Magical Cyprus ... and TakeThat shenanigans
MY most special childhood memory dates back to a bitingly-cold October in Scotland when I was seven.
Along with my five-year-old brother, I had just finished Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree before heading off on a family holiday to grandparents in Cyprus.
Word went ahead of us and upon arrival my grandfather said: “We have to get an early night, boys.
“There is talk in the village of an old magic Faraway Tree in the Troodos mountain range behind our cottage.”
For two weeks, from 7am to 7pm, we marched the foothills looking for a tree with a hole in it, desperate to bring our fairytale into the real world. It was magical!
I now live in Colombia and film all over the world so getting home to my folks in Caithness is my most recurring holiday.
I like nothing more than settling down with a fly-fishing rod on Dunnet Beach under a clear moonlit sky.
There I’m utterly detached from the commitments of everyday life.
And a wild sea trout, baked on a driftwood fire on a beach at night, is more primal and satisfying than any other food experience I have had on any holiday.
My all-time favourite holiday, though, was when I was 22.
I was taking photographs at a friend’s wedding in Paris and had a few days holiday at the back end.
The bride and groom had booked rooms a year prior and when we got there 400 screaming females were battering the hotel windows.
Take That were on a Brit Awards tour and we spent a weekend in Paris with Robbie Williams and the gang.
When they were performing on the Saturday night, their limos chauffeured us to an exclusive restaurant opening, a private art showing and the 60th anniversary of a cool 24-hour underground jazz bar.
Robbie was bang in the middle of his proper bad boy phase and I was full of devilment, too.
I’ll never forget how out of my depth and alive I felt on that holiday.
You can’t even begin to imagine the shenanigans!