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Gabriel O'Rorke
I arrive at City Airport. The check-in lady squints at my passport. Maybe she knows something. A few drawn-out minutes pass and she hands it back. Perhaps she’s just short-sighted. Or half-witted. “This will be no normal mission, it’s a literary affair”, the memo from HQ said. “Tolstoy and KGB will be involved. He has…
It was just amazing, I tell my green-tinged boyfriend. Amazing is a selfish word; it gives nothing, but manages to be scattered liberally across conversation. I probably should have taken him and not my mother. Oh well. The transformation of this Georgian house to a luxury getaway was funded by billionaire Jim Ratcliffe through architects…
It should really be expected that a night spent in Edinburgh – even in a five-star hotel – would be no ordinary stopover. After all, there’s barely a building in Scotland’s capital without its resident ghost. The Scotsman has five ghosts, the hotels barman tells me. In any other city this might seem a bit…