The best thing about my job in London as the Creative Director for a Jermyn Street, bespoke shirt liftin.....oops, making firm, was the long holidays you could build up. The longer you stayed the more you got, and after seventeen years l was wangling about ten weeks a year if took at the right time.
This allowed me to get back up here every month for a long weekend of six days. Two weeks were spent on family holidays in France with Mum, my Brother, his wife and their children. One week was spent on a debauched hedonistic clubby holiday, which changed year by year depending on where was 'in' at that moment.
My favourite holidays though were spent by myself in Africa. Once my responsibilities at work were over for Christmas, usually by the middle part of November, l was free to take time off and leave all the damn festivities and tinsel, and seek out some sun on my pasty body.
The first time l went l just asked for somewhere 'hot' in the travel agents leaving in two days. l was thinking of Jamacia. An hour later l was spending a hundred quid in the BA travel clinic in Regent St. having jabs for Kenya.
The flight meant after refueling in Cairo [welcome ciggie break,] we flew south just as the sun was coming up. It was one of the most beautiful flights of my life. There were no clouds, as basically we followed the route of the Nile. Even at 30,000 feet everything was so vivid. Having my nose glued to the window also meant l could ignore the little boy who was sat next to me who was puking up.
After having seen the little ribbon of green around the Nile become smaller, and the arridness of the Sudan and Eithopia, and the majestic sight of the snow capped Mount Kenya rise from the flat landscape, that part of the thirteen hour journey came to an end as we touched down in Nairobi.
Looking forward to finding the 'pen' were smokers would be allowed to indulge our dirty habit, as l left the plane door the first thing that hit me was the smell.
A certain oil smell takes me right back to the docks in Newcastle in 1969 as we were about to sail to Denmark for our family holiday. This was even more noted and stored by my nasal memory bank. The smell as l stood on this great Continent, l had never experienced the like of before.
Red, it smelt red. As red as the earth l was now stood on. It was hot and humid and just coming to the end of the rainy season. Wood smoke was also in the air but l couldn't see any. It's such a powerful aide de memoire, but l don't have the skill to fully describe quite how strongly it affected me. By the way it wasn't a bad smell, just totally alien.
The first week was to be spent on safari, followed by ten days at the beach resorts near Mombassa.
Finger ache.
To be continued...
This allowed me to get back up here every month for a long weekend of six days. Two weeks were spent on family holidays in France with Mum, my Brother, his wife and their children. One week was spent on a debauched hedonistic clubby holiday, which changed year by year depending on where was 'in' at that moment.
My favourite holidays though were spent by myself in Africa. Once my responsibilities at work were over for Christmas, usually by the middle part of November, l was free to take time off and leave all the damn festivities and tinsel, and seek out some sun on my pasty body.
The first time l went l just asked for somewhere 'hot' in the travel agents leaving in two days. l was thinking of Jamacia. An hour later l was spending a hundred quid in the BA travel clinic in Regent St. having jabs for Kenya.
The flight meant after refueling in Cairo [welcome ciggie break,] we flew south just as the sun was coming up. It was one of the most beautiful flights of my life. There were no clouds, as basically we followed the route of the Nile. Even at 30,000 feet everything was so vivid. Having my nose glued to the window also meant l could ignore the little boy who was sat next to me who was puking up.
After having seen the little ribbon of green around the Nile become smaller, and the arridness of the Sudan and Eithopia, and the majestic sight of the snow capped Mount Kenya rise from the flat landscape, that part of the thirteen hour journey came to an end as we touched down in Nairobi.
Looking forward to finding the 'pen' were smokers would be allowed to indulge our dirty habit, as l left the plane door the first thing that hit me was the smell.
A certain oil smell takes me right back to the docks in Newcastle in 1969 as we were about to sail to Denmark for our family holiday. This was even more noted and stored by my nasal memory bank. The smell as l stood on this great Continent, l had never experienced the like of before.
Red, it smelt red. As red as the earth l was now stood on. It was hot and humid and just coming to the end of the rainy season. Wood smoke was also in the air but l couldn't see any. It's such a powerful aide de memoire, but l don't have the skill to fully describe quite how strongly it affected me. By the way it wasn't a bad smell, just totally alien.
The first week was to be spent on safari, followed by ten days at the beach resorts near Mombassa.
Finger ache.
To be continued...