I’m drinking a freshly squeezed lemon juice and looking out of the window, past the great weeping willow in the garden, to the pale blue sky over Alsace, where a trio of parachutists twirl towards the Earth.
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Lockdown Diary: Fully Booked
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Eh? Eh!? Dan only writes once a month these days, and even then it’s usually half-arsed’. Yes, friend, you are right. But I feel a smidgeon bit inspired today, and lo: words. Continue reading
Lockdown Diary: God Help Me, I’ve Started Appreciating People’s Lawns
Today is my 34th day indoors. Well… ish. Continue reading
Lockdown Diary: Bald and Unproductive
Well, I burst at the first hurdle, didn’t I? After ending my last diary entry with the optimistic ‘I think I’ll write again tomorrow ?’, I did not write a word for a full week.
I did not do it because I did not feel like doing it, and instead of being productive I got drunk for three days in a row. It was a choice that made sense at the time. Continue reading
Lockdown Diary: Yeah It’s Happening
My mum recommended I write while we’re all in lockdown. So here we find ourselves! Continue reading
Jeanne
Hello again. Continue reading
Bristol: For My Imaginary Grandchildren
It has occurred to me that, sooner than I realised, everything will be very different. Continue reading
whoaaaa been a while?!
Here you,
I’ve not posted on this site in two months. I don’t even know why, I just stopped for a while! Isn’t that irritating? No explanation for my disappearance?! Hoho! Continue reading
Paris: Muggings and Riots and Notre Dame Engulfed in Flame
After Chiang Mai came two sweaty nights in Bangkok. After Bangkok came Paris.
Jeanne and Justine got an earlier flight out of Thailand, and I arrived in the city fourteen hours after them, in the evening. By the time I arrived Justine had already left the city for Orleans, an hour or two south. Won’t be seeing her for a long time now. After a year of perpetual company and a merry-go-round of familiar faces, suddenly Jeanne and I were all that remained. Weird. Continue reading
Chiang Mai: Songkran Sogginess
I left Tasmania and my darling Seth Todd, and flew for 24 stinking hours on a succession of Jetstar flights. Let it be known, Jetstar are low in cost but high in tedium; for hours unending I had nought to do but stare at the barren headrest before me. My requests for a free little glass of water were repeatedly declined, and in the end I had no choice but to splash out and numb myself with a little plastic wine bottle. Continue reading