Head Down, Legs on Fire
The ascent began. It began gradually, and I took advantage of the absence of traffic to cycle alongside David – a rare luxury. I was most familiar with his back, and even that was usually …
Bikes and Bears
We were cycling along a mud track high up in the mountains when a bear of a man called out an invitation: ‘Sit down! Take a rest!’ He was waving us towards him at the …
A Toast to Tbilisi
The houses stood, they perched on top of each other, they sprawled. New, old, and falling apart. Nearly all had a balcony – in whatever colour they fancied. And then there were the streets: steep …
Mountaineering and the History of Fear: an Essay
If I were to fall, I wouldn’t fall far. I could feel the reassuring weight of the harness around my waist; I could feel the slight tug of the carabiners that joined me to the …
A Long, Cold Night
I crouched, shivering, beside the makeshift stove. A small pan filled with snow was balanced above the gas canister, the small blue flame hissing and sputtering in the wind. Slowly, slowly, the snow melted, decreasing …
Orkney
North. Keep going North. Keep driving – past Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester. Past the Lake District, where low stone walls trace patterns across green fields (and where we stop to buy me a pair of new …
Just a Normal Day
After breakfast, I opened my laptop I took the tram into town. When Zoom had loaded When I arrived at university, I searched for the correct link I looked for the classroom and clicked ‘join …
Making my Mark
I made my mark the other day. On the wall. First in pencil, then with a drill. It was a big moment for me. I’d been putting it off for a while, afraid that I …
Das historische Erbe der tschechischen Proteste von „Milion chvilek“: ein Essay
2019 richtete die Welt ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf Tschechien, als die Nation durch eine Reihe von Demonstrationen gegen die Regierung erschüttert wurde. In einem Land, das oft übersehen wird und dessen Bürger nicht besonders für ihr …
Do Re Mi
She moves the microphone out of the way and hands me a pair of boxing gloves. ‘Put these on.’ ‘I signed up for singing, not boxing lessons,’ I say doubtfully. ‘Trust me!’ I put the …