Playing Poirot

Our 19-year-old Mormon guide from Phuket widened his sweet round eyes, but didn’t reply. “Does anyone else know?” asked DD tentatively. There was a silence among the group of hikers, resting near a pig sty in a cluster of tribal shacks. “I think we’re somewhere north of Chiang Mai, but I’m not sure,” the male … More Playing Poirot

On acid

“He’s staring at me.” It was happening again. DD sat on the sofa, beer glass held mid-air, and pulled a nervous grin. “Why do babies always stare at me?” he repeated. “I don’t know,” I said, and shuffled across the floor closer to baby E, who had stopped playing ever since we turned up in … More On acid