Tim Dowling: my working holiday just isn’t working
The weather is unrelentingly glorious, the views are amazing, but I cling to the freelancer’s habit of never quite admitting I’m on holiday In the summer of 1995, I went on a family holiday to Portugal.
On the first day I got a call from a UK magazine, asking if I would be interested in interviewing Meg Ryan, in three days’ time.
I looked out to the pool, where my wife and my mother-in-law were pushing my infant son across the water in an inflatable ring.
“Sure,” I said.
I broke the news, packed my things, flew to London and, the next day, to LA.
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