I felt profoundly sad that day, and I realised that dementia was claiming my father piece by tiny piece, memory by memory, and with each one gone, a little more of him had died. I had begun to mourn him then, to prepare for the day I knew would come; a day I would be ready for.
In the late 1990s, I ran a business with my wife, Loly, selling and distributing Ecuadorean fair trade handicrafts in the UK. Late in 1998, while on a trip to Otavalo Market to meet some of our suppliers, I noticed some indigenous paintings being sold by a young man who introduced himself as Javier Contreras. […]
This post is dedicated to my good friend Aaron Howard, who due to a late change to Covid-19 restrictions was unable to accompany me. It was the … Hiking the Sierra Negra Volcano on Isabela
With a Wembley fixture, an expectant crowd and weather the players are accustomed to, England contrived to squander the benefits of home advantage in a fixture that underlined the constraints preventing this talented group from achieving greatness on the international stage. Southgate’s men showed some early promise, particularly through the craft and guile of Foden, […]
I had never considered myself the sort of person that would enjoy horse riding, in fact I only agreed to take Toucanto’s Cotopaxi Horseback … Horse Riding on Cotopaxi
Listen to the final part of this story above, or read it below! Missed part 1? click here! Missed part 2? click here! In the eighteen years that I have been renting out property I have encountered many different characters from dozens of countries around the world. I have spent sleepless nights worrying whether I would […]
The day I found that big ball of Marijuana under my loose floorboard I knew that the time had come to grasp the nettle and take some kind of definitive action. The owner of that huge chunk of pot would have to leave – I just needed to find out for certain who the owner was.
Welcome to this week’s offering for Friday Fictioneers. The task is to come up with a story in 100 words or less using the picture as a prompt. My story is below, I hope you enjoy it. At the bottom of the story is a link where you kind find other people’s stories to read. […]
It was the kind of cold, wet, nasty November evening when you think that Summer will probably never come again. My phone began ringing around 10.30pm which I knew from experience could only mean trouble. I let it ring and ring until it went quiet, then I picked it up to see who had been […]
I felt like the reaper was stalking me too, as if the angel of death was painting invisible crosses on the doors of those who had been chosen and wondering if I, also, was on that list.
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