Nobody that I know really understood what I meant when I said that I was going on a course to learn abstract calligraphy. It is very hard to describe.

Even I was unsure what I was letting myself in for when I booked to go to Tuscany for a week's workshop on the meeting of eastern and western calligraphic styles with Monica Dengo and Satsuki Hatsushima, from Italy and Japan respectively.

Ten days before I was due to set off I got a severe case of cold feet. I was worried by the programme notes that described a visit to view handwriting styles in medieval manuscripts at the local Sansepolcro archive. It sounded deadly serious, and far removed from what I had in mind from my knowledge of Monica's work.

I almost cancelled, but fortunately had my mind put at ease by a fellow photographer who happened to be doing the workshop 2 weeks ahead of me.

In order to get there I passed through Florence. I have never been to Florence, so decided to to take two days to explore the city before catching my train eastwards to Arezzo, and then Sansepolcro.

I knew Florence has a reputation for being busy. I had not realised how busy. I found myself heading away from the city centre, across the river, to the Boboli Gardens for a bit of peace and quiet. I found the strangest of lemons in the lemon garden.

I also found some beautiful roses with a perfect backdrop of washed blue paint. I was happy.

Obviously, there is a lot of very important art to see in Florence. On day two, having walked my legs off, I summoned the energy to face the Uffizi Gallery. I know practically nothing about Renaissance art. Michelangelo and  Botticelli were the only names that I really knew; two spectacularly famous artists, that I had never really appreciated other than when reading, many years ago, 'The Agony and the Ecstasy', the 1961 biographical novel about Michelangelo, written by Irving Stone.

I still remember vividly the story describing Michelangelo, as a boy, being given a large block of marble and chipping away at it from the outside in to create a figure.  I find this extraordinary; to have a vision of the outcome and be able to gradually work to achieve it by a process of removal rather than by addition as in so many other forms of art.

I found the art works in the Uffizi Gallery vibrant and beautiful, and was glad that I went as I can't see myself returning to a city where it is difficult to negotiate the streets due to the crowds.

Onwards then, to the real reason for my trip.

To Sansepolcro, a peaceful, walled, 11th century commune, with cobbled streets and some more famous art. This time by Pierro della Francesca. Another famous artist that I had never heard of, who lived and died in Sansepolcro.

To the arts centre where I found a room beautifully laid out ready for 16 participants, with walls to die for in pastel shades of plaster and paint.

And so began seven days of joy.

Exhausting and intense, but filled with laughter , experimentation and production.

We made marks in the traditional Japanese way, in a traditional western italic style, and then blended the two in many different ways.

Between lessons I feasted on peaches, tomatoes, mozarella and meatballs. Mascarpone and cantucci. Japanese snacks and plenty of herbal tea.

We made marks to different soundtracks.

I looked at the outcomes and knew that my family would think I was mad.

They were expecting traditional calligraphy.

The medieval manuscripts were old and fancy, and unlike those in the UK, I was surprised  that we were allowed to touch them. This was said to be because the content of these ancient ledgers was of no great historic significance.

I  looked at them for a while, and then wandered off to look at the walls downstairs.

What I hadn't realised from reading my daily programme was how exciting the next visit would be. A visit to the Burri museum a few miles away in Cita di Castello.

Well, not really a museum. More of an extraordinary modern art collection housed in an old tobacco drying warehouse. The work of just one local artist; Alberto Burri. I had never heard of him. Ignorance is my specialty.

Correctly named as the  Fondazione Palazzo Albizzini Collezione Burri » Ex Seccatoi del Tabacco, the building was vast. The art was dramatic and themed by colour.

I soaked it all up. Black, black and gold, multicoloured ; each in vast rooms that eventually became overwhelming, but which definitely impacted my work later in the week. The simplicity appealed immensely.

As the week progressed our tables became stacked with a multitude of papers covered in ink. Different papers, different tools. Many different styles and looks.

I was happiest with my marks made with a feather.

I also spent a long time experimenting with ways to write the word mountain as an ideogram, using western letters but in a Japanese style.

Meanwhile, Satsuki wrote the word 'mountain' with a very large brush in Japanese style onto brown paper, working on the floor.

I think my family would understand this a bit better.

By the end of the week we had turned some of our many papers and writings into hand made books. This was a challenge in such a short space of time.

Normally my books are the product of many hours thinking and experimenting. Some take months to make. The books I made in Sansepolcro were different, in that they were not created with any important message to convey. What they did do was to convey my own personal take on the ideas that we had assimilated during the week.

And what does all this have to do with being an 'outdoor' photographer? Obviously not much...... but......

It is a fine example of the pleasure to be had by jumping out of a particular creative 'box' into a new one; of the joy of trying new things, and of learning new techniques that feed new ideas. It is also a way to meet a wonderful bunch of people from all around the world.

The adventure was also a reminder that cold feet are normal when stepping out of one's comfort zone, and to just 'do it' anyway. Son would have told me that if I had asked.....

And when son asks me whether I have become less fit for our upcoming alpine adventure during my week of messing around with ink on paper, I can tell him that whilst having so much fun I also found time to do a little workout every day in my rooftop apartment. Just don't tell the landlady that I used the bedspread as my yoga mat.

Despite not being 'up' a mountain I felt on top of the world.

And finally, don't tell ANYONE that I never made it to see the artworks by Piero della Francesca in the Civic Museum. They would be truly shocked......

I did find a wonderful vegetable garden on the city wall though. The artichokes were spectacular!

Do you ever find it hard to define what sort of artist or photographer you are?

I know I do. I used to say landscape photographer. Then it became abstract landscape photographer. Then I added book artist. More recently it has been abstract environmental landscape photographer and book artist. Now that that phase too is passing I no longer really know what to say. Maybe just artist is enough.

A few weeks ago I saw a gardening programme on TV from Spain; with Monty Don, about Valencia. He cycled down the Turia river bed  which is now a long urban park, running through the heart of the city, under ancient bridges and heading out to sea. The Turia  river was diverted away from the city after devastating floods in 1957. On his way through the park he passed the City of the Arts and Sciences development, designed by the architect Santiago Calatrava, and built in the late 1990's. Just like the Guggenheim in Bilbao, it is one of the twelve treasures of Spain.

As soon as I saw this modern complex and the riverbed Turia park I had a burning desire to pay a visit. Modern architecture draws me more than any ancient cathedral or museum. I wanted to to go. Now!

So I arranged a trip. All by myself.

I knew that if I was going to a city the only way to spend as much time as I wished in the places that I chose, was to go alone. No one that I know would wish to spend hours visiting and revisiting a few chosen sites. My other half (OH) would have me on a whistlestop tour of all the sights before I could object. My friends would want to stop at cafes and restaurants at regular intervals. I just wanted to walk, discover and think. OH was busy with work trips, so what better time to pop south for a few warmer days before the intense heat of the Spanish summer.

I wanted to think about what sort of photographer I was going to be if I no longer wanted to make work about litter.

Which I definitely don't any more. I have finally got it out of my system.

I wondered whether I should be a travel photographer. One that doesn't do churches and museums, but who walks and explores.

I do travel widely, thanks to my family spreading themselves across the globe. I thought about how I could portray Valencia. The old, the new, the green spaces, the street art. All of these were possibilities.

I started in the botanical gardens; just a short walk from my accomodation, and a gentle entry into my 3 day trip after an early start and the desire to find a calm location after a day of travel.

It was peaceful and green. The harsh sunlight made photographing outdoors a challenge. I found some plants indoors. Outside was more prickly.

I spent a happy hour wandering and photographing, enjoying the April sunshine.

What I had not considered was the hugely different eating patterns of the Spanish. Coffee in the morning, then a mid morning pastry followed by a REALLY late lunch ( around 2pm). This followed by drinks at 6pm, tapas at 7pm and then dinner not a moment before 8.30-9pm.

This presented quite a challenge for a tired lone traveller. I ate bizarely for my entire trip. Grazing. Having brunch for lunch, and some dodgy early evening meals at restaurants that only cater for non Spaniards like me. I resorted to eating a big breakfast and lunch, then snacking on food from local supermarkets before going to bed when the locals were just heading out for dinner.

I have no problem with dining alone, and read a really good book whilst away, but the late nights were a step too far after walking around ten miles every day.

The City of Arts and Sciences did not disappoint.

I found it breathtaking. The opera house ( palau des artes) , the hemisferic ( a cinema), the science museum and the Oceanographic (aquarium) are laid out one after another. Each spectacular. Each serving a different cultural need. I skipped the science museum with its groups of loudly chanting students, and made my way to the Oceanographic.

I wanted to see the jellyfish.

OH asked me why on earth I went to the aquarium. He doesn't understand how much I love jellyfish.

He would have been at the archeological museum. Each to his own.

I was in jellyfish heaven. You can see all the species on view here

I hadn't appreciated how much I love watching them until I saw how many photographs I had taken of these beautiful creatures. Too many for my travel laptop to cope with. A heavy cull had to take place.

So ended a very happy first day.

I enjoyed the city of arts and sciences so much that I returned there each day, and had a fascinating tour of the opera house, inspecting the equally impressive interior architecture.

The next day, for something completely different, I headed out by bus to the beach, and the district of El Cabanyal, where tradtional houses still line the streets just inland from the long, flat, sandy beach. It was, and still is, a fishermens' district.

I found a very different vibe here. Colourful tiles and painted houses, wrought iron balconies, and local bars with men chatting over beer and snacks of white beans.

I wandered the streets, wondering how to convey this place. I mostly noticed the wires that ran across the front of properties. Haphazard and twisted.  Most of the detail was on the second storeys; I didn't have the right lenses to properly capture the character of the place. I travel light; otherwise I wouldn't have the energy to walk all day. I decided not to worry; just enjoy the meanderings.

I am not an architectural photographer. I enjoy colours and shapes, but don't want to have to worry about perspective and tripods.

Next stop; the beach.

It was long, sandy, windy and unattractive compared to many.

Folks were walking and cycling, as they do.

There was a lot of beach volleyball, and some strangely skimpy shorts sported by some of the ladies' teams. More thongs than shorts.

I must be getting old.......

I am definitely not a sports photographer. I don't enjoy the voyeuristic nature of it as a non professional.

What about street art?

There is a lot of grafitti and street art in Valencia. I took a tour, and learned about the local street artists. I learned about Ninja man.... he pops up everywhere. I also heard about the 'old man' who is called 'the photographer' street artist; he is just three years older than me.

He probably doesn't feel old, any more than I do.

Taking photographs of other people's art feels a bit pointless, unless one is writing an article about the artists. Which I am not.

So I won't be a street art photographer.

I had a great time. I walked miles and saw so much.

I didn't see so many things that I might have. I did all of the outdoor sights, and practically none of the indoor ones.

Next time I go, I will be able to look forward to queueing to see the Holy Grail in the cathedral, and visiting the tile museum and the rice museum.

Or maybe not.

For now then, I am content to think of myself as an outdoor photographer. Anything and everything that catches my attention.

With a side-line in jellyfish.