In one month’s time, my girlfriend and I are leaving our newly acquired home, quitting our jobs, throwing caution to the wind, and buggering off to south-east Asia for six months.
I’d like to say we had a “Oh, sod this for a laugh,” moment, and it was all off-the-cuff spontaneity. Two free spirits, hitherto chained to the doldrums of perpetual work, escaping in a passionate eruption of carefree liberty…
But the truth is, we’ve been planning it for sodding ages. And I don’t want to start this blog off with a pack of sensational lies.
Why the blog then Tim?
Well, reader, thanks for asking. Even if you are only in my mind.
Because I like writing. Indeed, I want to be a writer. And writers write, right? Right.
So I’ll be describing our trip to you, but only the bits I find interesting or remarkable; events that I wouldn’t mind reading of a stranger. I don’t want to bore you with a trite chronicle of “What a lovely noodle soup we just had”, or, “Gee whizz, look at that sunset, sunsets are great, we don’t really get sunsets at home, do we? You really ought to have seen this one, it was different to the others; you silly fools, going to work all the time, they don’t have sunsets in offices!”
No. It will be full of much more interesting things, like: “Hey look, there’s a man over there weeing in a bucket!”
That’s right: hard-hitting social commentary.
But I’ll also be posting book reviews. One of the things I loved about my last trip, to South America in 2010, was the books I was picking up from hostel book exchanges. Often, when confronted with the meagre shelves of tattered literary castaways, you are roughly shoved out of your book-reading comfort zone. You NEED a book, that’s an absolute – with the long bus rides and the arduous beach-lounging, a book is a necessity. A book when travelling is as important as having your own towel, or packing an enormous supply of Imodium.
So, from your literary womb, untimely ripped, you must yield to fictions unfamiliar and strange. Which is ace! I discovered Mickey Spillane in a book exchange in Panama, picking up My Gun Is Quick for yucks; but loved it immediately and devoured it in a week (which is bloody quick, for me). If you’ve not read any Spillane, it’s like Raymond Chandler got punched in the face and then immediately wrote a book.
I’ll also post the odd bit of flash fiction, because it’s fun and a good way to flesh out ideas before committing to them fully. Hopefully you’ll like some of them, although I’m not very good at endings.
There will also be some pretty pictures.
Next post => Tim running out