If the Food Makes My Husband Ill, I Save It for the French [Scot Region]
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Summary
I am not an enthusiastic traveller. Abroad means dodgy lavatories and pillows dribbled on by other people. It means taxi drivers in string vests and baby-faced policemen with guns. It's hard work, and it's sweaty and uncomfortable. It is a mystery to me that I appear to have spent rather a lot of my life living on foreign shores.When the world is full of people longing to explore the most revolting corners of the Earth, why am I the one who has ended up farflung and faint-hearted in some foreign field?
Many years ago, in a moment of absentminded self-indulgence, I married a diplomat called Charlie. I still haven't made up my mind whether this was a good move or not. I turned from a happy, stay-at- home children's book illustrator into a chaotic nomad. My brain seems to be permanently locked in a suitcase, my children are lost somewhere in transit and my husband might as well have 'Heavy Baggage' tattooed somewhere on his person.See the full content of this document
Extract
If the Food Makes My Husband Ill, I Save It for the French [Scot Region]
I love Sunday newspapers and rain, queues and pork pies. I told my daughter that when I die I want my ashes to be sprinkled all the way up King's Road in Chelsea, a pinch in all my favourite haunts and the final children dusted on a cappuccino at Oriel's.
I can think of nothing nicer than being able to live in London. It works and it is beautiful. If I feel like it, I can draw a moustache on a picture of the Queen and not be beheaded.Baden-Powell's book Rovering To Success talks about navigating one's canoe through the rapids of life. I know what he means. I have rammed rocks, lost my paddle and gone up the wrong creek entirely.I cannot pretend to offer anyone travelling or living abroad the Baden-Powell guide to life, but I have made the same mistakes so often that I can now dimly recognise them. I pass them on, not so that you can avoid them - you won't - but in order to offer you some companionship when you pick yourself up from the wreckage of cultural collision.I have never really seen the point of travel, despite having run up more ...See the full content of this document
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