Reillys on Tour

The Reillys had set out on their summer holidays. Benjamin, James and the Reilly parents were going to stay with some friends on a working farm in rural Devon. The farm was proudly carbon-neutral; it generated electricity and had its own water supply. This was a holiday that could only be more middle class if they breastfed the livestock hummus. Rather than travel directly from Twickenham to Devon, the family had opted to break up the journey. So it was that on a Wednesday evening the Reillys found themselves outside their Somerset Airbnb and in need of food. Having wheelspun into the driveway, Mr Reilly was driving no further. Instead, the four of them set out on foot to search for dinner. After an initial disappointment, involving a delapidated pub with ashtray and bleach issues, technology was consulted. According to Mrs Reilly's phone, a 50's America style diner could be found just fifteen minutes walk away. Whilst Mrs Reilly had misgivings about the health qualities of...

As I have grown older, I've become aware of a characteristic of mine, which I don't much like. It's not casual racism or a prediliction for keeping a lap dog in a handbag about my person. It's more complicated than that. It's my face. Or at least: that's where it starts. I have a resting facial expression that gives off a vibe. A hostile one. Not intentionally; it's just well... It's a thing. My face at rest looks like Vinnie Jones thinking "you don't get to talk about my mum". I get it from my father, who got it from his father, who in turn... All the way back to Cro-Magnon man. Somehow my family line has managed to maintain the same physical characteristics as the European early modern humans of 15,000 years ago, almost without compromise. I used to joke about this with people. Then one afternoon, in a moment of boredom, I decided to google what Cro-Magnon man looked like. You know you get those artists impressions of long dead spec...

I proferred the binbag. "All the rubbish; in here please". Conor turned to his right, "Una, will you climb in now?" Una grinned and mimed throwing objects into the sack. "There's my hopes and dreams right there Conor." Conor, Una, Lisette and I have known each other for half our lives. Well; Conor's not quite there - he's the elder statesman of our group. We met when we were working for British Airways as students, and living in Hounslow's finest dodgy digs. Since that time we've been scattered to the four winds; Una to Ireland, Conor to Switzerland. Lisette and I, well, maybe 3 miles tops to Twickenham. In seeking a mutual meeting place we found ourselves reaching for the logistically logical location: Italy. (I know; like a stepladder where you least expect it.) In keeping with how we first got to know one another, luxury accomodation was not our priority. We decided to camp. Can there be a fuller way to challenge your fear of...