Photo by Film Music Media

5 Things About Me

1. I've had extraordinary wildlife encounters that few people experience

I've spent my entire life seeking out remarkable creatures in their natural habitats. One of my most treasured moments was tracking a family of critically endangered African wild dogs in Botswana (with fewer than 6,600 left in the wild), only to discover not just the adults but an astonishing 32 tiny puppies tumbling about in the grass. On another occasion, what I initially mistook for a rock suddenly revealed itself as a scaly pangolin - a peculiar creature our guide had only seen once in his 26-year career, despite it being the world's most trafficked animal. I've had eye-level encounters with Komodo dragons with no barriers between us, and spent nights in a tent where only thin canvas separated us from the hyenas, leopards, and a particularly determined honey badger that broke into our vehicle to steal yoghurt. In the Azores, after a particularly rough sea journey, I was rewarded with the sight of a blue whale mother and calf surfacing nearby – these largest animals on Earth appearing almost mythical in the vast Atlantic. Once I found myself in a precarious, low-sitting canoe, surrounded by hippos, crocodiles and bathing elephants - a moment when I questioned my life choices but couldn't stop grinning. My partner politely reminds me that these experiences are precisely why our trips tend to involve binoculars and insect repellent rather than poolside cocktails.

2. I lived in Valencia and survived Las Fallas (barely)

During my time studying in Spain, my love of cooking matured alongside my appreciation for three-hour lunches followed by strategic naps. I also experienced Las Fallas, a festival of beautiful chaos that still haunts my eardrums. Each morning began with marching bands rousing the entire city at 8am, regardless of how late the previous night's street parties had run. The daily "mascletà" fireworks were so thunderously loud you could only survive by opening your mouth to equalize the pressure (somehow I still retained enough hearing to compose music). Evenings culminated in massive street parties where children, parents and grandparents danced together until the early hours. The festival's finale involved setting enormous artistic sculptures ablaze mere metres from buildings, with firefighters hosing down surrounding structures as I felt the heat radiating against my face. Despite my fondness for Spain, my Portuguese partner ensures I maintain the correct opinion about which Iberian nation is superior (hint: it's not Spain).

3. I traded city lights for Suffolk skies

I compose from a small village in Suffolk, England where I can see horses grazing in the fields directly outside my window, with the landscape stretching flat to the horizon. I've shunned the typical, dark windowless tech-cave with endless flashing lights in favour of endless skies and fields. The topography is a bit lacking in variation so I completely understand Bilbo Baggins' plea to Gandalf: "I want to see mountains!" Suffolk's charm isn't in dramatic scenery but in its gentle, unassuming beauty—the kind that slowly captivates you rather than instantly impresses. It's every American's romanticised vision of the English countryside and every Brit's "oh, you actually live there?" moment when I mention my address. The creative perspective it offers—watching seasons change, wildlife wander, and weather systems roll in—has become essential to my compositional approach.

4. I'm creating a wildlife documentary about Suffolk's returning spoonbills

Before sunrise, you'll often find me standing in wellies with camera in hand, waiting for the perfect light in the Suffolk marshes. I'm currently making a documentary about spoonbills - magnificent birds that look like they're wearing spoons on their faces and were extinct in the UK for centuries (apparently medieval royalty found them too delicious) but have recently made a comeback in the wild. These fascinating creatures are the perfect combination of elegantly graceful and bizarrely prehistoric. As a keen photographer, I've experienced all the classic frustrations—waiting hours for something to happen, finally getting the perfect moment only to discover it's slightly out of focus, or having the subject perfectly sharp but in terrible light. Yet I've discovered that the greatest reward isn't capturing the perfect shot, but the hours spent quietly observing nature's unfolding dramas. The documentary project has taught me more about patience than any recording session ever could. I've also developed an encyclopaedic knowledge of British wading birds that absolutely no one has asked for, but I'll enthusiastically share anyway.

5. I've become that friend with the compost stories

My move back to my home county of Suffolk after several years working in Los Angeles deepened my eco-conscious tendencies. I've found myself exploring minimalism, washing clothes with soap nuts, and trying to create wildlife-friendly garden spaces. Recently, I've been learning foraging—discovering that many plants I previously considered weeds are actually quite delicious. I discovered that cooking with plants isn't a sacrifice but a creative adventure that's opened up entirely new ingredients I'd never explored before. Friends visiting from the city are equally amused and bewildered by my enthusiasm for these seemingly small lifestyle adjustments. It's not about being perfect—I still spend way too much time on my computer, haven't dug that wildlife pond or installed solar panels, and my gardening skills leave much to be desired (don't get too close to my slimy compost bin)—but finding joy in choices that feel right for both me and the environment I've grown to cherish.

When I'm not doing these things, I compose music for film and television. I've worked on projects ranging from independent documentaries to major studio productions. For business inquiries, I'm represented by Michal Marks at A-Muse Management.