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Dunmail Raise, Cumbria, United Kingdom Walking in the footsteps of history can make me behave oddly. I realised that, as I scrambled up the bouldered path leading to the Lake District’s Grisedale Tarn from the busy main road below. The path had so much history, it was impossible to avoid being drawn in. I was following the same route, passing the same waterfalls, listening to the same crunching beneath my feet, as did King Dunmail’s warriors, more than a thousand years before me. The year was 945AD and King Dunmail was ruler[...]

Hermanville, Normandy, France Not so long ago, I was standing in a churchyard looking at a line of perfectly positioned plaques. There were at least 30. Beside the plaques stood the graves; almost all carried the names of once good friends, yet each had died doing what soldiers do. Fighting, so the rest of us can continue our cushioned existence. There was Jimmy, who had talked to me only hours before his death, convinced he would not be a survivor. I had told him not to be daft, that men like him[...]

Troutbeck, Cumbria, United Kingdom “Good morning!” No reply. The man in black was looking serious as he strode down the path towards me. Maybe he had missed my greeting. “Good morning!” I repeated, this time a little louder. Anyway, the wind was picking up and it was possible the stranger had not heard. He was walking fast, alone, black rucksack in position, head down as if studying the grass-cum-stone surface of the lane. He was like a scientist on the verge of some earth-shattering discovery. Yet he was past within moments, looking[...]

Tripoli, Lebanon “The old train station? I’m a tourist. I know nothing about railways.” The man listened to my protest with bemusement. His English was good, his grey beard perfectly cropped, his bearing full of confidence. Rumour had it that apart from owning the Via Mina Hotel, in whose reception I was standing, he was also expert at yoga. “Go on,” he encouraged. “There you will see all of Tripoli.” With a friendly, backhanded sweep he directed me to the hotel’s front doors. “Tell me what you think when you return,” he[...]

Jerusalem, Israel I never met Jesus, but rather wish I had, as not only did a religion develop around him but an industry as well. There is no better place to see this than in Jerusalem and no better place in Jerusalem than the Garden Tomb. It was down a peaceful alley, outside the city walls, and a place I was encouraged to visit by friends. It was where they said Jesus had been entombed. I arrived at the tomb the moment the front gates opened in the morning; it was odd[...]

Chania, Crete, Greece I have a plan, a brilliant one for retirement. As I wander the streets of Chania, Crete’s second largest city, it is clear what I must do. I will join the Greek elderly, sit at a harbourside café table, which will be round, metal and maroon, and stir my coffee clockwise - it has to be clockwise for some reason - while discussing the problems of our era with likeminded retirees. I will grow a grey beard, develop a paunch, and stare into the distance with authority. For that[...]