When Liam and I got hitched we asked for Thomas Cook vouchers as wedding gifts. We had already made the fateful (or was it fatal?) decision to migrate to Asia Minor and didn’t need a brown Kenwood toaster with a cornflower motif. Nor did we want his and his John Lewis bath robes. Since then we’ve slowly used up most of the vouchers for our Blighty flights but the process was becoming a bit of a drag. Vouchers can only be exchanged in Thomas Cook travel shops and these are as rare as ethnic minorities on Midsomer Murders. We decided on a final spree and used what we had left on business class tickets to London via Istanbul with Turkish Airlines.
We could hardly contain our anticipation when we arrived at the domestic terminal at Bodrum Airport. We breezed past the hoi polloi like minor celebs to the business class check-in and onwards to the business class lounge – vile coffee, limitless booze, dry croissants, nobody famous. The flight to Istanbul was pleasant enough with a welcome glass of bubbly and a hot breakfast from a fixed-smile waitress wearing too much tarty slap. Istanbul’s Atatürk Airport was a frenetic potpourri of the exotic and the mundane. The bazaar medley included a mysterious sect of elderly men in Persil-white towelling togas. We fled the bedlam to the utter indulgence and serenity of the business class lounge – vile coffee, limitless booze, dry croissants, nobody famous.
We boarded our Heathrow-bound plane expecting to turn left into unashamed comfy luxury and regal pampering. Our excited smiles crumbled as we were directed right towards our hard standard size seats. There was no more extra leg room than ordinary emergency exit seats and the food was only distinguishable from economy fare by the china crockery. The much vaunted entertainment selection consisted of an obscure disaster movie about a runaway train and an hour of adverts from the flickering mini screen that descended from the bottom of the overhead lockers. I’ve been better diverted on charter. Booze was provided only on request. Worse still, just a thin curtain divided us from the plebs back in coach. The experience left us disenchanted with a wasted wedding gift and lamenting our decision to reject the brown Kenwood toaster with cornflower motif. What an expensive flop.
Nine days later we returned to Heathrow with heavy hearts. We breezed past the hoi polloi like minor celebs to the business class check-in and onwards to the business class lounge – delicious coffee, limitless booze, butter-moist croissants, nobody famous. We boarded our Istanbul-bound plane expecting to turn right into our barely above economy cabin. Our resigned expressions were transformed into crazy grins as we were directed left into unashamed comfy luxury and regal pampering. We sank into our soft capacious seats with sixteen button-operated positions and in-chair massage. The individual screens provided entertainment of boundless possibilities. Spoilt for choice, Liam couldn’t decide so flattened his seat and took a cat-nap instead. The three course supper was haute cuisine and our camp thin-wristed attendant silently filled my glass without prompting as he swished down the aisle. Just the ticket.
Back in Istanbul, we headed to the business class lounge – vile coffee, no croissants, no booze, nobody famous. We boarded a dedicated business class mini-bus to our return flight to Bodrum – glass of bubbly, cold supper, proper crockery. All our flights provided stainless steel mini cutlery. I assume terrorists can’t afford business class.
During these days of lean interest rates it pays to shop around. Our money was split between three banks and when one of them offered a better rate we decided to move our cash. The bank that lost out did everything in its power short of outright refusal to scupper our plans. An electronic transfer attracted a ridiculous charge so we were forced to draw the money out in cash. We emerged from the bank like Bonnie and Clyde with two man-bags stuffed with the filthy lucre. We stood by the roadside waiting for our 

Haines’ stubborn refusal to stay in the closet and play it straight eventually killed off his Hollywood career. He didn’t seem to mind and became an interior designer of some note. He met his partner Jimmie Shields in 1926 and they stayed together until William’s death in 1973. Three months later Jimmie killed himself because he found it “…impossible to go on alone and I’m much too lonely.” This is a tragic though strangely tender tale that belies the notion that gay men can’t sustain a relationship beyond a nanosecond. Joan Crawford called William and Jimmie the happiest married couple in Hollywood. I asked Liam if he would consider suicide if anything terrible happened to me. He said he was considering suicide because nothing terrible has happened to me.
From the delicious to the ridiculous, the second entertaining tale concerns my namesake and distant cousin Jack Scott, turkey trapper. Jack Scott’s affair with wild turkeys spans more than 30 years. Read all about Jack’s ever popular box and the legend of Bubba’s gobbler
It looks like we’ll soon be following our ex-neighbour Clement. Our smiley landlord called by unannounced dragging a Turkish family of three generations behind him. Liam was taking his morning ablutions and I was taking tea. The family were prospective buyers, and smiley Landlord wanted me to show them around the house. I refused. It was embarrassing and rather unpleasant. If he wants to sell the house from under us that is his prerogative. He will have to give us fair notice and we have no intention of acting as his unofficial, unpaid agents. That wiped the silly smile of his face.
Young Yankee Erin from BlogExpat.com contacted me recently to ask if I would be willing to take part in a series of interviews she was doing with a number of expats living in different countries across the world. How could I refuse especially as the fabulous Erin describes me as “…an excellent writer with fabulous English humor”? You can read what I had to say about living in Turkey 

I am availing myself of
What gets me is the supreme arrogance of these aberrant people who believe absolutely that come the Day of Judgement only those who believe in Jesus will be saved. The rest of us will suffer an agonising death and burn in Hell for eternity. Setting aside the gross insult to the innocent victims of the Japanese quake or the overwhelming majority of humanity who subscribe to an entirely different religious tradition (or like me, none at all), it all seems a bit unchristian. What about the remote people of the New Papua rain forest who’ve never heard of Jesus or the children too young to have the Truth revealed to them, to name just a few billion?
