A few years ago when the city was shut down and empty, I used to take long lone cycle rides in parts of London that were unknown to me, seeking an escape. One day at January’s end, after cycling around Regent’s Park in the frost to admire John Nash’s terraces, I came to the winter Garden.

It was late afternoon, the sun had set and dusk was gathering but, when I came upon the narrow gate leading through a rose arch to the garden, I could not resist exploring. Beyond the entrance lay a large formal garden once attached to a grand Regent’s Park mansion. It was divided by hedges into a series of hidden spaces like a labyrinth. I found the place empty and deserted, save a few lonely blackbirds. In the last light of day, took these photographs.

I intended to publish my pictures and write about my visit then. Yet when I studied the photographs, I grew so enchanted that the experience barely seemed credible anymore. Instead, I kept the evidence of my melancholy pilgrimage to myself. Each year at this time, I revisited the photographs without finding any words to accompany them. On one occasion, I even set out to visit the garden again to verify my experience only to discover it was closed.

Contemplating these pictures now, they feel far away and I find it difficult even to remember the lockdown. It no longer seems real to me. Many are still struggling with the after-effects of that time yet when I look at these photographs I realise it is over. My pictures of this cold garden at twilight, with only a few plants showing, are how I shall recall it. The Winter Garden was where I found solace at the heart of the empty city.

Hylas

In the Rose Garden

The Sunken Lawn at St John’s Lodge

The Shepherdess Border

Snowdrops

The first primroses

‘To all protectors of the defenceless’

The Giant Urn

The Arbour Walk

St John’s Lodge Garden, Inner Circle, Regent’s Park, NW1 4NR

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