Memories Archive


  “Vodka Limon por favor” I said to the young lady behind the bar, as she sloped off to quench the thirst of yet another local ahead of me. She sniffed the air – my money obviously not good enough for her. Deciding this could take awhile, I turned, instead, to resume my conversation with

Postcards from Milan – The fallen

Memories, friendships, calories and Mulino Bianco products – are just some of the things I will be taking back from this trip. They are the lucky ones. For not everything I have with me in Milan will be making the return leg home. My shoes, which have served my working life and rare smart social

Postcard from Vercelli – Otter’s pocket

I was going to give this post the subtitle ‘warmth’. Not as in temperature, but the warmth shown by one person to another – or in this case, lots of people. But then it started to rain. And rain. And rain. My whole top half is a mess of hair and cotton, stuck, like cling

Postcards from Rome – Postscript

This is the postcard where I just dump stuff. The parts, and places, that didn’t quite get the time – or warrant the attention of their own, individual postcard. The disappearance of Cacio e Pepe from the average restaurant/tourist menu was rather disappointing. Travellers clearly no longer see the want or the value in plain

Postcards from Rome – Thanks for the Mem/Cal-ories

I feel bloated. It’s post beer, rich food, average night’s sleep – bloated. Sleep interrupted by thoughts of a return – thoughts of a departure. I think we all had those thoughts. Even LLK – who spent three nights comfortably sleeping in a double bed, before falling out of it on her last night. In

Maybe it’s because i’m a Londoner

What a mess. I’m finding it hard to watch the images on the screen. Even harder listening to the empty shell of a man trying to fathom why someone has set fire to his family business. What makes it hard is that the images are not from some far off battlefield, or political hotspot –

Guest Blog: The Football Express

This guest post is part of a series of first memories of football. As the piece explains, this match wasn’t my first actually footballing memory – more the first time I can recall football actually meaning something more than just being a game, on TV, where the result was a mere formality. When it started

Your wider family

Yesterday we sat around a table eating food with people we call friends. It was the second Sunday in succession that we’ve had reason to do that. Some of those friends we get to see on a weekly or at least monthly basis. Others, we haven’t seen – or may not see for years. Yet

My friend in porn

Ok, so the title is slightly misleading. It’s not meant to imply that porn is the friend; a crutch I rely on when I’m down or have certain urges. No. What I mean is that I have a friend who works in the porn industry. A friend who now goes by the professional name of