This book had me at the title. 30: A Sense of Adventure and no Sense of Direction is Mark Callaghan’s account of speed-travelling through 30 countries in just nine months – one for each year of his life.

The cover is fab – but that (and the title) are probably the best things about it. The whole concept of Thirty30 actually made me wonder about trying to do Forty40. Not in nine months obviously, but in the years I have before the big four-oh. Actually reading the book however, dissuaded me; as dashing across the world at break-neck speed did nothing for the experience and the poor bloke seemed exhausted and ready for a holiday at the end!

The cover notes describe it as ‘madcap’ and I’d agree, but for different reasons. Mark is probably one of those really funny guys – a great laugh, with fab stories, that you love spending time with. And, I could almost hear the words on the page being spoken. He does what I do – he writes like he speaks. Which is what makes the writing dull and amateurish. His complete overuse of (brackets) brackets, (everything in brackets) annoyed me by the end of the first chapter – let alone the whole book. I probably do that a lot too. It’s because I don’t know what I’m doing. I write this blog for my own amusement. No one else sees it, I don’t advertise it on my FB, and no one knows the name or link – in fact, only Nigel knows I write it, and even he has never seen it. So, I am excused; Mark is not!

The book didn’t make me want to pack a bag and go, it made me think it was all hard work.

A map, a list of countries, a contents page if you will; any or all of these would have made the journey easier to follow. Half of them seemed to be ticked off by ‘doing’ Europe in several weeks, creating a disjointed trip by the need to fly in and out of the UK to Ireland (sheesh!) and then back to Heathrow for the ‘beyond Europe’ bit. I had to wonder if he’d nipped home for a cuppa between journey legs!

The thing I did totally get about Mark and his book was his penchant for naming things. I used to do that. I still kind of do, but I just don’t tell anyone. The car, for example, is called Vicky – as in Pollard, because it’s a chavvy black BMW. I haven’t quite gone as far as naming my flip flops (but I might), and I’m loving that his backpack is called Clive, and when I eventually get my backpack, it is SO having a name!

I think, on hindsight, I would rather have spent a few hours in the pub with Mark listening to his (self proclaimed) hilarious anecdotes than spend a week reading his book.

PS. Most of those (brackets) are there gratuitously on purpose!