GUARDIANĀ In the oppressive, dead-weight heat of midday, an improbably polite man ushered me through security at Georgetown’s dusty domestic airport. Behind him I could hear the gurgling of a Dam-Busterish, chocks-away type plane waiting for me on the tarmac – I was euphoric. Old-time civility – a rarity almost everywhere these days – is a quality you’ll find by the trunk-load in Guyana. It’s very old school: a bit knackered, louche and shambolic – traits that I love. Continue reading