The diary of a bemused Boomer
Mother is sitting at a table by herself. Her fingers rest on the edge of a cup and saucer half full of spilt tea. Her eyes are open, and her head is tilted backwards, perhaps thirty degrees. I can’t tell if she is gazing up a slight incline towards Heaven or is asleep. Whichever itContinue reading “Chocolate: the opiate of old age”
The woman at the British Airways desk refuses to check me in to the London flight until I can prove I am covid negative. Unfortunately, I’ve lost my covid certificate. I’ve shown her my passport, my ticket, my European locator form and my five-star guest rating on AirBnB. But these count for nothing, sadly. So,Continue reading “Chaos at Catania Airport”
I’m down on my hands and knees trying to escape from the men’s urinal at the Neapolis Archaeological Park by squeezing myself underneath the turnstile at the exit. I’m trapped in a toilet turnstile. I’m going out the way I came in not because I’m playing a perverse version of Parkour or because of aContinue reading “Trapped in a toilet turnstile”