clinging to the wreckage

  The African morning is something to behold. Quite a potent and beautiful thing, but not something to always be taken easily if one is a light sleeper or in need of a deep and long sleep. The birdsong is simply describable in no other way than to say it is a cacophony of sound. Birds of all varieties seem to be in competition for which will make the greatest noise. As a backdrop to this are those birds nesting… hundreds of nests side by side, in a tree branching over one’s place of rest, coming to life vibrantly at 4am. Monkeys move along beneath the umbrella of branches and hoot their morning moans of despair and delight. Beyond the wall of trees is the Indian Ocean, crashing down its waves upon the early morning night-swept beach. A sad sounding truck passes by on the nearby road carrying its cargo to the next warehouse. In it all is an immense beauty, it is not the fog-drowned smog of London, nor the rampant roar of a tourist infested New York City. It is the balance of rain and su

  Awake through the night in Dubai… I don’t even know which time zone I am in anymore. There’s no booze in the room, there is no light, there is no sound. A day ago, I was eight hours behind my parents, now I am two hours ahead of them. I got up and went for a short walk, walked to the elevators, and pressed the button to summon one of those bullet speed shafts to the 17th floor. The elevator arrived, the doors opened, there was a matrix-like wall blocking it. My eyes adjusted and I discovered it was a rack of baggage that one of the hotel staff was taking downstairs. Inexplicably, he rolled the rack out of the elevator so I could get in and then rolled it back in again to go down with me. He told me that it was beautiful to walk along the canal, so I walked outside and went down to the canal, but I was wearing flip flops and sleeping shorts… I wasn’t prepared. It made me think of a warm and quiet River Thames. It occurred to me that the canal had probably been designed to look precise

  What does it mean, after years of fumbling and flailing romances, hopeless misadventures and elusive lustful encounters, to find someone whose voice soothes your soul… whose skin is like a familiar treasure and carries a scent that is like the warmest and safest haven of home? Finally finding a friend who is a gentle and passionate lover to whom you feel completely connected in every way. But then, several months later, in the need of legal documents, it turns out that the casual lover she spoke of when you first met was to become her husband in just a few short days. Inexplicably, the romance continues, and the months pass by… but soon comes the time when, inevitably, all things must stop in the name of ‘loyalty.’ The friendship continues to blossom, however, even when there is a trans-continental move. But then comes the day when her home country begins a war. The world is plunged into turmoil and uncertainty and certain citizens of both countries are in danger of struggle and star

  This week I went to see Teenage Bottlerocket live at Amplified in Dallas, Texas. They’re not one of my favourite bands, but, during lockdown, their song ‘why the big pause’ became something of a theme for me and I really enjoyed the night and the show. I also discovered a new band called Sloth Fist, with the irresistible slogan: ‘Live slow, die whenever’ 😅

  In 2013, when I moved to Madrid, Spain, my friend and I decided not only to commit ourselves to excellence and continuous improvement in the workplace, but also to create a social community that would bring people from diverse backgrounds together. One night, whilst sitting outside of a bar at 4am, still drinking (I discovered that many places in Spain will actually remain open until you decide to leave) we took a little catchphrase that my friend always used and converted it into a name for the community. It was Yooo H ooo (he used to say it fast and brief in a high-pitched voice, almost like a whistle). We specifically enforced that it must have three o’s either side of a bold upper-case H . The regular meeting would be ‘Yooo H ooo Thursday’ because, my friend stated, ‘if you are going to be hungover, better to waste Friday than a day of your weekend.’ Yooo H ooo grew and became a monster – something that we would say frequently in later months and years: ‘we have

  It has been a life of moving and change. I have lived in four different countries and in some cases, different parts of those countries. Nevertheless, it never gets easier to make a decision to move or stay. It never gets easier saying goodbye to friends and lovers. And, in spite of the fact that I have lived in different countries, it is also true that, within those countries, I have typically settled into a home and stayed on one place. Essentially, I love to travel, I love to experience new things, but I do not like to move. I hate packing up, I hate saying goodbye. Now, it seems, a change is upon me once more. After four years living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, it is most probable that I will move to Dallas, Texas towards the end of the year. I spent last week and weekend in Dallas and I am uncertain to say the least. I was unfortunate in that it rained most days I was there. Such was the extent that I began to ask people if they ever had clear blue skies. Lat

Train at Boston’s South Station New York Bryant Park Central Park In the midst of the pandemic, desperate to get away from home for at least a couple of days, I took the opportunity to book a train journey from Boston to New York. I’d met an architect on a dating app just before the pandemic set in and we had become friends in spite of not being able to meet due to lockdowns. Also, she had met someone locally in New York during the pandemic and was now in a relationship. Nevertheless, she suggested that we meet anyway as we had been chatting for almost a year. Thus, on Saturday morning, the 19 th  of December, I awoke at 6am, had a shower, dressed, and walked to the station at the end of my street where I took the metro to Boston’s South Station. We had experienced a snowstorm that Wednesday and, as a result, everything was covered in snow. It seemed to be the case each time I was travelling to New York.             At South Station I had a short wait before boarding the beautiful Amtr