I noticed this man with the girl who was clearly not his daughter. It crossed my mind that she was adopted, but I knew it was probably something else. Easy to recognize The Signs. You must have seen The Signs a thousand times.
“Eh! … Until a small boy came and said, ‘The King is naked! The King is naked!’ … You know small boys have much to learn!”
My arrival in Barcelona was met by a red-hot summer’s day with the heat piercing every inch of my body. The only cold came from the shiver at the realisation that I had booked to walk for 20 miles a day in this heat. Clearly, getting older had severely impaired my common sense.
I pride myself on the fact that I am a mosquito’s last port of call. They land on stones before they land on me. I’ve been to countless malarious areas and walked away unscathed. So why – oh why – would bed bugs find me so delicious in Fiji?
Revisiting the scene of a distant memory can be a tricky business. One is never quite sure, if the ghost is you, or if the place is ghostly. The net effect of this is like wandering through a dream wide awake, very eerie.
“HIV! HIV! – Go fuck yourself!” she said. And then I woke up. Or maybe it was the other way round. Maybe a whore outside my door was actually cursing her punter and I wasn’t dreaming at all, and then, I woke up.
