I am supposed to be writing about something else today, but I simply cannot resist the call of my screen...
NÎMES, FRANCE. There is something very soap-opera-ish about travelling – those niggling unknown eventualities; like coincidences and chance meetings, language and barriers, inconveniences and crowds, irritations and line-ups, a winning resourcefulness and . . . ultimately – great art, wonderful food, and air conditioning.
In an English politician’s world there are always detractors, and their ire is nowhere more visible – apart from the London daily newspaper’s op-ed cartoons, than on the walls and hoarding boards of the inner city streets.
