges, the Arab bridge and our destination, the Arab baths, but not before descending the original Arab stairway.
Having explored the engineering brilliance of baths that contain Roman columns as decor my guide explains, upon questioning, a rivalry that exists between Ronda and Seville. The source of this? The Bullring.
It appears that each hold theirs as the finest example in Spain. Seville’s may be bigger but Ronda’s is the oldest and is the only one to use stone from the cliffs in its construction a point that prompts my guide to puff his chest out in pride.
Sadly my visit to the oldest Bullring in Spain will have to wait until tomorrow. More hours have passed than I thought and a dinner with a far less interesting client awaits.
