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Author - The Old Bloke

A bed by any other name

Sometimes the body is just so tired it doesn’t seem to matter where I bed down for the night. In the past three months I’ve slept on charpoys, in a tent, a prison, abandoned buildings, police posts, a few lovely guesthouses, the odd memorable hotel and a few establishments that are struggling to reach even a one star status. I’ve shared my space with other...

Just one bad apple…

For the most part, whatever I heard previously about Iran, has proved untrue. It’s a beautiful country with very generous and kindhearted people who’ve paid for petrol, done repairs for free, given me small donations, cups of tea, and lots of warm smiles. Between the populated areas there’s mainly desert, but each city is a green oasis with gardens, trees and lovely...

Looking a gift horse in the mouth

What a difference it makes to be back in control again. After saying goodbye to Yashi and having no police escorts I’m relishing taking things a bit easier. While we had the police with us I wasn’t able to stop as often when I wanted to monitor the oil usage and instead had to just keep topping it up to ensure the engine didn’t suffer. It’s hard on a bike this old...

When all else fails…

Reaching Quetta and enjoying a good rest was my objective after all the rough roads from Lahore, but I was under no illusion there’d be plenty more to come, not to mention the heat, desert sand and an element of danger. Real or perceived, I didn’t know. Despite the hotel being pretty basic, I managed to get my laundry done and clean Effie & I up a...