It’s been six weeks since I created this blog Whalebeings.com, and as of the moment I’m writing this, an incredible 89 of you have already clicked the ‘follow this blog’ button to receive a notification when I post something new. To be honest I’m amazed and completely chuffed that you’re not only clicking on my…
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It’s mad. I’ve lived in England all my life. I’m a keen walker, I love nature, I studied Wordsworth at university, grew up enamoured by Peter Rabbit and all of his other fluffy little mates and yet, until Christmas 2020, I’d never been to the Lake District: THE most walkery, naturey, Wordsworthy, Peter Rabbity place…
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It’s about 2am in Costa Rica. I woke up an hour ago because my body thought it was 7am, which – at home in the UK, it was. Usually waking up naturally at the same time every day is useful for things like getting to work and going for a smug early jog, but not…
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I love going on adventures but I really, really, really hate packing. I don’t know why I hate it so much; it must be my Achilles heal, or athlete’s foot. I find myself doing absolutely ANYTHING else but pack in the lead up to any impending departure. I do housework, I write poems, I start…
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If you’re an average earner who’s ever spent a very large sum of money in one go with a single, terrifyingly easy click of a computer mouse, you might be familiar with the sensation I’m experiencing right now of sort of wanting to be a little bit sick. Quite a large chunk of this Sunday…
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The problem when I come to write in a public place – like here, in the restaurant on the rooftop of the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, is that as soon as I open my laptop to type, a large portion of the English language floats lazily out of my head, along with my impetus to…
Read MoreSomething weird just happened to me. Without moving my head at all, I could flick my eyes to the left and see Eastbourne, the place in England where I live and spend most of my time, and I could flick them to the right and see the northern coast of France, the country I’m currently…
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Fowey is not pronounced Fow-ee. That’s the most surprising thing about this small Cornish fishing town. Everything else is exactly as it should be. Steep narrow streets, quaint cafes offering Cornish cream teas, crooked 16th century pubs, seagulls, little shops (selling postcards, chunky jewellery, floaty dresses and those tiny wooden sailing ships you’re supposed to…
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If Herceg Novi were a person, and not a small town located at the mouth of Montenegro’s famous fjord-like Bay of Kotor, it would be a person with multiple battle wounds – perhaps a missing limb or two, definitely with severe PTSD, and a lot of stories to tell. Over the last few centuries Herceg…
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That’s the thing about Vegas. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.
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