Tim had an unfailing ability to be able to echo locate a party at will, in fact it was a given that were you to be at any decent party on a Saturday night anywhere close to Portobello Road then there you would find Tim.
Remarkably Tim’s party nose even worked in India, A friend of mine he announced is having his 50th Birthday party down at OM beach, it’s a weekend thing, should be quite good why don’t you come? … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 12
I don’t know about you but this Rheumatoid Arthritis business is a bit daunting to say the least, why do the simplest thing have to turn into a saga?
Take for instance getting an X-ray … More X-Ray
My eyes grow weaker with the passing of the years and yet somehow I find beauty in the smallest of things where once I raced by. The voice that once boomed has grown less insistent, my ears better at listening, I learnt to recognise the fool & the sage Wise enough now to see them … More Growing Older
Saturday morning and even before six am the sun streams over the rooftops of North London and through my bedroom windows. Despite my ailing body, arthritic – worn out & decrepit telling me all is not well the sunlight streaming through the glass sings a different song. The absurdity of these last few mornings – … More Up above the chimney pots
Welcome to another thrilling instalment of Martin’s arthritis diaries. Well it’s been an illuminating week, a visit to the hospital has brought news which I was not expecting, I require a new hip, apparently one of the two that I came with is what is colloquially known in the trade as totally fuc*ed. Also an operation on … More Hippy Shit.
Tuesday morning eight a.m. & I creak the twenty steps to the bathroom for morning ablutions, my stick aids my faltering steps, knees and ankles remind me if I needed the prompt that my rheumatoid arthritis didn’t disappear by magic overnight. Business completed I open the skylight and poke my head out of the window, … More Starling
The days and the months are racing by and though I feel their passing my arthritis has this habit of subsuming any notion of time turning day after day into a Groundhog Day kind of repetition. My daily task more often than not just trying to cope with the pain in my joints and get … More Plan B Thursday.
Count your blessings, that’s what a person needs to do? One of the unexpected benefits of suffering with Rheumatoid Arthritis is that I am convinced that I’ve had so many x-rays that I will soon not need to switch on the lights at night in the house as my body will begin to glow in … More R.A. Diary – Blessed
I wake on Friday morning at five something, tune in to the BBC World service for the news, there’s something in my head that makes me feel just a little connected to the World I’m in if I listen to it without actually being out there and involved. Unfortunately there have been kidnappings in Nigeria, … More M.A.D.
“He couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag” was a once relatively common phrase in English used to describe an individual incapable of even the simplest of tasks, this term now fades into quaint obscurity as neither penny chews nor fruit and vegetables are crammed into little brown paper bags by ageing corner … More MAD – Martin’s Arthritis Diary
Saturday night London, what will it hold this City of more than seven million souls on this first evening of reimposed lockdown? Taxi’s here shouts Sam, I am the last out of the house & into the taxi, it’s a nine mile journey from a North London house into Town, we are all in masks … More Satnite
The Spaniards who first colonised these islands in the 15th Century were so enamoured with their discovery that they named them The Fortunate Islands … More The Calima
The real boss of the house comes to introduce himself. Cesare, the Cat, a beast of truly epic proportions. … More The House of the Fat Cat
The first time I remember seeing padlocks on a bridge was in Paris, on the Pont Des Arts, which straddles the Seine close by Notre Dame. When I got there I was amazed, this bridge was covered in thousands and thousands of padlocks. … More Love Locks
Two hundred years after the Poet John Keats wrote his Ode to Autumn my September back in London feels like an echo of his words. He called it the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, on a Sunday morning walk on Hampstead Heath I am kicking though the fallen leaves like an eight year old. … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 11
I arrive by train from Biarritz at St.Jean de Pied Port a little town in the foothills of the French Pyrenees where I am going to begin my Camino to Santiago. I book myself a room for two nights on the outskirts of town which should be time enough to organise things. My accommodation is … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 10
Airport Arrivals are just the best places for me, in the unlikely scenario that I were to come face to face with an Alien and be required to explain what it is to be a human being I can think of no finer place to take them to demonstrate than the arrivals section of Heathrow … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 9
Cairo is a city of more than twenty million souls, as I leave the airport all of them seem to have jobs as taxi drivers and every single one of them wants my business. Welcome to the fiery cauldron that is Egypt in July. I decide to give Cairo & Alexandria a miss, mega cities … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man. Chapter 8
Eight thousand kilometres and two continents away from London the dreams and nightmares that had woken me at three or four in the morning every day for months on end abate and then disappear entirely, the sunrise beach walks and days soaking in the sun & the sea feed my soul, just being able to … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man. Chapter 7
I step out of the plane and immediately a warm blast of air hits me, the kind you only find south of the tropic of cancer, it carries with it the scent of India, all spices and sunshine and together they bring a big smile to my face. Next its a scrummage to get through … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 6
Meanwhile on the home front my wife, whilst living elsewhere had developed a habit of dropping by the house unannounced, this I found deeply disturbing, I was just trying to hold my shit together and then she would turn up out of nowhere. Whilst it was just as much her place as mine seeing her … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 5
Undeterred by my tangle with lipstick Leanne the lady with the probing tongue a few days later I set off to a pub in Primrose Hill for a date with Roxanne, a thirty-five year old North Londoner, half Italian & half Iranian. She is tattooed and has big brown eyes, OK she also also has … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 4
A week later I return to the office, plonk my ass behind my desk and survey my little kingdom, I’m the boss at the site where I am based and nominally responsible for nigh on a hundred people up and down the country, for this I earn a six figure salary. As I sit there … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 3