Aircraft Medicine

I've purposefully not named routes, companies or people involved here. I've also tried to keep my level of detailed description to a minimum. This is to protect the dignity and confidentiality of all involved. In Five Feet Apart, love cannot be expressed by human touch. In this heart-wrenching and unflinching portrayal, two Cystic Fibrosis patients... Continue Reading →

Thomas Cook: A Protest Poem

This is because complaining to customer service, requesting staff be better supported to deal with bad behaviour (which costs money), or suggesting 'safety-first-flying' might come before maximising profit, would achieve nothing. So instead I resort to writing appaling poetry. Sadly, despite the best efforts of TC staff, I've still never felt so unsafe on a... Continue Reading →

Man

"Man is now able to fly through the air like a bird, he is able to swim under the sea like a fish, he is able burrow beneath the ground like a mole. Now if only he could walk the earth like a man, this would be paradise." Tommy Douglas

Bakau: More Breakfast, Less Fear

I last had breakfast in The Gambia thirteen years ago. I don't remember what the breakfast tasted like, but I do remember feeling both amused and nauseous. Yahya Jammeh, then president, was making a televised appearance. He directly addressed 'all homosexuals' in The Gambia, kindly offering them forty-eight hours to leave the country. At the... Continue Reading →

Sainsbury’s Shame

Scarred nose, Tired tracksuit, Possibly homeless. A man in black suit and tie, Beckons scarred man. Offers him bread and jam. Security follow him around, Sainsbury's must earn every pound. Suited man pays, Says take care, And leaves. Security man pounces, And scarred man, Defenceless, Argues. I intervene. Less swearing, Posher accent. It's all paid... Continue Reading →

Flashback

The siren passes, and the blitz of blue and yellow flashes past a moment later. Then all is quiet. From the spacious front seat of the National Express coach I have panoramic views across Leeds' city limits and the M621. The coach smoothly accelerates under a sign for London and Wakefield and we join the... Continue Reading →

Dreaming Cat

I leave the cafe just in time for the sunshine to turn to rain. And this is not African rain. African rain is like British hailstone, only it’s made of hot pelting rain, not ice. However, African rain normally floods everything for about an hour and then stops. Today’s rain is European rain. It’s less... Continue Reading →

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