bob carter, writer, journalist, feature writer, broadcast journalist

Bob Carter

Broadcaster, journalist, BBC Senior Producer and freelance writer.

excerpts:

On Four Legs You Can Take Forever
from THE INDEPENDENT, 1996

Oh the equestrian life! The sea-breeze ruffling your hair, the hooves kicking up wet sand and surf. Well, it would have been nice, but it's all you can do to get these horses walking away from the campsite. To the known equestrian gaits of walk, trot, canter and gallop these animals have added the trudge. But that's probably all because they are perfectly happy to just amble along with a caravan behind them. Well most of them are. One family seemed to have the Irish cousin of Desert Orchid pulling them along. We would start out on the road ahead of them only to hear them coming along behind a couple of hours later, we swerved to the side of the road as they swept past, three faces in a rictus of terror, hands clinging on to reins in a vain bid to slow down.

Hunstanton's biggest ever birthday party
From THE INDEPENDENT, August 17th, 1996

Hunstanton's biggest ever birthday party Norfolk's most genteel resort is 150 years old this summer - and in the best of health. On a cloudy close Sunday on the cusp of July and August Hunstanton is just preparing for its biggest-ever party. Today there's a jazz band on the new bandstand on the green, a feelgood smattering of "no vacancies" signs in guest house windows and the useful notice in the woolshop which reminds you that "now is the time to buy your winter yarn." The resort of Hunstanton is 150 years old this summer and in the rudest of health - in a genteel sort of way.

Anything Bryson can do...
From THE INDEPENDENT, March 27th, 1999

A walk along the Appalachian Trail in the spring sunshine - well, that was the original idea. Eight inches of snow crunching underfoot, we planted our first footsteps on the Appalachian Trail. Sometimes you just have to stop and ask yourself: "Why me?" Bad weather seems to dog me. A few years ago, I climbed Mount Sinai at night to see the sunrise - and it was cloudy. Last year, I stole a weekend in Dorset only to be robbed of the whole county by fog. Last week, an attempt to spend a few days on the Appalachian Trail, enjoying the spring sunshine, was swept away by snowstorms.

Scotland - Highlands minus the tartan hat
From THE INDEPENDENT, February 21st, 1998

`Scotland in February? You must be mad,' they told Bob Carter.
Ben Nevis, where packed ice from too many boots made the going too treacherous. The mountain glared down through the mist daring us to come and have a go if we thought we were hard enough. We weren't and didn't. The search for true solitude reached its successful conclusion on the marshy expanse of Rannoch Moor, proudly described as Europe's largest wilderness area. You drive from the hotel on Loch Rannoch to where the B846 peters out by Rannoch station and then set off along the side of Loch Laidon. Pretty soon the only sound is the wind and the birds and you can imagine the moor stretching off into infinity. It is lonely enough to send you a little bit mad, but then wasn't that what everybody said when we told them we were driving from London to the Highlands in a 1959 Rover in the bitter days between New Year and spring.

BOB CARTER GETS MARRIED IN CAIRO
from THE INDEPENDENT , February 14th, 1995

Don't forget your passport, the dowry, and a little Baksheesh.

The worst moment was probably when an unkempt woman complete with filthy baby in one arm disappeared with our passports, wedding documents and a fistful of Egyptian pounds into what appeared to be a public toilet, condemned, and awaiting demolition. We were beckoned to sit and wait on a bench outside, given some lukewarm Sprite, and surrounded by curious faces. The realisation that we'd given away not just our chance of getting married, but all our documentation in a country obsessed with bureaucracy, to a complete stranger and her baby, began to sink in...

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