So we arrived back this morning. Landed 6am. At (fucking) Gatwick. An airport designed to be as inconvenient and inaccessible as possible for me. There’s no easy way to get there; there’s no quick way to get there. There’s not even a relatively shitty way to get there. But heh? Small (ish) price to pay – Read More-
We’re in Negril, Jamaica. In a place called ‘7 mile beach’. I really don’t have to explain why its called that. If we walk 5 miles along the beach, we’re in Negril. Big town. 34 people live there. But its not about the town (which is why we haven’t bothered going there), its about the – Read More-
The thing with resort type holidays is that the days are all (fabulously, miraculously, divinely) similar. Whether we choose to swim first, then walk a few miles up the beach, or go cycling in the gym before breakfast or before lunch, or which restaurant you eat which meal in, is all subject to whim. And – Read More-
I’ve been watching BBC World News service out here. Because I like the news. No, I love the news. I’m a news-whore. Can’t get enough. And you realise, watching BBC World Shit, that there actually isn’t enough. Not for me, and not to fill 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, f’rever and’ever. So – Read More-
So another fine year draws to its inevitable close. New Year’s Eve. And with it the obvious need and desire to work out whether this year past was a good one, whether improvements need to be made to ensure next year might be made even better. Changes to lifestyle, to diet, to plans and aspirations. – Read More-
This is hell. (Should be a lovely pic, still having upload issues; think ‘beach, sun, gorgeous’) Ok, not very hellish, long as you don’t mind heat. Intense heat of the tropical variety. Soothed only by the intake of copious drinks. But man can’t live on sunshine and rum-based cocktails alone. Though thinking about that… hmmmm… – Read More-
So morning one we swim. Before breakfast. Because its hot and sunny and because you can. So easily. And even a floundering splasher like me can make a bit of an effort. Morning two, the pattern continues. Morning three; pre-morning really, I wake up at about 5am with a blocked and uncomfortable left ear. The – Read More-
Its true. Jamaicans call everyone ‘mon’. As in ‘y’areet dere, Mon?’ Its like living in a Bob Marley album. And its cool, chilled and laid back. Considering its about 30 degrees day and night. But when we leave the somewhat rarified atmosphere of our little resort, which only really happens when we walk the beach, – Read More-
You never know about Boxing Day football. Would Harry Kane go for the extra pigs-in-blankets yesterday? Would Deli Alli have seconds of roast potatoes? Mousa Dembele hit the Christmas pud to excess? Leaving them all fat and sickly and floundering round the pitch, all hung over and over-loaded? Obviously not. As we seem to be – Read More-
The odd thing is not that Christmas in Jamaica is cloudless and hotter than hell, but that for Jamaicans, this IS just, Christmas. Reindeer would melt, Santa would hyperventilate. The elves would be too stoned to help. Christmas is so culture specific that whilst New York celebrates it in overcoats and scarves and snow, just – Read More-