The road not taken

In 1988 I decided to travel, to leave my job and flat and go. I’d broken up with my girlfriend of six years a year before, and although I’d known for some time that it was a dead end it had still taken some adjustment.

I was exhausted and bored by a string of subsequent brief relationships in search of something right. There’d been a holiday romance that promised more when played out in azure water but which had failed to…