Archive For The “Travellers’ tales” Category
Maybe it’s a generation thing but I am not, nor never have been, a natty dresser. Quality yes, fashion no. Indeed, for many years I aspired to the anonymous dress style of a deputy bank manager. Nowadays, if I do wear something fashionable, it is almost certainly a gift from someone in touch – usually my…
I am not a man who is easily frightened. To be more precise, I have never been someone who suffers from classical phobias so have no concerns about being in open or closed spaces, nor am I made anxious by being in the company of spiders or mice. I don’t get worried by dreamed-up fears,…
It is usually dangerous to make generalisations but here we go – Canadians are nice. What draws me to this position? On my first trip five months ago I discovered that when it comes to matters of taste, there are many people in Canada who have an endearing quirkiness, as I described in July [A…
My recent trip to Canada was full of surprises. Not least amongst them was the decor at my Bed and Breakfast. In my limited experience B&Bs are more functional than fun. My week at Wendy’s was different – here was a visual cornucopia. Each day for a week I worked with my son Joshua on…
As I get older I get more picky, and this extends to where I sit when travelling. For some time I have had favourite seats in cars and planes. The list now includes places in the underground, more specifically, in trains on the District Line. Here, making sure I find one of my favourites is…
Joe Collier asks the West Lothian bus question: “Got any change?” It was late one Saturday evening and we were in an unfamiliar suburb of Edinburgh. At that time buses are rare. The next was due in around two minutes and had we missed it we would have had to wait for almost an hour….
We have often wondered what was knocking over the metal statue of a heron that stands on the garden table at the back of the house. Not every day, more like once a month, but even so a mystery. Now, thanks to the recent snowfall, the crime is solved – it is the local fox….
I was sitting in the underground reading a newspaper and minding my own business. It was rush hour with many passengers standing, leaving those seated in that strange, and somewhat childlike position of being in an underworld surrounded by anonymous legs, backpacks, handbags or perhaps an overgenerous coat. Identifying to whom they belonged was out…
