How getting fired was a blessing in disguise for travel writer Tim Moore
One of the world’s funniest travel writers talks about his misadventures, his fanboy moment with idol Bill Bryson and why his children never read his work
WORST HOLIDAY EVER I was born in Chipping Norton (in Oxfordshire, England) and have lived in West London under the Heathrow flight path my entire life. My childhood was boringly happy. We did a lot of travelling.
My dad’s idea of a perfect family holiday was getting into a car and driving around continental Europe with nothing booked in advance. We’d end up arriving at these Italian hill villages at midnight with no idea where we were going to stay.
When I was three or four, we drove to Barcelona in my dad’s old Singer Gazelle. We camped at a place called the Laughing Whale, or La Ballena Alegre, where we all caught German measles. It was the Franco era, and we saw all these armed police as we drove back towards the ferry. I remember my mum saying it was the worst holiday ever.
TOILET TRAINING My grandfather was my biggest travelling influence. He was a foreign correspondent for The Telegraph and, after retiring, spent all his time travelling. He had an aversion to aeroplanes because, during the war, he’d been in Singapore. On the last plane out when they were evacuating, he saw all the American pilots getting drunk beforehand and thought, “I’m not getting on that.” He got on a boat and that plane was never seen again.
When he was 75 he drove his Land Rover to India and back. He drove to Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, everywhere. That was just what he did. He used to send us these epic letters from his travels; they were very funny. After he died we were clearing out his house and the only thing I wanted was a pictogram from Chiang Mai showing the correct way to use a toilet. He’d liberated it and put it in the lavatory in his house, and now it’s in mine.
