“A child is born “, was how the telegram from my father announced my arrival to a disinterested world. Apparently, I was born in Cambridge UK, with no identity, sex, mother, or family to speak of. Nobody’s child. A minor omission in my father’s rush to announce my birth, somehow set me on my lifelong wandering, a gypsy’s path. No…
In October 1987, known in financial circles as the year of the big crash (long before the 2020 one), I travelled to New Delhi, India. From there, our small group from Ireland (Olivia Furlong, Derrick Gerrity, Maureen (my Irish wife), and I were driven to the hill stations in northern India. (It appears that the only girlfriends I could muster…
