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I have spent five years ruminating on the idea of home. On where it is, what it is, and what it means to me, and to those around me. I was lucky. I grew up in a happy family who lived in the same house from when I was six months old until I left for uni, so I had never really needed to question what home meant to me. This was home, where my Dad would set up a fake Christmas tree every year because I had bad hayfever, where the door frame was...

5 Thing I Think the Man Had a Hand In

For legal purposes, I reject the term “conspiracy theorist”. It makes people think about ol’ Uncle Jack sitting on his front porch in a tinfoil hat with a rifle across his lap. That’s not me. I am a well-educated, highly suspicious, and arguably brave citizen, prepared to ask questions and uncover the truth. I have spent two consecutive all-nighters conducting highly sophisticated research...

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