I'm not a runner. Well, not really. I do trot gently along the Thames towpath on occasion. So why commit to running 16 km - the furthest I've ever run, by far? And not on the paved banks of a river - on the roasting sand of Monterrico beach, in Guatemala. It's all because of Claire. We met when we were both living in Paris, 18 years ago - just before what would become the moment that would change her life forever. Claire was raped - beaten and left for dead - by a stranger, a
I don't blog - but I'm sometimes asked to write. Articles will appear here.