Looking trim, exuding cool, 81-year-old Buddy Guy dips his head to the microphone. 'They don't play this kinda blues on the radio no more,' he growls. The audience in his eponymous bar in downtown Chicago whoops in anticipation.
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A lurch and a swish, a sudden sense of space beneath my feet - and I plunge headlong into one of the most eyeball-bending views in the world. The Andes mountains in widescreen, inverted cones of streets, shimmers of colour through the high, thin air.
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Preservation Hall, in the French Quarter of New Orleans, is a lowlit capsule of whirring ceiling fans and crumbling walls - cosily monochrome save for the Exit signs in red neon. At the front (there is no stage) Shannon Powell, 'the King of Treme'…
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La Serenissima, the Most Serene Republic of Venice, is agitated. It's a sunny day in late October - the squares are full of pavement lunchers, the motoscafo drivers are wearing sunglasses and look like Marcello Mastroianni in La Dolce Vita…
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It's a beautiful summer's evening in Central London - a busy time for saving lives. The blue sky is streaked with contrails and out on the River Thames, between Chelsea and Albert Bridges, the crew of an orange E-Class lifeboat…
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