61 – Figs

After a cup of green tea in the Gadagne museum and a cake that tasted of chalk, I wandered up to the deserted Parc de Hauteur to pick figs. What would I have been doing on a Sunday afternoon ten years ago, apart from washing back post-party-pints in a dirty pub in East Nottingham? My mind is hazy of that period, but one thing is sure. There were no fig trees. Continue reading “61 – Figs”

60 – Sixty

I could have written a book in the time it took me to redesign this blog. What I thought was a good idea had me sitting in my office until seven o’clock last night staring into a screen like some fast-food addicted, techno geek. A man who’s lost all sense of purpose. A man with no hope. A man who thinks an apple is a computer. Continue reading “60 – Sixty”

59 – Aqueduct

It’s amazing how you can miss things. Walking up to Fourvière on Sunday I was looking for the Roman Aqueduct that once supplied the city with water over 2000 years ago. I wasn’t expecting much, but looking up at the two surviving columns that once held up one of the thousands of arches that formed the 78 kilometre structure, I was a touch disappointed. Continue reading “59 – Aqueduct”

58 – Nationality

It’s not easy to switch nationality. You can apply for citizenship, get a passport, fly the flag. But if you can’t kill a bull at nine paces, sluice back vodka and milk for breakfast; eat rice with chopsticks; fold a pizza in half and still call it a pizza; or wear a beret without looking totally ridiculous, then you’re not from the country you think you’re from. You’re an outsider at best. Continue reading “58 – Nationality”