On Buses, Brexit and Bad English

Call me cynical, but I’m convinced that the people who work on trains and buses derive some sick pleasure from making people wait to board. I don’t know how many times I’ve stood on a platform with thirty other commuters, all of us glaring at a man in a reflective vest clutching a clipboard and... Continue Reading →

Barcelona, the Second Time

September 2016 I had first come to Barcelona three years earlier as a tourist. I’d waited for two hours to get into La Sagrada Familia, done the obligatory walk up and down Las Ramblas, shuffled through Parc Guell with hordes of other sun-baked camera-wielders, and dropped by Camp Nou, home of FC Barcelona, for a... Continue Reading →

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