My dad has spent his life working in the theatre. He’s acted, directed and stage managed; written plays, sketches and pantomimes; taught students, professionals and celebrities, and even met my mother onstage (she was his leading lady, once upon a time). A fortnight ago, my dad rode to hospital in an ambulance. His fibrosis lungs are ragged and his heart keeps missing beats. He’s been in the coronary care ward ever since; two weeks of lying still in orange and green…
“We only predicted 18,000 people today…” Sandi Toksvig’s voice echoes through the cardboard placards which fill Trafalgar Square. Faces are turned towards the sun; banners flutter below Nelson’s column, flanked by roaring bronze lions made 150 years ago. If I squint, I can see Big Ben in the distance. We are in the midst of London’s most famous landmarks on a chilly January day, most of which were built by men. But at the start of 2017 we’re listening to the speakers of…
Before arriving in Arezzo, Italy, I’d only seen this little town on-screen. But from the moment I stepped inside Antonio’s small second-floor apartment, I knew I was going to like Arezzo in real life. Antonio, a jovial Italian B&B owner who I was renting a room from, seemed resolved to ensure that I saw every important site, landmark and tourist spot in his home town, even with just eighteen hours at my disposal. After Antonio had shown me my bedroom (complete…
My mum once pierced her ears with a needle and an ice cube. Well, not exactly. Mum was eighteen, travelling in the US, and it was her American friends who happily volunteered to do the piercing for her; Mum’s friend Lainey who slightly misjudged the needle’s point in Mum’s right earlobe and made the hole a few centimetres too low. Uneven piercings didn’t seem to matter to my mum. Wearing earrings, like every other form of jewellery, quickly became a decorative statement which she embraced…
Hugo and Consuela have a framed photo of Che Guevara above their fish tank. This middle-aged couple, my casa hosts in Santa Clara, have just bought three slices of peso pizza from the hole-in-the-wall round the corner. We sit at their small kitchen table, fans whirring overhead: I nibble at a corner of the greasy slice while Hugo sips on his mug of red wine, poured straight from the freezer, then asks me, “How is Tony Blair, in England?” My Spanish is proficient enough to…
Sir Ranulph Fiennes doesn’t like climbing. “I get vertigo,” he says matter-of-factly to the sea of faces in front of him, explaining that for a long time he refused to embark on any possible expeditions which involved heights. That is, until his wife Ginny died twelve years ago, when he set about trying to confront the fears he knew he had. “And, well… if you’ve got vertigo, then clearly Everest is the place to go.” In a wood panelled auditorium at the…
This afternoon, a man on a bike cycled past me. He had headphones jammed in his ears and was singing along to music which was only faintly audible: the song was one I didn’t recognise, but the big smile on his face spoke for itself. ‘How nice – that man is really happy!’ I thought. And then I stopped, and reconsidered my reaction. That man was happy. Happier than me, perhaps. Certainly happier than many other people around the world. It…
My first morning above the Arctic Circle was nothing like I expected. I woke with a start at 2.45am. The expedition ship was pitching and rolling like a mad thing: coats on their hooks sliding back and forth across the cabin wall; the ladder at my side threatening to jump from its hinges and crash to the floor. From the bunk below, my cabin mate Helena sleepily opened our small curtain and I peered out into bright light. Grey-white froth and spittle pounded…
What makes the perfect Camino packing list? On September 12th 2015, I started walking through the city of Leon in northern Spain. For the next twenty days I walked to Santiago de Compostela, then onward to the coastal towns of Finisterre and Muxia where I arrived on October 2nd. It’s been almost a year since I set out on the Camino de Santiago, and I’m starting to get itchy feet again. My backpack is currently gathering dust on top of the wardrobe;…
My biggest dream on this Norwegian Arctic trip? To see polar bears in Svalbard. After a week spent living onboard the Quark expedition ship, we finally had our first full day at sea. No more afternoons spent harbour-side in quaint little towns along the coast of Norway; no more cruising past the open mouths of fjords. The ship was edging closer to predator territory, and now we had a new rulebook to follow. “Today, we’re entering the food chain.” John, our captain,…