I miss a lot of things about the real world: coffee, pastries, picking up things and smelling them, buying nail varnish, putting my forehead on a restaurant table when someone tells me a terrible story about the man they’re seeing, trying on hats. However, I don’t think I miss anything as much as I miss women. God, I miss women. I love my boyfriend and I’m routinely amazed at how well we’re doing at pretty much exclusively seeing one another, but I miss the physical presence of women with a dull ache that sits at the centre of my chest.

Some passengers avoid flying on Friday the 13th; however, do non-triskaidekaphobes get cheaper tickets as a result? This article explores the truth behind this superstition.

We’re living in an era where reducing your carbon footprint is no longer a choice but viewed as a necessity. If you are a family who loves to travel and you live somewhere with a decent train network, one way to balance your need to explore with a commitment to your eco-conscious kids is to take to the rails for longer journeys.

On a hot summer’s day in Arlington, Texas, I’m walking through a small, little-known cemetery. Gold-embossed lettering glitters from black marble tombs, and colourful bunches of flowers, some with tear-stained notes, dot the narrow path. However, thankfully, I’m not here to grieve for a recently-passed family member; which begs the question, what exactly am I doing here?