Writing clips

Sink or swim

Published in The Daily Express,

The last time I went on a cruise I lost my favourite teddy bear and the contents of my stomach to the churning briny below. Oh, and the children’s life jacket store caught fire. Unsurprisingly my desire for further shipboard experiences hadn’t exactly been burning brightly. Until now.

Now I have a wife who likes being pampered, two toddlers with a boredom threshold teetering on zero and a personal holiday restlessness that makes staying in one place a rash-inducing experience. Read more.

Up the jungle with a Sandinista

Published in The Guardian

“You can swim here if you like,” said Yaro, flopping into the waist-high water and hauling our boat onto a sandbank. From deep within my memory, bells were ringing about tiny jungle parasites that find no greater pleasure than swimming straight up your plumbing and co-habiting your vital organs. Plus, there was of course the crocodile infestation and the world’s only freshwater sharks that lurked never far away.

“No thanks, I’ll just watch.”

Besides, it was raining. A lot. But then this was the rainy season in Nicaragua… read more

Adrenaline-lovers of the Arctic Circle

Published in The Guardian

Frank Sinatra crooned ‘We’re on the road to romance’ as the plane touched down at Kiruna, 200 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle. It looked more like the road to nowhere. The terminal was half buried under drifting snow and all around the desolate landscape boasted no more than frozen wasteland veined by naked trees. Still, it wasn’t Albert Square and that’s all that mattered, I was here to do battle with the elements, my own comfort zone and unbeknownst to me, a rebel husky named Ranger.
The following morning it was minus 24 and I was a bit loath to help tether the dogs to our sled. To be honest, I was a bit loathe to do anything bar stand with my mittens in my armpits and think of armchairs, open fires and remote controls… read more

A Dirty Week in Spain

Published in Sunday Times Travel magazine

Celebrations are often outlandish affairs for Spaniards. But not content with the usual glut of alcohol, music and dance, certain fiestas in Iberian territory now demand nothing less than a complete and utter baptism in whatever substance is the cause celeb.
Perhaps none is more bizarre than the pre-lent battle on the island of La Palma, reserved sibling of the seven Canary Islands. For most of the year, the islanders quietly work the hilly green terraces for bananas and tobacco. But in February they head down from their hillside hamlets to the pocket-sized capital Santa Cruz when on Carnival Monday, the colonial town turns into a war zone.
It’s a day when the tiny Green Island wanes pale amidst an orgy of hand-to-hand combat employing nothing more sinister than squeezy bottles of baby softener. Over 5,000 kilograms of ammunition is discharged in powder-puff clashes during the batalla de polvos de talco (talcum powder battle) and a kilogram or two had just been kindly dumped on my head. A fine way to treat your visitors… read more

Leaving la vida loca - Ibiza

Published in Real Holidays magazine

“Ibiza,” I suggested, idly flicking through a travel brochure at breakfast one morning.
“You’re not 18 now,” reminded Joy, my wife.
“It’s not just for ravers anymore,” I countered. “It’s for people like us – cool, calm and sophisticated.”
“Your sleeve’s in your Cocoa Puffs,” she said. I could see she was unconvinced… read more