There are two kinds of people in this world: those who can do things in moderation, with self-control and will-power, and those who actually exist.
We barrelled down a gravel road to a steep drop, descending in a terrifying corkscrew. We stepped on to the glacier, took pictures, and knew it would soon be gone.
What I am looking for is something fresh and foreign, delivered to me at the time promised when I place my order. I want as little human interaction as possible, and I am willing to pay.
I am not going to sit here in my ivory tower of intellectual detachment and tell people to “get over it”. Do not get over it. You will never get over it.
A few years ago my partner and I realised that we were done with simple carbohydrates: Pasta had failed us too often; I could never cook white rice to save my life; and spuds had just become background noise.
A university education does not / will not / can not imbue you with life lessons. None whatsoever: that’s not what it’s there for. A university is there for academic degrees and doffing you on the head.
Floorboards creaked underfoot as I made my way back through the house. I had never been in a house like this, yet it was utterly familiar in layout.