Next to my dentist’s surgery, my favourite stopover is the Old Dutchman’s Dairy Farm (now renamed Dutchmen Dairy) in Sicamous, British Columbia, on the road from Calgary to Vancouver. Our first “family” trip was for Alex’s christening, when my whole English family and...

“To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand And eternity in an hour.” William Blake Auguries of Innocence My favourite place to visit is… my dentist’s surgery. I’m lying prone on my back on a flat bed, the...

It was a sad day when Hamid returned from his holiday in Morocco. He brought me a present: a very expensive-looking, soft-leather mini satchel. “I’m so tired of seeing you use plastic bags to carry your diary. I brought you this.” “But Hamid, I’ve used plastic bags...

As a budding author, each week I have to withstand the ordeal of an interview. In over a hundred of them, the same question crops up time and time again. It may come at the beginning of an interview or insert itself at the end. It is as certain to come as death and...

Each summer, the first day of our family visit to London was always a stroll through Piccadilly with Alex. Laura and Chris, uneasy travellers by plane, were shaking off their jet lag in our hotel room. Across the broad boulevard, facing Green Park tube station, stood...

Standing in line at our local Safeway checkout, I observed the most beautiful woman. She must have been sixty, yet age had not withered her. Glancing away so as not to seem obvious, I turned my head back towards her—and became paralysed with shock. It was Laura, my...

Drat! Our guests from out of town were arriving today. I wouldn’t be able to attend to my favourite pastime. Thursdays were always my locked away times—dedicated to drafting a book chapter to send to my editor. We would then meet face-to-face the following Tuesday to...

“Where are we?” I asked in bewilderment. “Antequera,” replied Laura. “It’s a town, an hour and a half from where we’re going. They’re building a high-speed rail line. Unfortunately, for the time being, it stops here. We have to change to a local rail line to Granada....

“Andrea, where are your Turkish—sorry, Greek delights?” I asked the owner of The Romantic Grocery and Gift Emporium. Since the partition more than thirty years ago, all references to Turkey were frowned upon in this part of Greek Cyprus. “Which ones?” There were...

Gnawing hunger woke me up. I opened my balcony to the Mediterranean. Although evening had crept in , its cooler air hadn’t. I skipped down the marble stairs to the lobby. A waif-like concierge looked up at me, her high heels and ramrod back not quite giving her the...