I seem to be at least a fortnight behind with my recent blogging. All I can say is that unprecedented distractions (in a variety of guises – work, play and otherwise) have resulted in minimal writing time.
The really lame thing about going on holiday towards the beginning of an autumn month is that you have no money left to deal life’s inordinate costs when you get back (endless Oyster top-ups, seasonal boots and coats, a fiver for a tiny carton of Canary Wharf soup etc). The …
Some years are defined by a hot summer holiday. You know the kind I mean; a holiday that you wait all year for because you genuinely believe you have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and seeking out sunshine will miraculously cure your blues (HAPPY).