I like to walk up hills.
Often I do so alone but sometimes, and preferably to share the experience, in the company of friends or family.
I am very proud to be British in the patriotic, rather than a nationalistic, sense (George Orwell explains it well in his essay “Notes on Nationalism“). I am part English, Scots and Irish.
When I was a boy, a long time ago now, I dreamt of scoring a try for Scotland at Murrayfield and opening the batting, with Geoffrey Boycott naturally, for Yorkshire and England. Alas this was not to be. As I said “in my dreams”.
I’ve been so very fortunate to have experienced and lived the majority of my life in the Far East (Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam) and the Middle East (Qatar, Oman and U.A.E). I still however retain a strong emotional attachment to the British countryside, most notably, Galloway, the Highlands and Western Islands of Scotland and the North Riding of Yorkshire.
I am currently living and working in Thailand with my wife and three children.
I’m past the half century now and I can’t help but feel that some of the mountains that I have recently climbed I might have done so yesteryear. They get higher as I get older – not the right way around surely? The mind however remains willing even if the legs are not always so.
Here are some of my stories and “realised” dreams of hills climbed and dales and desert crossed. If you happenstance upon this – please enjoy.