Breakfast in Istanbul

I’m quite famished. Sally and I are hovering around one of the oldest mosques in Istanbul, obscured by the trade of food and coffee, canopies littered with branches and leaves of ancient trees that have resisted the pollution and pushes of the Beyoğlu neighbourhood, and somehow find themselves taller than the buildings that surround them. We…

Sassy and Lulu hit London

I think we’ve unconsciously developed a cunning plan to avoid theft in London. Use our unavoidably base Australian accents, excitable volume levels, innuendo, cloying cliche, laughter and non-PC dialogue to attract the attention of everyone around us. Nobody’s going to dare stick their maw in my handbag whilst everyone is looking at us, wondering what…

Oh my Gordes

Some French villages are real. They have prospered and struggled with the ages and the ebb and flow of humans – the traits of the inhabitants varying as much as the quantity. One century, a byroad brings trade and wealth. The next war and desolation. Children leave for the big smoke. Families return for the…