Author Archives: Lance Goodman

It is a curious thing. When one changes the social and physical environment that surrounds oneself, changes in behaviour can follow. But not necessarily the big stuff, such as suddenly learning a new language, how to trampoline or ‘poodle fettling’ with unwilling poodles. I have no desire to immerse myself in the intracacies of Arabic,Continue reading “Smokin’ Hot in Hell”

February. Hot, Dry and Dusty. My throat feels like the underside of a Bedouins’ leather sandal after a hard day’s trek trudging through the desert gravel gathering dates, locusts and the severed heads of infidels. I have not been gathering dates or anything like it. Instead, I have been in meetings via the horror thatContinue reading “Logistics”

A familiar screech from above draws my eye upwards. There, flitting overhead, are the familiar scythe like shapes of the swift, black against the pale blue cloudless sky. They chase flying insects at their ease high up in the warm rising air.  They are low enough to hear as they dance between the tops ofContinue reading “The Spice of Life”

The sky is a clear azure blue. The breeze is a mild caress of warm, not hot, air. In England this would be a belter of a very pleasant summer day. Not one of your heatwave days, just one of the days when you start thinking of a chilled glass of white wine, or aContinue reading “Lunchtime at the Pool”

Camborne is easy to get into, there are no roadblocks, especially if you come up from Praze. Redruth on the other hand requires picking your way carefully through the wrecks of burning cars while feral soot encrusted children roam the streets looking for the unwary, the lost and the unwittingly stupid to rob of theirContinue reading “In, Out, Sheikh it all about.”

Right. So I have been travelling and I’m in a different time zone. I get it, I really do. But I’m only 4 hours ahead. So why was I still awake at 0100 this morning? I can’t blame the booze. It must be the overwhelming sense of disconnection from all things familiar. There is probablyContinue reading ““Dubai, Dubai…” so good, no need to name it twice.”

Hangovers can feel like that. You reach for the pills and only succeed in grabbing some air. You half heartedly try to search for pain relief but your body says ‘no’. Everything slows down.  Everything.  Inside, every single bodily process can be felt wading in treacle, slow to react and when it does it react,Continue reading ““…freight train running through the middle of my head””

From Home to Heathrow.  “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”  Well, sometimes you do know what you have got, but the leaving of it enhances the feeling that it is, indeed, very very precious.  As a young man, leaving Cornwall was an exciting adventure. Mostly by train, I used to head ‘upContinue reading ““Go East, Old Man””

Richard Drax – Richard Grosvenor Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax – the MP for South Dorset since 2010, seen here enjoying an ice cream with another ‘Greedy Bastard’ Jacob Rees Mogg. You may think I am being gratuitously offensive using the term ‘Greedy Bastards’ so let Graham Scambler explain in his opening piece on Jacob Rees Mogg. “I’d bestContinue reading “Greedy Bastards – Richard Drax MP”

I found this story back in 2017. Still makes me chuckle: Bugger. And there was I thinking that the military was a bastion of middle class, middle England values, whose members would no more indulge in the seven deadly sins than Marks and Spencer would sell strap-ons* and hugely girthed dildos next to the children’sContinue reading “OxyMoronic Military Morality”