How to spend a weekend in London using just your cards
IT WAS in the open expanse of Cork Airport’s arrivals hall that it dawned on me. I hadn’t spent a brass farthing to get here. My flights, parking space, petrol — even the bag of salt and vinegar crisps I ate in the car on the way — had all been bought with plastic.
Like every football supporter heading off on a junket around Europe, I set myself a goal. And like those faithful, and usually delightfully delusional, followers of soccer, it was a goal I knew I was never likely to achieve.
