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Wisley Gardens, United Kingdom “Dinosaurs!” the two young girls exclaimed, in almost unison. “Where? Come on Daddy, let’s go and see.” With a young daughter dragging on each arm, their father smiled, reluctantly pretended to be pulled towards the river’s edge, and muttered as he passed, “Thanks, mate. I suppose it’s up to me to explain?” I smiled, then nodded in reply, as the episode was entirely my doing. I was in Surrey’s Wisley Gardens, the flagship of Britain’s Royal Horticultural Society, and was spending a day wandering its 97 hectares of[...]

Brussels, Belgium I was not expecting a taxi driver with a significant belly obsession. At least a Walloon cabbie who claimed to have had, some years earlier, a massive stomach that would not fit behind his wheel. The Belgian turned towards me, dangerously, eyes off the road as he spoke, me in the rear seat, him in front, and patted his now six-pack abdomen with pride. “I lost 85 kilos,” he declared smugly, chest puffed out. We were speaking in French, schoolboy for me, fluent for him. I knew what I was[...]

Tripoli, Lebanon I blame Henry, or maybe Henrietta, as without him…or her...I simply would never have known. The agency has sent me to some truly strange places, and to do some truly strange things. You would have thought I would know what to do in any circumstance, or would at least know whom to ask. And then along came Henry, I have made him a boy, although he could easily have been a she, and female. Sexing animals, you see, has not formed part of agency training. If someone drops a bomb,[...]

Blea Rigg, near Grasmere, Cumbria, United Kingdom Many years ago, I met a farmer who had spent much of his life shepherding sheep. “You know,” the farmer said one day as we sat together swopping stories of the world, a thoughtful expression to his face, “I have yet to learn why sheep were invented.” “Wool?” I suggested. “Maybe,” he replied, “although the breed I handle is pretty hopeless for that.” “Grub?” “The world’s turning vegetarian.” “Are they as daft as they look?” I asked. “Dafter,” came the farmer’s reply, as he shrugged[...]

Tripoli, Lebanon Tell me, please, how four fully grown adults, some more ancient than the rest, can resist temptation? I may be aged a million, I may have wrinkles three metres deep, but surround me with sticky, gushy, succulent cakes and I might as well be three. When it comes to will-power, and with food I have total zero, I give way on each occasion. Diet? Me? Not a hope. Just think what I would be missing. It was Hallab 1881, somewhere near the centre of Lebanon’s Tripoli, a family business that[...]

Everywhere, worldwide Please, Mr Sniper, or Mrs as you may be, listen to me for a moment as I write. When you lie on your stomach, telescopic sight to your eye, as you adjust for veer and drift, allow for yaw, and as all your training takes hold, let me remind you of what you are just about to do. You are aiming at someone you have been told is an enemy, although on occasion you could have aimed at me. As you settle the crosshairs on your target, you will allow[...]