Author. Journalist. Human
Occasionally, I have tea with Carrie Fisher. She’s much softer face to face. I think we both like the time we spend together because it distracts us from our real lives – her from her fame, me from my lack of any.
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I’m sitting in a bar with a friend, just a few hundred metres from a stretch of remaining Berlin Wall that flanks the river on this side of town. It’s late October, it’s well past dusk, and the rain that has consistently fallen since I arrived in this city is busy reflecting and animating the electric lights of surrounding buildings, passing cars, and the occasional glare of the overhead trains that intermittently rumble past our window. My first impression of this city is that it is hard, brutal, monochrome. Why then do I instantly feel comfortable here?
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This book is RANDOM … as is my life “This is my life. It’s not an outstanding one; it’s probably much like yours – except with me in it. * * * * * * * * After forty days and forty nights of wandering through Europe in their Mazda MX5 Miata, Adrian and his wife, Natalie, are back home […]
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‘You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.’ ‘That’s a strange way to start a conversation,’ I say. My wife tuts loudly and leaves the room. I’ve just done a twelve-hour shift. At the moment, I’m mostly thinking about murdering all of my colleagues, setting fire to the building, and disappearing to Bolivia to become a […]
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