Took the fireworks and the vanity, the circuit board and the city streets.
In which NYC and I do Round III.
Cronut-town
And now I’m on a plane to New York. I have 60 hours in New York City: it feels like a challenge. I’ve never liked this city. However, I’m fairly certain that that’s my fault, not its.
I’ve held dreams of Boston all my life
It’s all I can do not to fall asleep in my Sam Adams, raw clams and marshmallows.
Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one
The London dark gnawed at me.
What do you dream of on the West Coast when my head is aching in GMT?
In which we road trip and there are too many characters: the Cub, Badger, Bunny, Bunky, Powerjam, brother, sister, as yet un-nicknamed cousin, Nakiska, Flipper and friends. And, unsurprisingly, too much drinking.
The boots with the furrrr
“It’s aprés!” I laugh.
“It’s what?”
“You’ve never…? Oh wow.”
Hit Enter
I have nailed this Heathrow thing, I think, as I arrive at the airport at precisely the time I had planned, being precisely 2 hours before my flight, stroll into the priority check in, make one particular purchase from Jo Malone and buy my favourite guilty lunch (Leon’s fish finger wrap, I’m so English now) and then the gate is announced and I take my bulkhead row seat and peruse the menu (one meal, 9 hours? Jokers).
The minotaurs aren’t real, the minotaurs aren’t real
He scrawls his number on a card. “You have trouble, you call me, Alexandra.” (The Greeks love my name.) “Just call,” he urges, eyes crinkling around the edges.
White Islands
Have I said this before? How wonderfully disorientating I find it to land in a foreign place after dark, not knowing what to expect when you wake the next day…
A glittering turquoise and the sapphire seas
Today we step out into the bristling heat of Menorca, palm trees helping to set the scene. How did I get here?
An unsettlingly big place 