This summer has been really hot, redolent of ’77, so it was great to chill in the garden of a big old country house in Kent. I’d been invited to an annual gathering of friends and family that’s been happening since 2003, and a jolly, inclusive event it was too.
A few strands recently came together to see an old mate and I visit the continent. It was an unusual trip taking in a French seaside town that could have been twinned with Jaywick.
Personal favourites from this year’s show – many of them made us laugh.
Shingle Street is an empty wild place where nature takes centre stage and modern life seems a bit puny. That night the stars shone brightly behind Mars and Venus.
After the job had finished, I decided to head up towards Brisbane as the busy tourist trap of the Gold Coast wasn’t really my scene and I wanted to meet a friend with similar plans. I met Thomas about a month ago over a ping pong table in another hostel. We both wanted to travel…
Getting older involves trading many things, like working knees, for perspective and insight; on balance maybe not a bad trade, but the irony of watching the same lessons being learnt, or not is tough.
The Gold Coast’s a tourist destination on the eastern edge of Australia, where masses of burned and tanned bodies dressed in vests, flat caps and bikinis, writhe round the ankles of a forest of sky-scrapers.
My Dad, brother and I have a tradition of finding adventures on holiday. Nick’s planning, stepping off the beaten track and mucking around, make for a good time.
Christchurch’s botanical gardens are beautifully kept, but after a day and a night, and another day of rain we nonetheless decided to go with the flow and head on down to the coast:
Unrelated to pretty much anything else here, but a good parenting fable and top of this trip’s playlist.
Something about boys 