Just back from my big adventure to the soggy island known as England, and the slightly smaller, but no less damp island of Arran in Scotland. Where I discovered that you can never tell what's going to happen when you grow up.
This isn't Arran. It's Holy Isle, which is the view from Arran.
When I grow up I'm going to be a Buddhist monk there. Well, in one of my other lives.
When I grow up I'm going to be a Buddhist monk there. Well, in one of my other lives.
When Nicole grows up, she's going to be a doctor during the week, an artist on the weekend and a sailor around midnight. No, wait. She already is...
Dani, my favourite piece of she-fluff. I would've voted her least likely to juggle radical chic with domesticity.
But my prescient skills are really quite shite.
But my prescient skills are really quite shite.
Me and Nicole. After 20 years of not seeing one another, we had a lot of catching up to do. When we grow up, maybe we'll get to be the Scrabble equivalent of John Turturro in Quiz Show.
And when Nikolai and I grow up, we are going to be notorious co-authors. Of something. Watch this space.
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