A few summers ago, myself and my now wife (who I will only ever refer to as Paspartout, in Homage to Phileas Fogg’s trusty Aide de Camp) travelled through France in a 2003 Landrover Discovery that we came to lovingly refer to as the “money-pit”, for a couple of months, after yet another “what shall we do with our lives” conversation (we thoroughly recommend Westonbirt Arboretum for this – all those trees, the fresh air, the hiding in the bushes…), we saw this as the perfect opportunity to have that “gap year” (almost) that had eluded us all those years ago. So, we went on our merry way.

Oh, and then we came home to a recession, and ended up with shittier jobs than when we left. My release has been to write – some of it here, some of it’s even getting published one day. Well, maybe.

I have a much nicer job now, by the way, but in the meantime, “On y va, Paspartout! On y va!” …

Cogito Ergo Rant