There are a few things in life that tug at some weird string inside me – located slightly above my stomach. Abandoned, derelict buildings are one of them. A good door is another. Who can resist a good door? If you don’t know what I’m talking about – you never will. I once got so excited by a door in Paris that I actually squealed out loud and had my photo taken with it.
This photograph is of my favourite door in Nottingham, which I walked past today.