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- Written by: Richard_McKie
- Parent Category: Travel
- Category: South America
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When I was a boy, Turkey was mysterious and exotic place to me. They were not Christians there; they ate strange food; and wore strange clothes. There was something called a ‘bazaar’ where white women were kidnapped and sold into white slavery. Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, or was it Errol Flynn, got into all sorts of trouble there with blood thirsty men with curved swords. There was a song on the radio that reminded me over and over again that ‘It’s Istanbul not Constantinople Now’, sung by The Four Lads, possibly the first ‘boy band’.
This story is available as a download for e-book readers
He was someone I once knew, or so I thought. One of those familiar faces I thought I should be able to place.
What was he to me? An ex-colleague, the friend of a friend, someone from school? In appearance he's a more handsome version of me, around the same height and colouring. Possibly slimmer, it’s hard to tell sitting. Maybe younger? But not young enough to be one of my children’s friends. I just couldn’t remember.
Death is one of the great themes of existence that interests almost everyone but about which many people avoid discussion. It is also discussed in my essay to my children: The Meaning of Life on this website; written more than ten years ago; where I touch on personal issues not included below; such as risk taking and the option of suicide.