That time I accidentally exchanged money on the black market

‘All fur coat and no knickers’ is how I’d describe my hotel in Uzbekistan. A northern England expression describing something, or more often someone, that is all style over substance.

How did this nervous traveller land himself in Uzbekistan?

Arriving at a foreign airport unable to speak the language or read any of the airport signs is daunting. Shit-scary but thrilling too for this nervous traveller.

A Yorkshire Horror Story

A true story of how a short break in a charming Yorkshire village turned to bloody horror.

I’m covered in blood. I don’t know why.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

Reincarnated as a Dung Beetle

It’s a Sunday evening in January 2011. I’m sitting with 6 strangers in a house in Paddington. There’s an uneasy silence. We’re waiting to get started.

Was this real or a scam?

It’s a Sunday evening in January 2011. I’m sitting with 6 strangers in a house in Paddington. There’s an uneasy silence. We’re waiting to get started…

A Life Well Lived

My tour was interrupted by an old lady who seemed to know everyone. She took my and warmly between hers. Not letting go.

My Tacoma Bridge Moment

We ‘upgraded’ to the suburbs when I was 7 years old. The school I left behind was an austere Victorian building with separate entrances for boys and girls.