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.
8 reasons why Australia vote in favour of Same-Sex-Marriage
In 2015 there was global momentum to legalise same-sex-marriage. Tony Abbott, Prime Minister and midwife-in-charge, was under sustained pressure to follow suit. The UK, USA, New Zealand, Ireland, Canada, all culturally aligned countries, had said I Do. Public opinion in Australia was becoming more favourable to the idea. Tony and his fellow dinosaurs, the Liberal Party’s Christian Right, had to come up with new, creative ways to block social progress. They would use all means necessary to preserve their fictional 1950s-family-values version of Australia.
Backpacking in Varanasi, India
In Varanasi, among the 2000 or so temples, is a charity-run hostel called ‘Salvation House’. The guests come to here die.
Backpacking in Varanasi, India: what you can expect.
In Varanasi, among the 2000 or so temples, is a charity-run hostel – Mukti Bhavan (‘Salvation House’) – where the guests come to die. The room tariff includes the wood for the funeral pyre. To be clear, this isn’t a centre for suicide. Not an Indian version of Dignitas, the Swiss one-stop-shop for euthanasia. The very old and very sick come here, when death is imminent.
Unexpected Dangers in India
In India the perilous roads, the ever-present risk of shitting oneself were both expected. We quickly learned that there are unexpected dangers too.
Backpacking in India: unexpected dangers.
Danger comes from unexpected places in India. Perilous roads, the ever-present risk of shitting oneself. We had a long list of potential hazards. But little brown Geckos were not included.
Backpacking in India: avoid farting
Budget travel brings an unavoidable level of intimacy. Oversharing in extremis. De-briefings requested and given after each visit to the toilet.
Backpacking in India: a cautionary tale about farting
Budget travel brings an unavoidable level of intimacy. Oversharing in extremis. De-briefings requested and given after each visit to the toilet.
Arriving in Delhi as naive backpcker
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.
Backpacking in India: arriving in Delhi
Carried by a motorcade of tuk-tuks through the dark, dusty streets of Delhi looking for a hotel room. It was like we were caught up in a surreal Nativity Story interpretation. THIS was the adventure we wanted… wasn’t it?
I quit university to see the world
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.
Quitting university. Arriving in India as a backpacker
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. It was as if I’d been driving through a dimly lit, noisy tunnel. Coming out of the other side into silence. Sunlight. Sweet relief.
Naked
I’m naked. Well, almost. I’m wearing only a fig leaf. That’s the way it feels sometimes, writing this blog. Looking at my comfort zone through the rear view mirror. I enjoy it. But It’s exposing.
Finally leaving home (and being assaulted)
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.
Part 13: Student Bashing
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.
Embrace The Tacky Garden Gnome
In a world of divisive politics, orange presidents and Brex-shit, we can at least agree on one thing. Garden gnomes are tacky.
Embrace The Newtown Gnome
In a world of divisive politics, orange presidents and Brex-shit, we can at least agree on one thing. Garden gnomes are tacky.
My Syria Experience: Damascus, Aleppo, Palmyra
I turned the corner to come nose-to-nose with a decapitated camel, hanging grimly outside a butcher’s shop. A hook through the underside of its jaw.
Visiting Syria: Damascus, Aleppo, Palmyra
As I turned the corner I came nose-to-nose with a decapitated camel.
Life with a Brachial Plexus Injury: protecting your good arm
You’re unaware your arm is resting up against a boiling kettle. The skin is burning but you can’t feel it. When and how do you realise? When you smell your skin crisping up like pork crackling?
onearmbandito 