I had been delving into my archive recently with the help of the Agency Urbanimage, who take care of my Dancehall images. These images were taken at a London Dancehall Ragga club back in 1993. During the day this basement building was a gym, but at weekends  it was transformed into the secret location for a Ragga club. Located south of the river close to the Financial Times building, I remember it took quite a bit of research before I eventually located the venue and gained access, but when I did it proved well worth the trouble.

Last weekend I received a request to show more of my Jamaican photos, by one of my Jamaican readers. So I have put together a little scrapbook of images from my time in Jamaica. These images are taken from the 80s, 90s and 00s. The top two images were taken in Kingston  from my Dancehall series and the bottom two are images respectively, are of men playing cards and bingo in Spanish Town. I hope you enjoy.

In my occasional series where I delve into my archive, I bring you the story Harold Woodrow Willacey, Jamaican street-scribe. Taken from my time living in Kingston, Jamaica, these photos were shot in 2003. I am not sure if Harold Willacey is still alive… Perhaps my Jamaican friends who follow the blog might be able to tell help me out with that bit of information. What follows is a short piece I wrote at the time, to go with the photos. I hope you enjoy it.

If you dally along Barry Street in the heart of downtown Kingston, Jamaica, you might come across Harold Woodrow Willacey. Born in 1927, Manchester, Jamaica, Harold sits patiently for his next customer. Amidst these chaotic and dangerous streets. Harold  quietly types away on his German made vintage classic Olympia typewriter; letters, Resémé’s, applications, and pretty much anything that people bring to Harold’s attention.. and all this for the same cost of a cup coffee back in London. Harold has been quietly plying his trade downtown since the 1960s. Harold was in the RAF during the Second World War, based in England. Shortly after the war he sustained an injury while working in a bike factory, damaging his neck so severely that he decided on a doctors recommendation to go back to Jamaica, to a warmer climate.

 Harold has fond memories of England, despite never receiving compensation for his injuries. He remembers playing football and “winning the respect of the English men”-due to his ball playing skills-”scoring a goal and getting lots of whistles and cheers.” He was still only a teenager then and still remembers it well. Harold goes on to say, “black people were not considered to know anything in those days”.

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