Breaking the ice with strangers as you travel. We’re midway into my ten ways to break the ice with strangers when you’re travelling – and now it’s time to play the fool.
Olympus
I’m leant against the car, gasping, giggling, sucker-punched by the cold. Around me, the landscape is motionless and brittle. The tops of trees have exploded as the wind tried to bend them. Overhead, dirty clouds boil past like timelapse photography. The rock-strewn ground is so hard you expect it to ring. Take the trees and ice-rimed telephone lines away, and … Read More
Shhh! A Writer’s Guide: How To Focus By Destroying The World
Modern writers have a problem, and it’s called The World. It’s noisy and distracting. They don’t know how to focus on their work. It’s a problem. The solution is simple…destroy it. More on that in a minute.
Breaking The Ice With Strangers: Hook
Breaking the ice with strangers as you travel. The road is a lonely place. Everyone’s a stranger. You long to connect with someone, anyone, but the odds are stacked against you. You’re in too much of a hurry to engage in social bonding rituals like feasting and hanging out. There’s the natural coolness in the air. And hey, you’re not … Read More
What Are Blog Comments For?
Here is a picture of the mountains in Crete. Big, aren’t they? But this post is nothing to do with them. It’s all in the comments, folks.
How To See Airports (And Other Bad Places)
If you were traversing Terminal 5 at London’s Heathrow last August, you may have seen a writerly-looking chap sat tapping on a computer, his words being displayed on a large plasma screen over his head. This was the temporary Writer In Residence, Alain de Botton, and he was writing a book about what airports really are.
A Fine Decade I’ve Got Me Into
“Yes?” “Hello. Uh….well, I’d like to turn myself in.” “You’d what?” “I’d like to report a crime – namely me, stealing from you. Ten years ago.” “Well….uh…” “The name’s Mike. Hi! And I’m a thief. Not generally – just in your case. I’m your thief. Your own personal thief. You and me, joined by crime. It was yours, and I … Read More
Hornsea, Askance
Hi. I’m a 38 year old man, living at home with his mum. (Until she’s recovered from her recent surgery. Probably returning to York this time next week). Walking through town last night, I squinted until everything was blurry – until it was 1998 again, the last time I lived here. I listened to someone explaining the finer points of … Read More