I don’t know when it stopped being grey outside. Lost in the passing landscape I looked up to see blazing blue skies peeking out from a blanket of grey and white cloud. Cows stood sociably together in a field to chew the cud and flick their tails against the flies. The storm had been exhilarating to watch from my train compartment: the rain thrummed against the windows, the sky bruised
There’s something about Whistler that reminds me of my home town Brighton; oh, not in appearance, it couldn’t be different. Pristine and shiny, thoroughly modern Whistler is surrounded by snow-capped mountains, its inhabitants all seem to be like the girl or boy from Ipanema, all tall and tan and young and lovely. Whereas my beloved Brighton, in the words of Keith Waterhouse, “… looks as though it is a town
It’s as we cross the slender bridge which joins north and south Pender Island together, that I realise I really should have hired a car. I’d cheerily walked off the BC Ferry at Otter Bay and hopped onboard my shuttle ride to Poets Cove Resort, but twenty minutes drive and we still weren’t there. In my head, everything had been an easy hike away; in reality Pender was a lot
I’m a huge fan of slow travel. Not accidentally slow, like a replacement bus service or a delayed plane, no, the kind of slow that lets you get a sense of distance from A to B, the kind of slow which allows you to spot birds and spy wildlife along the way, maybe even time to see the sky bruise and sunsets blaze. Definitely the kind of slow where there’s
I’m a sucker for a good train journey. I fell in love with Canada on a four night, three day, 2,775 mile journey from Toronto to Vancouver onboard The Canadian on the wonderful ViaRail a few years back. It was a transformative journey in so many ways for me; it was the first time I’d been to Vancouver and I just knew that the city and I would get along (and
Oof. Homesickness has hit. Just like Proust got sucked into a world of nostalgia and memory from one bite of a madeleine, so I found myself in tears after a sip of latte at Fable on West 4th. It was perfect; silky steamed, frothy milk and rich, smooth coffee – just exactly the way I love it – and how the fine folk at Small Batch make it in Brighton.
I’m no fan of owning a car if you live in a city. To me, public transport should be an affordable, regular and clean alternative to car-ownership for those who live in busy urban areas. Unfortunately, that’s often not the case, certainly in the UK anyway. So I’m a big supporter of car clubs schemes, like Zipcar. You sign up, reserve your car and only pay for the time that