At the end of my previous post, I think I possibly went off at the deep end with fascism, climate change, and Phaedrus, and my readers are owed an explanation, so I’ll attempt one and hope that it proves satisfactory.
Continue reading “Of Dust and Valour”
Despite the late finish the previous evening, I roll out of bed at 7am as usual, pull on jeans, a t shirt and flip flops and make my way down to breakfast. This is the most upmarket hotel I’ve stayed in during the trip, delusionally boasting 4 stars, and easily the worst. Breakfast is a wilted, dry and tasteless affair. The coffee is probably the most awful I’ve had in two decades, although not as bad as one I’d tasted in a Northern Irish prison early in my career as a justice reformer.
Continue reading “The Long Ride South (part 4: Zaragoza)”
Blac Ridere 