Expat.

When I was fifteen I went to the assembly rooms in Lancaster and spent fifty quid on a long black leather coat. I wore it everywhere – to university at Manchester and for five years working in London. I loved that coat, it was real vintage. The label inside the collar said, in small type: … Continue reading Expat.

Angkor National Museum

In the good old days, museums and galleries used to be portico-fronted, with large Doric columns and a grand staircase. The point was that you ascend to beauty and truth: it takes a little hard work. People fought and died, or dreamed great dreams of beauty and truth; you can’t just stroll in. Gradually, over … Continue reading Angkor National Museum