Category: Travelling

Norway Cruise Day 1 – Vardø Bewitched

Our giant ship sidles into the little Norwegian town of Vardø, gently buffering up against the daisy-chain of old tyres pinned along the dockside. Then, throwing out its ropes as an invitation, it is accepted and entwined to the harbour cleats. Five minutes later the boat opens its mouth, sticks out its gantry tongue and…

BEING GROUNDED – The first 2 days

DAY ONE – MONDAY I have been grounded for the month of February. Normally on a Monday I would be taking the evening flight to Copenhagen, where I work for a very well-known optician. We have offices in five northern European countries. For February, we have instituted an international travel ban, to save some cash…

Wish You Were Here

It was a Friday night. I was at the Royal Arena in Copenhagen to enjoy Roger Waters – creative force behind Pink Floyd, protester, political provocateur, poet and progressive music pantheon. My seat was at the extreme front left of the balcony, parallel with, and high above, the edge of the stage – almost the…

A second chance in Amsterdam.

I was in the middle of Amsterdam for one night only. I had to get out and run. So at 6.30am I was stepping out of the hotel into the icy morning air. It felt more like the middle of the night. The cold water of the IJ lay black and and foreboding in front…

Opting out of the wild goose chase

​There are a many situations in life where we run into a sticky problem and have to decide whether to carry on regardless or to back track. At what point does reason tap on the shoulder of determination and suggest an honourable retreat? And will our ego  allow common-sense a fair hearing? I set off…

The Auckland Taxi Mystery

I was checking out of the last hotel on the final day of a week dashing around some islands in the Southern Hemisphere. Three of them to be precise. Australia, South NZ and now North NZ. My colleagues had left at midday, leaving me with a fee afternoon to walk around Auckland. I’d been up…

The Broken Bones of Christchurch

Arriving in Christchurch after midnight was like arriving in a ghost town. We drove quietly from the airport along deserted roads before finding the edge of the town centre. On our left appeared a temporary orange plastic fence behind which something was being cleared or constructed – it wasn’t apparent which. The road narrowed and…

To fly, perchance to sleep

Counting time between proper sleeps – it was 48 hours. From waking up in my own bed in England (8am Saturday morning) to falling asleep in a hotel room in Melbourne (10pm Monday evening). We can argue about the definition of a day. The number of hours between these two times is theoretically 62 hours.…