Asked the other day for my favourite book ever read, I was utterly stumped. Does one pick a lofty tome to suggest culture, a favourite pick-me-up-whenever-blue book or an inspiring biography?
After much deliberation, I realised it was actually a non-fiction compilation, a small embossed account of international travel, expeditions to foreign lands, and the occasional luxury day trip.
Travelling by train through several countries this weekend (England to Amsterdam via France & Brussels) it struck me how much I adore brandishing my little black and silver book. Not just a record of any old journey, it’s a series of travel diaries charting adventures in far-off lands. Each stamp is irrefutable proof of another country conquered, another way to remember.
Every new country is another lesson learned, an additional culture experienced and more tastes of a different way to live life. Perhaps I’m being overly sentimental, but I don’t really want new-fangled technology to replace my dog-eared record…