Living the Dream


The storm and I descended together, the rain smashing into the tarmac. The road became a river, until at one point, it became obvious to me that Kyproulla would not make the route ahead.

Read all about it!

The Prime Minister himself, is grabbing every passing populist tidbit that he can lay his hands on. “Stop the Boats!” (And the trains). “Cease the war on the motorist.”

Five Years

I had plenty of time to consider how things would have unfolded had we been in the UK, and I’m convinced that we were very lucky to be in Cyprus.


Yesterday, Chicago lounged next to me on the office couch, as I earnestly explained that next day or two was going to be very confusing, but that everything would end up alright.


Now, London Gatwick regards itself as London’s second airport. In 2022, it handled 32.8 million passengers. At 7pm on a Saturday in August, Avis was closed. Why? Larnaca airport in Cyprus handles 5 million or so passengers a year, and its desks are open 24/7.


The dermatologist is absolutely charming, and a complete flirt. I’m not gay, and he knows that, but with a twinkle in his eye he becomes as camp as Christmas and cracks the one liners while giving my moles the once over.


I’m writing from the mountain hideaway, keeping myself out of the afternoon sun, with Sinéad O’Connor on the HomePods. What a wonderful, ferocious, tornado of talent she was, her death is so sad. RIP.

Excuses, excuses

Ivo, a splendid artist, took a few designs that I had found, discovered a means to cover up the old emblem and got to work. Six and a half hours over two sessions and the second piece was complete.
You've successfully subscribed to Writer, interrupted.
Great! Next, complete checkout to get full access to all premium content.
Welcome back! You've successfully signed in.
Unable to sign you in. Please try again.
Success! Your account is fully activated, you now have access to all content.
Error! Stripe checkout failed.
Success! Your billing info is updated.
Error! Billing info update failed.