Verbal Brand Consultant
and Advertising Copywriter

  • Siliguri to Shillong

    Friday, December 18th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    If it’s Thursday, it must be Siliguri, a particularly grubby city whose populace seemed to converge on one long main road fringed by a myriad of market stalls, the road itself plyed by bicycle rickshaws, auto rickshaws, buses, motorbikes, lorries – and in the middle of all that, men carrying piles of bricks on their back, school kids, and some daft bint and her limping mother, all taking their lives in their hands in…

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  • The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Rude

    Wednesday, December 9th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    I left the Dracula Hotel (dark, scary, blood on the walls) in the sleepy village of Yuksom for the slightly less sleepy village of Tashiding. I was in a shared jeep with three young girls from Sheffield. They’d spent the last year mllking cows in New Zealand and were now on a world tour in an effort to find out what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. ‘Girls’, I said….

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  • The Day of the Jeep

    Wednesday, December 2nd, 2015By annablog0 comment

    On the way down to the jeep stand in Darjeeling from where I was going to depart for Sikkim, a man with no teeth asked me: ‘do you want to ride a horse?’. ‘Do I look like I want to ride a horse?’ I replied, gesturing to the huge pack on my back. When one is carrying two months’ worth of gear on one’s back: long johns, short johns, lady shoes, walking boots, knitwear,…

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  • A view of Everest with sausage fingers

    Wednesday, November 25th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    For anyone who likes a bit of a ramble, sausage fingers are a perennial problem. For those unfamiliar with the condition, it’s a swelling of the digits when on a big old walk. Now chipolatas in the Quantocks I’m pretty familiar with but when faced with Mount Everest, I obviously needed to upgrade to a Cumberland sausage; after all, I was 3,636m up on the Singalila Ridge. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s…

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  • If it’s Thursday, it must be Darjeeling

    Thursday, November 19th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    Twice yesterday I was accosted by men. At the New Market (which smelt of human excrement – not what you want when you’re looking for a juicy pear), I met a man who had once been to Birmingham and was now involved in condom distribution to the poor; that was when he wasn’t running a market stall selling cheap socks and undies. He took me to meet his brother who had a stall selling…

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  • Oh Calcutta – make way for the alien

    Tuesday, November 17th, 2015By annablog0 comment

    I thought the British loved a queue but in India queues are king. The immigration queue at the airport snaked all the way back to the plane practicall. We were greeted after a fashion by a diminutive floorwalker. He was supposed to sort us into groups. Who was a diplomat? Who had come in from West Africa and might be a bit loose in the bowel department? Who was a westerner with an e-tourist…

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  • Small beds and scatting

    Tuesday, April 9th, 2013By annablog5 comments

    I’ve been in the land of cheese and novelty dildos, a land where a man in a Paisley cotton frock and cardigan can get on a tram, put a plastic colander on his head and attract no attention whatsoever . This is Amsterdam – where anything goes and frequently does. On my first night I go to Drag Central to play Deal or No Deal in a bar. Noel Edmunds is played by a…

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  • You’re nicked

    Tuesday, February 26th, 2013By annablog0 comment

    It was a dirty night on the east side of Brighton. I’d been hanging in a bar with some Swedish chick and her pooch – a scraggy canine with a shot jaw. I’d not eaten so my gut was growling and something about the bar that night was fraying my nerves. Maybe it was the weird Asian guy in a duffel coat who kept pacing up and down in front of our table, eyeballing…

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