Dreams Archive

I’ve done a fair bit of walking on this trip. As I’ve walked around, I’ve not, as is customary, looked in the expensive shop windows of Milan. I’ve been more interested in the grey, soulless looking buildings that sit above, or behind that gloss of fashion. It’s no secret that I would like to live out here one day – preferably in the North, either Turin or Milan. If I was to move the family – including Nonna *shudder* then, to do it before we are too old, I would have to find a job out here. Amy has taught English abroad before, and I guess would not be adverse to doing so again. I don’t think I have the patience/interest to spend the next

Read More...

I don’t dream. Not really. At night maybe, but not with what you might call hope. Not in that genuinely enthusiastic way people with aspirations do. People who tell the world what their dream job might be, or where they hope to be living in 5, 10, 15 years time. I talk long of my love for Italy, and how I’d one day like to live out there. That of course could be viewed as a dream. But ask me what I might do whilst I’m out there and the mind kind of draws a blank. I want the location; I just have no idea how to get past the language, the skills and the determination. Dreaming just isn’t in my nature. The problem you

Read More...

A guest blog for the Dear Mr Levy website. A site dedicated to the trials and tribulations (with the occasional happy, positive post) down at Tottenham Hotspur FC Here I am allowed to dream; to slip back in to my childhood and remember a time when Spurs were once a European force. Oh what a night that was…. European Dreams

Read More...

I’m going through what can only be described as a mid-hair life crisis. Or is that a hair’s midlife crisis? Either way, it’s not a midlife crisis. I’m not fantasising over expensive Italian cars, nor am I considering throwing my lot in with an employee who leans in seductively as we talk about the Petersen Account. The crux of the problem is simple – I no longer feel comfortable in my hair. The stuff on my head that is, not the creeping, vine like growth over the rest of my body. It started a couple of Christmases ago. A trip down to see the family got me thinking: “Everyone’s foreheads seem bigger than they did last year.” Then I noticed a scar on my own

Read More...

I can still see the sun bouncing off the mosaic on the façade of the Basilica of San Frediano in Lucca – illuminating the figures, as if by celestial spotlight. The warmth of the streets circling the Colosseum in Rome, as morning turned to afternoon – even the rolling, vine filled hills and airless piazza in Greve; stomach still churning due to the winding roads we navigated up from Florence. We stopped there for food. Each time the venue of choice showed nothing to suggest the pleasures that were to follow. They offered little to distinguish themselves from the other eateries around them. No obvious sign of culinary superiority. Yet those first advances in to their menu still live with me today. Close my eyes

Read More...