I’M currently on something of a house/pet sitting spree.
Friends have been jetting off around the world and being the animal friendly soul that I am, and relatively house trained, I am often asked to look after Tiddles, Rover or Nemo. I draw the line at Shetland ponies, though. I was once mauled by one when I was about seven and had my Starsky and Hutch T-shirt ripped from me. That kind of experience scars a man. At one point last week I worked out that I was looking after one dog and five cats in four different locations. Just call me Doolittle. As several frustrated editors have been known to…
Flight of fancy
Last weekend marked Remembrance Sunday and it is always an occasion that makes me stop for a moment and think of those who gave their lives for our freedom and continue to do so. While in the UK it seems to be a hit and miss affair, I remember being in a small town in Belgium on one Remembrance Sunday when the entire place fell silent at the eleventh hour.
It was about this time of year that I got my strangest ever request. As a journalist, public relations fixer and sometime-event organiser, I get asked lots of things. But never as challenging as the hotel owner who wanted me to organise a fly past by a Spitfire to mark the event. I had to (tactfully) point out that:
a) There were no Spitfires located in Spain
b) Civil aviation rules would probably forbid a low level pass by a fighter aircraft and
c) The Spanish wouldn’t get it. They’d already had their war by 1939…
I trust you all enjoyed your Halloween celebrations? I decided not to partake in the annual fright fest this year. After all, I live in Marbella where I have to deal with blood suckers, ghouls, freaks, the criminally insane and the undead on a daily basis…