One of the aspects of travel I love most, that I keep mentioning, is the juxtaposition of and vascillation between the sublime and the daily, the sometimes ridiculous. An introspective walk through Paris with painful shoes. Communist history, Communist humour and beer in Prague. People watching to witness daily shoppers, silly children, and enamoured lovers. … Continue reading »
On meeting Maggie in London and Prague
See her there? Mrs. Thatcher, hanging on the stone cellar walls of a pub in Prague, watching students drink beer and listen to post-punk live music. She’s frozen pale in her pop art picture frame; like a vampire encased in an eternal tomb, forced to ever-after gaze down upon behaviour she would most certainly have … Continue reading »
