Ten Nights at the Hotel Murat

In the 17th century a steady stream of English gentry would don heavy linens, fill their wallets with Daddy’s money and make an educational rite of passage through Europe.

The Hotel Palazzo Murat, nestled in the green culdera of Positano’s bosom is the sort of place they would end up, and so it seems, have I. Read More

I have one thing left

I have one thing left; a fridge.

It is the last remaining testament to a life of ‘owning’ things. Little does the fridge know however, as it unassumingly chills my wine and cheese, that it too will go.

You see I’m 38 and I’ve just sold everything I own. Read More

What Are You Looking at? The Voyeur Inside Every Writer

I have a friend who is a psychologist. I have yet to see a person meet her and not worriedly suggest that she has been analysing them.

Little do they know that this couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s not my friend who’s watching them.

It’s me. Read More

The day I kissed a dead man

Somewhere in the depths of a Parisian cemetery there is a tombstone with my lipstick on it.

It is smothered in red from people all over the world. People who wanted to kiss a dead man. Read More

Three reasons every teacher should become a student

Teachers spend a lot of time telling other people what to do. They organise, instruct, facilitate, demand, cajole and convince.

There is a lot of… Students stand up. Sit down. Open your books. Look this way. Listen. Follow me. Do your homework. I said sit down.

Yes, there is a lot of that. And most of it is necessary. But somewhere along the way, after all of that time telling other people what to do, teachers forget what it’s like to be on the other side of the weight of expectation and the wagging finger.

Perhaps what’s called for is a little table turning. Perhaps all teachers should become students for a day. Read More