Don't go to Saint-Martin

A friend from New York City recently went on vacation to Saint-Martin, a tropical island in the northeast Caribbean that is roughly divided in half between France and the Netherlands. He’s gay and so was his companion on the holiday.

Leaving a nightclub one evening, the two were attacked and beaten by a group of men and at least one woman, all of whom yelled homophobic slurs and left the two men in need of emergency medical treatment. Both have had metal plates inserted in their skulls to repair damage.

More recent news reports say that three people have now been arrested, but my friend stressed in an email that the police in Saint-Martin were rather slow to show any interest in a ‘mere’ gay-bashing. He’s a lawyer, he’s from Texas, and he is a senior producer for CBS Nightly News, which is another way of saying the attackers picked the wrong person to mess with. But I’d recommend stroking Saint-Martin off your list of vacation possibilities, even if you’re not gay.

The Wrath of the Lamb!

Isn't she hot? Courtesy of the Royal Museum of Scotland, I got a glimpse of the immortal Dolly the Sheep. Rotating slowly on a pedestal in a temporary exhibition of Science For The Young, she stares menacingly and stuffed out at the ignorant world.

The road to where?

I've spent spring working in Dalkeith, a small town outside Edinburgh. Correction: I was actually working on the far side of Dalkeith, which is itself a pretty little town with little to remark upon. At best it was a dismal job in a dismal place. Some days, when the sun shone, it was quite pleasant, but as I often say, almost anywhere is nice when the sun shines. "Sun destroys the interest of what's happening in the shade," to quote Philip Larkin. Where I worked there was a stretch of aimless road, drifting round the perimeter of my place of work. You see it in the above photograph. My job has suddenly and abruptly ended and like the road, I don't know where life will lead next.