"Fear and Loathing in Middle England" was the title of my online journal between July 1998 and April 1999. This was before "blogging" and RSS were things, and journals were generally stumbled upon via the Open Pages and Chapter Two web rings.


Meeting with dodgy blokes to receive a bundle of used £20 notes is not how I usually spend my lunchtime. Cash, to me, is something that usually only exists in cyberspace - numbers on a web screen or graphs

Is Sylvia There?

Long 450 miles drive home.  We stopped off in Inverness for some lunch, and it really impressed me (the city, I mean, not the sandwich - although that was OK too).  It seemed to be a cute, modern little town,


"You seem to be going awfully fast," said the perspiring southern lady on the footpath to Stac Pollaidh, "would you pull me up?" I smiled politely, but in reality I was both shocked and pleased to have realised that over

Relative Sobriety

Anakin rock (uh-huh).  The female vocalist wailed like a cross between Courtney Love, Manda Rin and Siousie Sioux whilst the band backed her up with a big sound resembling a meeting of Mogwai and the Smashing Pumpkins.  I was most

No Such Deviations

I first wandered up the long track toward Beinn Dearg a year ago, when Daffy insisted we leave it at an early stage and clamber up through snow-covered heather onto a large rounded ridge which seemed to go on forever


Giddy. Looking forward to getting away from it all for a short time. I feel like I did when I was seven years old, the evening before a promised excursion to a theme park. Mobile phone and email conversations have