From Rat Race to Road Trip: Overlanding With Four Dogs!
In 1973, the Welsh rock band, Budgie, sang about being in the grip of a tyre fitter’s hand.
Part of the soundtrack of my teenage years, I could never have guessed how prophetic this song would become one day, almost half a century later.
Continue reading “Trial by TRILEX – Coming to Terms with Split Rim Wheels!”
Hungerford. Lockerbie. Dunblane.
Sleepy backwaters whose syllables might have languished in obscurity forever, had they not become intertwined irrevocably with tragedy.
I felt the same as we crossed into Kosovo. My knowledge of Europe’s newest country – a territory half the size of Wales, populated by fewer than two-million people – derived mostly from shocking news bulletins during the 1990s. In my mind, Kosovo and its capital, Pristina, were synonymous with atrocities. Tales of massacres, genocide and ethnic cleansing in the lead up to and during the Kosovo War of Independence of 1998-1999.
Mark and I fled from Skopje first thing.
In my last post, I asked, “What’s in a name?” when we discussed the City of Light. Little did we realise that we were about to discover the mother of all naming disputes – and get caught up in the news.
Once upon a time, in a land not-so-far away, there was a little country stuck in an almighty conflict over its cognomen.
When it declared its independence from Yugoslavia in 1991, it found itself in a pickle, because it chose to name itself Macedonia.
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