Death usually comes with a jingle. The jingle of a breaking news alert from the BBC, Guardian, Washington Post or Sky News apps on my phone. I’ve not monitored this enough to make a scientifically based assertion, but I sense that the BBC is the quickest at bringing bad tidings. News flashes are almost always bad news. Today, the news was that Anthony Bourdain had died. Tragically, at his own hand. I imagine you would know who Anthony Bourdain is. If not, he’s a chef, a writer and a travel/food show presenter. I’ve never had the pleasure of feasting on a meal served up by the great man, so I cannot speak for the quality of his cooking. But I love his writing. His television shows even more so.
About 9 months after I moved from London to Dorset in the mid 90s, I picked up a job at a Texaco petrol station about 8 miles from home. It was just something to do till I got something better. It turned out that the ‘something better’ was Mexico, nearly ten years later. I had a range of shifts to do, but mostly lates (2pm to 10pm) or nights (10pm to 6am). Back in those days, most stations were single manned, other than a manager or supervisor during the day. I liked single manned shifts. Continue reading