I’m so glad I don’t love cars. It must be a blight, a curse on one’s life to feel the pressure of wanting, of needing to drive something sleek and fast and fancy. If – Janis Joplin style – the Lord were to buy me a Mercedes Benz, I would thank him and accept it, but having … Continue reading Who’s Going To Drive You Home?
Slow travel: there’s a lot to be said for it, taking one’s time to get from there to here so that your head and your heart can keep pace with your body; so that the emotional you and the physical you arrive as one to your destination. My first stop is on the other side … Continue reading Never Been Gone
The majority of planes are grounded and the sight of a contrail ribboning the sky (I’ve always thought them beautiful) has become noteworthy. I turned my car engine over yesterday and revved it; car-physio, is what I’m calling this monthly, one-minute resuscitation. I’m not sure it will make any difference, it’s probably as effective as … Continue reading Close Your Eyes and Go
I’ve picked up a virus. I’ve not just brushed against it, but I’ve bagged it, brought it home, and moved it in. It has been a year, almost to the day, since I’ve felt like this. Maybe it’s to become a fixture – clear the decks for the February-flu. Everything in my brain is hazy. Like driving … Continue reading To Weep
He had a coffee; I had Earl Grey. His was frothy and a bit cold, he told me; mine was too hot, so I blew on it, not that it made a whit of difference. “From England? You’re walking the whole way from the North of England to Santiago?” “Yes. The one in Spain, … Continue reading There’s a Hole in my Bucket
This year I am taking at least one road trip. The first is in the planning stages: agree dates, book ferry, consider route, juggle loose itinerary, and channel my inner Jack Kerouac: “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.” There is something about hitting the road, pointing the … Continue reading Road Trip
My Edinburgh Press 