We did a 5 day roadtrip. We drove 1500 miles. Half of which were unnecessary and ending in three point turns. Having said that we saw most of southern California. We headed East first to Big Bear Lake through the Mojave. We kept Lula from going car crazy by telling her to look for Bears. …
The thing about being back in ‘civilisation’ is that it’s quite stressful. The capitalist gene kicks in and everywhere I look I see things I want to buy. Ok, not everywhere I look. When I look in the clothes shops the communist gene kicks back in. But everywhere else I see things I want to …
‘At what exact point did you decide you weren’t going back to live in the UK?’ Richard asked. What was the trigger huh? Well, you know, it wasn’t when I got my fiftieth pile of clean clothes back from the laundry people. It wasn’t when Alula went to play with our neighbour’s family. No, the …
The question ‘Can we live here?’ becomes rhetorical in Bali. Like it’s followed by a silent ‘Do bears shit in the woods?’ Can we live here? What do you reckon? The neighbours live in a 200 year old teak house. John looks at it. ‘I feel bad. It’s like they’re living in the potting shed.’ …
Dharavi is the largest slum in Asia. It is 2sq kilometres and home to 1 million people. Yes you heard me, ONE million people. Not a one of them wearing converse, leggings and a dress from Gap. So my attempt to blend in is not working. People are staring at us like we’re another life …
‘I think my daughter goes to nursery with your daughter’, I say. ‘Oh right’, the woman says looking me over, ‘Are you on holiday here?’ ‘No we’re travelling and working remotely (well I’m doing the travelling and John’s doing the working but why go into detail?). We’ve rented a house in the village,’ I tell …
‘You’re running out of things to say,’ John remarks. ‘Yeah,’ I agree. It’s a first for me. For a moment we are stunned into silence. I think it is because life has simplified itself down to just necessities. I think in single syllables now. Beach. Book. Beer. Mango. Oh wait. That last one is two …
The strip light was about three inches from my eyeball. The mosquitoes were biting the soles of my feet – the bastards. The metal ropes holding the bunk were rusting. An elderly Indian gentlemen was dying of emphesema in the bed below. And I was sharing that 12 inch wide, grimy bunk with a small …
‘Welllllllllll.’ She draws out the wells. ‘What I really miss is Number Jacks. Especially the pink three. Yeah,’ she sighs, ‘Number Jacks is what I really miss mummy and Mister Maker. You know? Mister Maker. I miss them.’ She sighs again. I sigh too. Not for Mister Maker, though I do quite like Mister Maker …
It’s my first stop. And although I’m missing a fundamental part of my family (that would be my husband and daughter) I think I’ve found us a home (not like an actual house – that would be getting ahead of myself). I mean a place I think we could call home for say, three months …
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