‘All fur coat and no knickers’ is how I’d describe my hotel in Uzbekistan. A northern England expression describing something, or more often someone, that is all style over substance.
Arriving at a foreign airport unable to speak the language or read any of the airport signs is daunting. Shit-scary but thrilling too for this nervous traveller.
A true story of how a short break in a charming Yorkshire village turned to bloody horror.
I’m covered in blood. I don’t know why.
An ordinary visit to the park turns into a near-death experience. As I dutifully pick up his shit, my dogs runs toward a busy main road.
There is a place in Kenya where you can watch Elephants and other wildlife from the safety of a treehouse. This iconic location also has a historic past.
I’m a fan of meditation but I get distracted. Asked to visualise a mountain scene, my imagination runs amok. I’m soon ‘off script’ chatting to my favourite aunty.
For a moment, Hull received global attention again. A painting of a boy brandishing a wooden sword appeared overnight. A graffiti-art gift from Banksy.
Hull UK City of Culture received extensive press coverage in the UK. What about other parts of the world? Australia for example?
Looking for unusual things to do in Canada? Visiting Ottawa? You should try incarcerating yourself in a real prison. I did.
Aged 22 I travelled around the world. A 4 week bus trip across Canada was the final leg. Here I was to experience my biggest travel disappointment.
2017 didn’t go your way? Lady Luck pissed on your chips? If the answer is yes, you’re probably desperate enough to try some superstitious claptrap. You’re in the right place.
South King Street, previously the rough end of Newtown, has taken the well-trodden path to gentrification. But isn’t playing by the usual rules.
In 2015 Prime Minister Tony Abbott was under sustained pressure to legalise same-sex-marriage in Australia. He had no intention of allowing that to happen.
In Varanasi, among the 2000 or so temples, is a charity-run hostel called ‘Salvation House’. The guests come to here die.
In India the perilous roads, the ever-present risk of shitting oneself were both expected. We quickly learned that there are unexpected dangers too.
Budget travel brings an unavoidable level of intimacy. Oversharing in extremis. De-briefings requested and given after each visit to the toilet.
We were carried by a motorcade of tuk-tuks through the dark, dusty streets of nighttime Delhi on a frightening, fruitless search for a hotel room.
Age 22, I wrote a letter to my future self. In a moment of transcendent clarity, I committed my thoughts to paper so I could look back and remember that feeling.
Standing outside the train station on London Road, I looked across at the skyline of Leicester. ‘Whatever happens, I’m not coming to this shit-hole’, I thought.
In a world of divisive politics, orange presidents and Brex-shit, we can at least agree on one thing. Garden gnomes are tacky.