Ebb & Flow. Friendship & Fling.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all they Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all they Tears wash out a Word of it. – Omar Khayyam These lines keep floating to the surface of my mind lately. Memories of my dad quoting them. A…

The way we roll

A rolling chain in red and baby blue. Gritty, dusty but with flowing ease enough to wind and wend those last kays back to the end that had been the beginning. That Patuxay ‘monster of concrete’ whose silhouette lured our peloton with cheery celebration as we rolled on through Vientiane traffic into the sunset. I’d…

Reclaiming the Romance

Today, just as I returned from visiting Bradley’s last home – the one we didn’t share after 6 character-filled places in 12 years – this was the memory Facebook presented me with: a journey of mud and meandering we shared 2 years ago. And it made me smile. And dig up the old journal entry from…

Bradley Schroeder: Free at Last

On the morning of the day I heard the news of your death, this was my Facebook memory: That pic made me smile that morning. It still does. Memories from some special days with good people. Family time. You’d made that your Facebook profile pic until not long before we split 18 months ago. And…

Byzantine choices

Yes, I ‘fess, the tour guide was gorgeous. “Ditch your friend,” he said. “Come meet me tonight.” Ditch Amanda? Are you kidding me? She’s the one I flew to Turkey to see – the 6th country we’ve met up in so far, inveterate travellers as we both are. Haga Sofia was just a by-product of…

This travelling life. And the lord of my dance.

He asked me. That’s how it started. Held out his hand. For that is a man’s role. And I said, ‘Teach me. Teach me, please.’ Allowing him the mentor’s role. The leader’s role. And he lead. And he commanded me: ‘Don’t let go.’ ‘And follow me. Just follow me.’ And I did. I followed. With…

Free to Wander

A night in a ryokan. My last in Japan. And all the magic was there quietly in that room. I’d booked this place for my last night only because it was close to the train station and I had to head to the airport before dawn cracked the next day. But what a find it…

Recalibrations

“Please fasten your seatbelts… Put away your electronic devices…” I’ve already read every word in the inflight mag during my two previous flights this month, so I read my own diary and discover with delight a journal of contentedness, growth and gratitude. (Who knew?) It’s a backward-looking journey to share, because there are lessons there. 24 November 2016, Wattay…

Barcelona… It’s complicated.

Tapas for one. That’s just not a thing. I went to Barcelona for the art and the architecture. For Picasso and Gaudí and Miró and more moderns. And they overwhelmed me all. Other aspects… Not so much. But an out-of-the-blue message from the gorgeous Valentina this afternoon had me reminiscing about a fantastically unexpected night out, and I found…

Summertime… And the livin’ is easy…

I’ll admit to some tears. When my brother and I rolled onto that pier at Le Grau-du-Roi, wet cheeks were the furthest thing from my mind. But suddenly they were a reality. As was a huge, fat grin. Because it had all been so much fun. I write now from a bar in Barcelona four…