A tube journey – no eye contact and no conversation, everyone trying to ignore everyone else. The emptiness filled by the noisy clunking of the train, and the swaying of people as it stops and starts. Until three exuberant women break the rules by talking to complete strangers. They unpack their bags, take out colouring … More #craftmoves connects London
My eyes take notes as I travel from London Bridge to St Pancras, up and down escalators, through passageways, around curving walls, and along platforms crammed with people like me, all wanting to get somewhere else. I want to test how much I can remember once I’ve reached my destination: First up is Skinny Checked … More Impatience in Bright Boots
I sit solo at a small table in Bodegas Almau in Zaragoza, sipping a white wine and trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation of the trio of women next to me. I suppose they must be in their fifties. They eat bread, olives, ham and cheese and drink cañas (small glasses of beer from the … More Three pilgrim sisters
A blurred picture of the old gent who sits in charge (front of house) at the tiny but perfectly formed Lo Sdrucciolo just around the corner from the Palazzo Pitti in Florence. Watching us struggling to capture the garlicky tomato mix tumbling from our bruschette al pomodoro, he decides to abandon his accustomed seat by the … More Con le mani
The mid-afternoon hour is burning hot, and the busy streets of Florence are stifling, even in the shade. We seek a late lunch, a light bite washed down with something cool. So we slide into the seats of a sheltered café terrace tucked to the side of Borgo degli Albizi. We are alone. Why? Because we … More Lunch with Giovanna
Three days of solitude – the first time in nearly sixteen years that I’ve been left at home all on my own. It’s quiet. It’s still. I have space. And time … to do whatever I want. So I clean the house from top to bottom in a fast-paced frenzy – tidying, scrubbing, hoovering, shining the … More A Crude Attempt at Solitude
Our guide shakes our hands, and introduces himself with a smile. His name is Mohamad, and he is from Syria. He doesn’t disclose his surname, and when I ask if I can take photos of the tour he is about to give, he says, “Of course, but please none of me.” Mohamad is here to show … More Mohamad’s Berlin
Crikey, today we go. Time to make a plan. Three nights in Berlin with two (too cool for school) 15 year old boys (men?) and my brother. There is much ground to cover – Berlin is a big city (population 3.5m) with a complicated, turbulent history (not just 20th century), and a 21st century reputation for creativity and innovation. David Bowie … More Bis gleich, Berlin
By the time we reach the River Thames, No. 2 has taught me everything I need (or want) to know about sharks (we’ve been travelling for just 35 minutes). A chill wind whips up, so I tug my scarf tighter. My son stands at the river’s edge, moving breezily on to the subject of the seals which (apparently) splash in the murky dark depths below us. So start … More 24 hours in London – chat, clues and comedy
It’s Friday, and I run through a cloudy-grey Knole Park feeling sluggish. So I cheer myself along by composing a ridiculous poem about the stye in my left eye. Never to be reproduced outside my head, the “poem” struggles to rhyme spectacles with anything, but succeeds in carrying me to a fine cup of coffee. (By the way: for … More Sevilla’s Greener Grass
Have Paprika, Will Travel 