Amsterdam United !!!

Yes - I am still alive. In Amsterdam now for 3 months - left no trace in countries unbounded and moved her lock stock and barrel. Living in a flat with empty Grolsch bottles creeping out of my wardrobe. Blue flashing gear sticks in the local disco taxi and I feel great !!

Ailing in the Paris of my dreams

Reasons not to be cheerful - part one. Feeling a bit sick and down in the dumps. Went to a mega party last night out in the rich suburbs of Paris (yes I am still here) and the tree lined streets were a sight to my very sore eyes. I gagged a bit in the Cuisine and during a hefty bout of wrestling with a vixen called monique I think I broke a rib. And I do not have a spare rib. I feel weary, almost ready to jack it all in and go back to Barking and Bob and the new baby and Sharon - Oh god ! no No No - they tried to send me back to Barking but I said No NO NO ! I will cough a bit more blood, lie limp and regurgitate my supper but I will also bounce back. As I lie here in my bedroom pontificating onto a laptop while feeling grim and pale - I have decided to resurrect myself like a Jesus of now, I will lead the meek into the nerest bar and order a round of their finest Beaujolais and smoke Bensons. Notice I did not say Bordeaux - I just cannot afford to blow my money on he Claret too often - not the really expensive stuff that tastes like the nectar from the pearly gates, pressed by gods big toe. And so I stay in this romantic city for some time and more driving myself down into my inner soul - and I think to myself what a wonderful whirl of emotions are circling around my brain. Goodnight and God press grapes for me tonight in my dreams ...

Lost time in Paris Underworld

I know its been a long time - and I entered Paris a brighteyed innocent - and now thanks to the pulling power of Jenny my companion I have been dragged into the bohemian underworld left bank experience. I have wholeheartedly changed - and I now flit in black and white across roads with jump cuts and still a Benson drooping although I think I will sometime give a nod to the changing times and give up smoking but only after a deep and interesting 36 hour debate with a flatload of Parisian intellectuals (Paul Bonnard, Jean de Fluc, Spikey, Chamboise, Renny the fox, One eyed Steve, Madelaine and Clancy Foster, Paul Picard and the rest, you know who you are so i do not need to reinforce your existence, but here is a cheery SALUT to you all you hairy (mostly) people of the night - I will try to keep up with you analysis on the US hegenomy and the rise of dysfunctional Russia and the Putin Sputine Machine ... but I have to9 dash now to the archetypal smopky jazz joint for some finger tapping -

Poetry in Paris

Paris Paris what can I say ! romantic city of the noughties with the gallic charm and the vino. Oh the Vin de table, so many tables so many bottles of the finest plonk in the world spilling over my jutting chin and moistening my cigarette so that I , yes I of the bon homie, have to light yet another Benson and swig a mothful of the Beaujolais or Burgundy or Bordeaux or the buggeration what is that one called I dont give a fuck just give me a quaff of that quaffing wine and we'll be on our way to another cafe or bar or club or restaurant or dodgy flat with people sitting cross legged playing the guitar. Jenny has taken to sipping Ricard and reciting poetry and smoking Gauloise. Here is one of her poems:

Angry
Yes I am bloody angry
What are you staring at
You four eyed feminist male
With the Fucking cheek to call me shallow
You vacuous prat
Lather mouth
Fat git
I spit on your mothers carcass
You dodgy spunkball
Grated cheese on your eyelids
Foreskin rollback menthol dab
Sliced sole
Chopped toes
You utter bastard
I will call your father and denounce you

She read that to the assembled wine drinkers in a small cafe on the left bank
And they roared their approval and coughed and clapped
Patted on the back. Jenny was high with emotion
We have been living the lives of literary heroes me doing the wine and fags, she writing agressive strange poetry of the highest order and reciting to dumbfounded audiences of pseudo bohemians and we work the crowd - getting the odd bit of cash - more for jenny - I have stacks in the bank

She comes in many colours

I know - yes, sorry, VERY late with the posting - we all need a bit of time out, even us travellers in Austria. But you will be glad to hear that here in the Tyrol I have bedded in with Jenny and knocked around with Alfonse in glorious style - so much so that I could not stop from the whirl for one tiny moment to release my pleasure onto the page - until now that is. For now you are to be the recipients of my full bloom. I have been intoxicated all week, ridden with the paradoxical fumes of nicotine, and the combination has left me high in the clouds of Austrian Nirvana. Jenny has transported me to a place somewhere near hippydom with a twinge of mod, a dash of punk and a mighty splash of hedonistic ridiculousness the likes of which have not been seen here in the mountains for many a long year I bet. We have danced in the sultry late night hotel disco to Dexys Midnight runners and Duran Duran. We have drunk pints of icy lager until the early hours in small candlelit bars while Alfgonse told us about his head injury and
childhood in Nice with the Rabine family after his parents had been killed by falling masonry. Allowing me to make my gambit and release myself of my inner virtual tumour and spill my guts out on the beechwood table verbally describing my own parents death in the car crash from hell. We have wandered high and low, tiring ourselves in wooded walks or near mountain peaks, to lay the old blanket and make intricate love in the open air while Alfonse wandered off for a pee. Now is the summer of all my content and the content will now com spewing out in multicoloured pellets all over you ! Ahhh to have found love with an indie clothes designer of massive repute and to not know what amazing surprise will venture around my mini corners.

Today we have sayed in the hotel with a bottle of the finest Chablis, 40 Benson, 3 bottles of high grade Chill Vodka (it damn spicy mon !). And just ourselves, and Alfonse, to keep us company while we discuss anything. Tomorrow we fly - YES fly to PARIS - because Jenny has a show near Montemarte and I have an urge to see the Romantic city now I have gone dewey eyed myself. And it will be good to see if Urban culture has an effect on the Jenny thing going on down in my head right now. So Paris - not gay - straight to gay Paris !

Shave in Bar with Cut Throat

So I strutted around in Brown for some time taking in the sights of Innsbruk and the surrounding villages and locale and ended up in a stinky little bar of the boiled cabbage variety with cheery wenches and a loud thumping on the wooden tables as the tankards came crunching down in the hands of massive Austrian worker types. I hesitated to ask for the bottle of vino then plucked up the courage (Jenny and Alfonse were with me) to order 3 of their finest Reds and we took our seats in the corner. All eyes were on us (we were strangers in a local pub and we felt like it I can tell you) - and we got stuck into a passable Cotes de Rhone and moved onto the second with ease and I drifted into a Benson and Hedges moment before steerin the bit of conversation I was managing to engage in with my companions to the subject of shaving and the need I had for a good one. A local then started blithering on and before I knew it I was in a high chair in the middle of the bar with an enormous guy towering over me with a cut throat razor and a brush full of lather. I succumbed to what was a very nice shave in the end. I know that the wine would have made a cut go bursting forth in copious amounts of blood all over the bar floor and I prayed that that would not happen and indeed it did not - not so much as a nick or scrape. So now I am baby bottomed for the time being - maybe the next 8 hours. By the way - where have I been the last week - well it was my birthday and Alfonse and Jenny took me to a small cellar bar in a mountain retreat and I dont remember much else - except I did try meditating but I was too drunk ! Can yo meditate when you are pissed - well I do not fucking know and I did not care then and I do not care now except that I am sure that it is quite a good thing to do for rest and relaxation and I guess that is what I should be doing rather than drinking large amounts of God's nectar. Well I will peruse the paradox and have a fag. Nice times these - Jenny is turning out to be a scream - she has a fine sense of humour and can put away a large quantity of red wine without falling over.

Brown is my colour

Went on a flying visit to Innsbruk on the back of Alfonse's motorbike - we went to visit a chic post modern artist in a top floor attic apartment - she is called Barbetta and smears hings almost excrement like over canvases walls and installations. Jenny knows her and says she is particularly clued up on clothes and I certainly know what she means. We arrived in her massive loft studio in Brixner Strasse after eating two huge Macdonalds Meals - not happy ones , they are for kids, we had unhappy meals and enjoyed every last drop of it. Barbetta had just finished smearing her last masterpiece and poured us huge Gin and Tonics in oversized medieval tumblers - once the conversation got off smearing and onto fashion I felt better and I asked her straigh if she felt comfortable in her plastic dress with Horse Head hat and she replied " I feel happy in my clothes because they are an integral part of me, when I wake up in the morning I do not think what shall I have for breakfast -I think what can I wear to give me a fulfilled feeling today that will last right through to lunch. Clothes are my nutrition". I sked her what I should wear and she walked slowly around me and studied me carefully and debated with herself in German - then she finally announced that we have another Gin and she would tell me. I lit a Benson and she clucked admiringly - "I do so like a man who still smoked" - "I know now what you should be wearing !" She got out a brown jumper and shirt and brown jeans, a brown Trilby - Brown is your colour its the new beige and so rock and roll . I gulped my drink and stripped down to my stripy undies - "Oh darling, these too must be brown" - and she rummaged for what seemed ages in her chest and found some brown pants. I went down naked and then stumbled leaving my arse in the air momentarily and blamed the Gin. Before long though I was in all nrown gear and I loved it - she was so right - I will never wear another colour ! I love Brown Clothing

Crisis

Crisis - oh yess crisis - oh no its a crisis, oh no its a crisis, hippy crisis, two tone crisis, punk crisis, mod crisis. Jenny the sewer extraordinaire has suggested a suggested a revamp and as you all now I ended up like a happy trippy Charles Manson in Austrian villages and it felt good - until the leiderhausen brigade took the piss and I hit the bottle harder than I normally do , about 2.3 times harder in sheer quantity of units of alcohol and about 4.7 times faster than I normally drink with 3 more Bensons per hour - So i have now got a decision to make in terms of which direction I take fashion wise - because I may as well take up Jenny and her offer to clothe me in any style I like - so I will be thinking hard - hard oh harder than hard - it dont come easy babe - oh no it dont come easy - watch this space - what will I transform myself into here in the beautiful Tyrol where the summer mountains are such a treat and the air smells so sweet. So will it be mod, punk, two tone, indir grunge or EMO, I'm no straight edge but may be I could be filled and planed. Gracious me I feel the need for a decision tomorrow ....

Running on Empty

The world goes round, and I spin on my arse axis - crossing in to the hippy divide you hairy monsters, I'm coming to get ya. That about sums up my dream last night. I woke up in a cold sweat next to Jenny the Indie Clothing magnet and she sang me to sleep with a mournful Handsome Family song about a women who drives her car and kids into a lake. I must fear hippies or do I want to be one - can I take the Ganja ? or will it make me a victim like all the paranoids filling the psychiatric wards ? can I sit in the circle with the peace pipe or can I do it with my trusty bottle of Vodka and 20 Bensons - or roll ups. Talking of which I hear that the UK is going smoke free - well sod that for a lark - I want to be able to light up in a pub, that is where I do my most dedicated smoking, what am I going to do when (and if ) I return to England ?. Austria is nice, green and pleasant land, but I feel out of place with the beads that are round my neck and the peace love and affection vibe that Jenny wants me to adopt. Notice I am now blaming her for all this, but well, it was her fault, she sewed these clothes. I have sat here at the InterBlinking Cafe and downed a tasty red and now I am going to put my feet up and ponder on my hippiedom, am I the guru doing the hippy hippy shake ? or am I Morrisey in Austria dressed as a hippy with no past pop career ? I will allow the neurins to coagulate and swarm to the opinion that will dominate over the next few hours.... optimist or pessimist ? Glass half empty or half full - well, its always fully empty fo me, but there is always another bottle to swig - BYPASS THE GLASS and then you do not have to be categorised !!

Dressing up in Austria

Desperate to be independently clothed and out of these rags I have been wearing for the last few months. Alfonse says that my blue cordueroy trousers are looking grey and tattered - I need a new look - so I have teamed up with Jenny from the Hotel and she is here for rest and recuperation following the break up of her marriage - she runs a little clothes shop in Hampstead and has the kind of knowledge that I need to really get on in this world in a more suave and sophisticatedly indie way - straight edge I be not seeing as I resort to the tequila slammer once too many times especially last night, and a smoker joker midnight toker albeit Bensons and not skunk. So anyway Jenny has a horsey laugh and a nice nature and drags me round the Austrian shops looking for something but gets despairing, all white shirst, stripy jumpers and ties. So she says why not repair tpo her room - nice and join her for a sewing fest. I suggest we buy a couple of bottles of Brandy and invite Alfonse - she says yes, and before I know it we are creating our own indie fashion form the spirit of Corvoisier and Jenny's clothing skilss which are predigious. Soon (3 hours) I have a hippy smock and flared cotton trouses, a headband and a post modern ironic take on the hippy culture. I like - oh yes man I like and I can strut around the small village and wipe the pants off all comers. I will ascend hills feeling at one with nature and with my trusty hip flask drink a toast to Jenny the Queen of indie fashion - she recommends this indie clothing site for a good started list of indie clothing and that should whet your appetite you crazy dressing up hogs.

Away from the rat race for a change

Lying in the grass today on an Austrian Hillside many kilometers away from traffic or noise and life seems barable again and I held my Glass of Vodka and Triple Sec high up to the sun and wished the world a toast of keep on keeping on. I have gone solo today since Alfonse has gone into a local town to buy shoes and I have had enough of humans anyway - so I have been walking quite intrepidly and I have seem a few of these bizarre Nordic Walkers with their ski poles but no skis - better than walking sticks for some I suppose but then again a mighty stout but slightly gnarled and varnished walking stick must win hands down in the Ski stick, walking stick competitions that go on somewhere in this known universe or beyond. So I have actually slept quite a bit, on perfumed meadow grass, and smoked these fine Bensons, drunk champagne and vodka and Triple Sec, and stuck a natural nasal spray up both nostrils to stop congestion and bad breath. I do not want to risk making a young woman's stomach turn when I try to get near if I can help it. and there is no sign of romance. The hotel s full of people on some kind of bloody mission to be fitter than me and fitter than most of the people around the same age and younger than themselves within reason. But sometimes that reason goes right out of the window and I am left to pick up the pieces, like this morning when a jogger bumped into the breakfast trolley sending crissants flying and the odd spec of coffee landed on my new green trousers.

Boiled Eggs

Dipped my feet in blue waters of Lake Vernago and wistfully went the way of the world and crashed myself full tilt into the beautiful waters and gorged my innards on the spike of bliss. Had another fine bottle of German White and smoked a fine reefer with Alfonse - a French tripper over here in Austria syaing at my fine hotel and a FOOT WAGGER !!. If you do not know what that means the let me tell you they STINK!!. Anyways up and sidewaysdown I have travelled the many highways an byways and now I am weary and i could sleep for a thousand years - so I have been very glad to be here in the Tyrol and mixing with he sporty people I find. I remember when me and Alfonse first met - up the hill with flowers. He said to me do you like fire light ? and I gave him a light - he said would I like to be with him in bar for drinking Yes ? I said sure and folled him - we havent looked back and we are now good chums, lashings of strong lager beer and boiled eggs.

Tyrol here I come

Now I have a wad in my pocket and I am strutting around like I own the whole of Austria, strange how things can turn upside down. One minute I am missing the BIG LADY from Wigan nee Bianca Whatserface in a Cairo hotel drinking what I must bloody well admit is a fine drink, Ricard, in copious quantities just to keep my liver tickled, and smoking the fines Benson and Hedges this side of the Antarctic, then the next minute I am rescued by my knight in shining armour and jammy so and so BOB the rich git. Now I can start my swanning around the world all over again and take a straighter course to ultimate happiness, and where better to begin that than the Tyrol in summer. I intend to take up Archery, and will be bringing down the sheep from the mountains, canoeing and canoodling with the busty beauties I intend to befriend around Lake Vernago, enjoy culinary delights (stuff my face) and local specialities of the sensual kind – with some candlelit moments and some with the light off, glacier tours, if still applicable – see this space for my Global Warming Update if I can get energised to think in these terms , hiking in Val Senales, horse riding if my bum can tae the rough treatment – I do not want to end up chaffed, Juval Castle and Reinhold Messner (I’ve read the brochure, they look good , Nordic walking strutting and talking with the Nordic type people who do a lot of this kind of ting man , rafting, rock climbing, summer skiing I am turning as you now realize BOB (are you listening ! or still too drunk to care ! into a man of Austran action. The list of things to do during in the summer in South Tyrol is apparently huge according to Jan at the SparKen Travel in downtown Viennawhen. I have now settled in a cat like way in the the Berghotel Tyrol in Val Senales and after a couple of incidents involving me dropping a fine bottle of scotch on the foyer floor I have managed a bit of shuteye and later intend to do a bit of roving for fun. I’ll be looking for sporty people, nature-lovers and culture enthusiasts in particular. This looks like the best decision I have made for a few weeks. And I cannot wait for the fresh green mountain meadows, imposing mountain tops to invite me to be active in the mountains before I relax and spend hours in good company with the mighty power of the vino and I might even sing !!.

Back Home They'll Be Thinking About Yer

Can You Believe it - I was in Barking last night - I flew back in a Tizz because Bob contacted me in my Cairo stupour Biancaless and moribund and told me he had just won £250,000 on the lottery and would I like to come back for the party of a lifetime and he'd see me right for 5K . I said thanyou very much and got the next flight home - and we partied like it was 1999, Sharon was with the kid and me and Bob went to a restaurant then a pub and then a club and then back to his mates Nigel with the Goofy teeth - I like him, and he is getting 5K also and we started necking into the corvoisier brandy and getting a bit tearful about the womenfolk in or out of our lives and I got Bob to sign the cheque. I'm noe in Austria - Vienna to be precise and I have just had a slap up load of vegetarian nonsense with french wine a slap happy waitress - my smile has been from ear toear and back ! Thing are on an upward spiral into the next plateau of luck and anti futility. So tomorrow, sample some summer fresh air in the mountains - find a mountain lodge and shack up - preferably with a few cases of vino and a country frauline or two.

Rack and Ruin without the big woman

Reality check - Whoaa slow down - Bianca has left me in Cairo on my own - I hadnt realised she had gone for over a day - because I had been enjoing some relaxing Ricard moments in the room for a few hours on Wednesday and lost the narrative for a while. She left a note I read some 23 hours ago now and it stirred a bit of emotion in me for half an hour and I had to settle myself down with a Rum and Coke and 5 Bensons. This is her short note.

Esten Dear

Cannot take the constant drinking, and when you are comatose you always go on about my big butt - cannot effing take it anymore LOSER !

Love
Bianca

Nice - I have go over the big bum lady and I am now just resting

I'll have to get a plane outta here soon - its driving me to rack and ruin

Global Warming Guilt

Feeling incredibly guilty having seen Al Gore's film on Global Warming on an Egyptian pirated DVD and realing I have a carbon footprint the size of a Yeti's because of all my flying and I may personally be implicated for half of Greenland dropping off and switching off the gulf stream and making my home town of Barking UK like northern norway - nil points for me. Bianca does not really understand and has not allowed herself to feel guilty and points out that actually I dont get off my arse much except to find the lighter or open a beer or twist the lid on a new single malt, so how can I be chipping Greenland ? We have the Carbon Footprints of herons she says - we do not fly much and when we do we tend to find a hotel room and then relax with a bottle or two. But what about the manufacturing of all these bottles - ad have we been recycling and does smoking add to the carbon layer ? perhaps I should cut down from 25 a day to 15 and that might help. By the way Cairo is chilling us - we dont do much just pop in and out of the hotel and meander occasionally - we dont have exciting sessions like with Pete coz he has gone home.

My Mind Tries to Contemplate Multiverses

I'm rambling, not on the moors of North England or Cornwall, but in my mind, I am rambling through my Egyptian experience and going whacko with alarming speed. The 17 hour drinking binge seemed a good idea at the time and Pete was the most amazing host - welcoming us back to his two up two down semi rural retreat to beat off the mother of all hangovers and paying for a smart cab back to our delightful OM something hotel and now I have a headache that reaches into my toes - twists my internal melon into sausage dog shapes and gives me violent kicks in the liver and kidneys. Bianca I think feels the same but that is just intuitive because we havent uttered a word now for 24 hors except GAWWD BLEEDING ELL . My mind - hemmed in by pain has taken routed of durvival I had not thought possible - dipping into the pool of sleep only for a moment because of the freezing cold nightmares that ensue I have taken to lying with my eyes open on the floor and then sometimes the bed and moaning. The moan has turned into a meditation on life with alcohol and tobacco - om om om and I have only smoked 5 Bensons since. My thoughts have wandered beyond the pyramids up into the multiverses beyond our simple convenient universe and out into the realms of the 11th dimensional tiny spotted lesser known miniverses that exist in the moist cleavage between the megaverses of the power kingdoms. Or some such nonsense that I cannot understand. Funny where the mind takes you - but I realised that my mind had reached its limit when it started to pop and fizz and then I knew that however much I tried I would never understand the infinity of multiverses out there.

The Lost Seventeen Hours in Cairo

Now its been several days here in Cairo and after the hot sweaty camel hassle of the Pyramids Bianca and I got the fear - and hid away for a while. Bianca did a bit of strutting around the room - quite a big room with a big fan and noises of traffic pouring in. She did her makeup a lot and tried on her mostly red dresses and I keep seeing her adjusting her lipstick or straightening a dress in front of the Al Halumi mirror. I have taken to wearing a fez and smoking Bensons throug a long filter I picked up in a bazaar - I also have taken in a huge way to Ricard - luckily I have found a supply and now I am in my element - the luxurious tokes on the Benson some 50cm away from my mouth with the razor sharp taste sensation of Anis sends me into another world of plot and intrigue, money and guns, romance and passion. I looked Bianca in the eyes and she said what was I doing giving her the stares like that it gave her the creeps. I took another toke and got up and put my arm around her hoping she would swoon, but she got unsteady on her feet and belted me - We wnet out soon after that looking for tights, she ha laddered her best pair. Thats when we met Peter, and American in the Foyer. Peter was sweating alot, which is i think, his problem, and Bianca was kind enough to point it out. He remarked that he did sweat profusely in contrast to Bianca's gentle glow and spologised if it made her squeamish. Bianca liked him from the off and asked him if he new where we could get tights and he said he didnt but he knew somewhere we could all get tight ! a man after my own heart - from Chicago Illinois and a man on business (going wrong by all accounts) in Cairo with a couple of days to kill and some cash - like me - in search of some fast action. He led us through a maze of streets and then into a small square with some old men sitting around on low benches playing some game and being shouted at by a hollering women - several impish children loitered around - Peter went up to one of the old guys and whispered something - looked at Bianca and me and then the old guy gave him a key, and Peter led us into a building - we wnet down several dark coriddors with the smells of some kind of cooking and washing combined - we turned a corner - and he put the key into a door - opened it up - and there we were, home ! The secret bar of the lost Egyptians ! - a bar stacked with optics full of Whiskey, Brandy, Rum and a rack of fimne wines. There was a juke box andit had old rock and roll - Chuck Berry Promised Land was playing as soon As I saw it and had worked out that it didnt need money - free sounds ! - we were the only people in at this point - but were soon followed by a little midget guy who could just reach the optics and served us scotch and sodas - Pete said that this was on him - he'd paid up front for a session down here with two companions and we could drink what we liked - smoke what we liked and play what we liked on the juke box baby (I love rock and Roll !). Which is how we spent the next 17 hours !in the company occasionally of French and German businessmen who liked dangling there feet in the tubs of water provided and of course Bianca wass a big big it - dancing to Little Richard, Jerry lee, the Beatles and the Stones, and of course Elvis the Pelvis King Presley himself the hounddog in the Blue Suede Shoes. She was now in her element even though she prefers Girls Aloud or Britney Spears. What a session, Peter old us all about his abortive attempts to sell his Beta Carotine pills in Cairo and also get them interested in Nicorette. God knows if he was a bullshitter but he talked the hind legs off of me, and had me arm wrestling, and spatial finger tapping (drinking game involving repeated instructions on which finger to move). The toilet was the one dissappointing aspect - and I needed it a lot given the quantity of high class booze I was imbibing. But I did not complain - I was having too good a time - it did start to get a bit blurry for me at one point but I rested my head on Biancas huge lap and snoozed it off in under 10 minutes - and then got stuck into teh wrestling - Peter was an expert wrestler and took on all comers in his Blue suit and pink checked shirt - I came off worse for wear but he look a bit deshevilled after and I took that as a partial victory. HE smiled, Bianca grinned and all the businessmen laughed (including a dirty little Japenese guy who kept goosing Bianca much to her delight coz it meant she could thump him and she likes thumping blokes - trouble is he liked being thumped). Nice Nice Nice.

Do I want a Camel Ride ? - No !

Do I want a Camel Ride ? - Does your lovely big lady want a camel ride ? Would you both enjoy a ride on our friendly camels ? No was our answer - we have come to gawp at the Pyramids, and these geezers constantly hassle - so I dipped into my hip flask at regular intervals and rolled a few rollies and tried to take it all in my stride - but the camel requesting interventions became quite big and often so I had enough and we scooted back to Cairo and a well earned beer in our room.

Trashed in Om Kolthoon

The Om Kolthoom Hotel started to get on my nerves today, then took an upwards swing and finally redeemed itself and I fel calmer. Bianca pissed herself and I thought we'd have to go to an Egyptian doctor for assessment but she says it happens from time to time particularly if she has been mixing her drinks - in this case gin and wine, and we both agreed to agree that it was probably just an uncontrollable lapse in a time of high excitement- new country - Egypt, the prospect of visiting the Pyramids in the near future and also the added factor of some powerful heat, me massaging with an oil we had not heard of before (Koriasten Oil anyone ?) . I looked a bit sheepish at around 3.00pm but soon sprang out of that and then decided that we would do the pyramids in a day or two - but first get around Cairo by foot and bus and see some of the real Egypt. But instead we stayed in our Hootel room at the Om and trashed the day in a spectacular display of enjoying ourselves with limited resources - Bensons, Old Virginia, Rizlas, Wine and Spirits and some Egyptian Beer. Oh and a lighter (green). Bianca revealed more hairaising stories from Wigan in the Eighties and I rambled a lot about White Horses, Bill and Ben, Thunderbirds, Joe 90, and single malt Whisky. Bianca continued to worry me with her references to her Wrestler Father who would fight her boyfriends, get them in horrific arm ann neck locks and practically kill them ! I do not want to meet him even if he is 78 now.

Booze in Egypt - a primer

Stepped into another world, the hustle and Bustle of Cairo International and the arab world - first impressions are of glitz and glass and heat - jump in a cab and head for the Om Kolthoom Hotel, an excellent hotel and jolly nice is I say so myself - good choice, in an ideal location. Although the rooms are basic, the service of the staff is five star, straight away Bianca required some medicine for a mosquito bite roght on the big bum of hers and I enquired politely in the lobby and the manager contacted a local chemists got delivery happening with aplomb and within ten minutes I had a fist full of medicine all for a total cost of 1 Euro! Nice one manager guy - you get a big virtual slap on the back for not being a slacker waster. But anyway I have found out about drinking: Although devout Muslims refrain from drinking alcohol, beer, wine, and hard liquor are available in bars, restaurants, and some grocery shops. Imported beer and wine are the most expensive, but the local beer called Stella is a light lager that is quite good, provided it has not sat in the sun too long. It comes in large (about 20 oz.) bottles and is about 4 to 5% alcohol about . Stella Export, available in bars and restaurants, is more expensive (4%), comes in smaller bottles, and is stronger--closer in alcohol content to most Western beers. Marzen, a dark, bock beer, appears briefly during the spring; Aswanli is the dark beer made in Aswan.
Brandy is drinkable only when diluted, and the local rum is not much better. However, zibib, the Egyptian version of Greek ouzo or Mexican anasato, is good either on the rocks or diluted with water (which turns it milky) as a before-dinner cocktail. Other hard liquors are imported and therefore are limited (the ports at Suez and Alexandria seem to have the widest variety) and expensive. If you drink regularly, plan on stocking up at a duty-free store before you enter Egypt. an I do drink regularly so I have stocked up - clever old me eh ? and I have some nice bottles of Brandy, Gin - two very nice bottles of Chateaux Neuf du Pape and assorted mini bottles of god knows what - chin chin my luvva.

Long live the Sphinx

Busy Busy Busy - Flew to Rome, got outta that Palermo place that was doing my nut in, except for yesterdays exertions at Etna, which did Bianca in physically, but me I'm a sprightly chap, and who said a bottle of stiff brandy was any hinderance to volcano climbing ? eh ? well apart from spluttering and wheezing a bit and bending over nearly vomiting it was damn easy- and although actually we did not make it up to the top (anywhee near) do not tell Bianca ! she thinks I'm some kindda miracle man !. Anyway Back in my old stomping ground with the big girl by my side and all thoughts of Petra and April banished to my inner sanctum. Rome feels different and we are staying one night in a modern anonymous hotel that feels like living in a polished kettle. I have taken to drinking champagne so bottoms up. And I have watched Spongebob Squarepants on TV, great ! I love Patrick, he reminds me of me ! Tomorrow we flyto Cairo - so tonight its bubbly time and Bianca wobbled out of the shower and sat on my face with glee. Later we danced to the muzak on the TV radio and listened to the Pope pontificate like he can. Nice day - looking forward to a change in culture - must remember to take some spirits - can you drink in Egypt - I'd better find out - we'll have to cancel if I am going to risk my limbs for my liver. The carpet here is nice and soft and I have rolled around on it quite a lot - spilt some champers and smoked 20 Benson in 5 hours - nice going for a cool operator. Here is to tomorrow and Egypt !! Long live the sphinx.

Mount Etna Too Much for Bianca

Yes, still here, but guys and gals - we went up Mount Etna - can you believe it ! and I shall ramble on now about it because I loved it ! Bianca hated it - it was too much for a fat one but Sicily's greatest natural attraction, Mount Etna, baby, is also its highest mountain and I mean high, especially if you have been dopping the odd swig of Brandy and relying on Sudafed to keep you on your toes. To the ancient Greeks, Mount Etna was the homeland of Vulcan, crazy god of fire, and the home of that one-eyed monster known as the Cyclops. More facts - It is 3350 meters high and is Europe's highest active volcano, funny that I thought it was Vesuvius, but I was wrong. Amazingly, but obviously, the height of its summit changes with each eruption, and over the centuries a few lava flows have reached the coast. Over 1200 square meters of Etna's surface is covered with solid lava. You can ski in the Winter, and hike in the woods in Summer and that is what we did. It was a day out to remember, but I dont remeber that much because my head was frazzled by too much sun and Brandy and the constant earache that Bianca gave me - which I dealt with by depositing her with a scared looking guide who then took her to a Pizzaria and chatted to her whie drinking l;arge quantities of bee. I then trudged off to enjoy what I could and there was some breathtaking scenery. I recommend it, I think.

Dont drink yourselves to death please !

Dick the horn turns out to be a bit of an old philosopher and he has been setting me straight on the ways of the world - as seen through the bottom of my ever full glass, and he thinks that I drink the way I do because i like it and it makes me feel great and that I should not listen to the ever increasing barrage of baloney that is coming my way about the quantity and mixture of alcoholic beverages that seem to swish down my gullett with such ease. I mean, he says, you obviously have an enormous liver and the capacity to drink Europe dry if not Africa, Asia, Antarctica, Australasia, America (south and north) etc etc. So why shouldnt I ? eh? its my life, and I'll probably be one of these lucky sodes who ive to ninety and everyone says, god he drank and smoked like a chimney and he hasnt died - why the hell not the lucky basrardos. And its not like I am trying to get you lot whoever you are (but I know you are there somewhere and I may come and visit your country and drink your country dry), its not like I'm trying to get you lot to drink yourselves to death, I mean, you do have some intelligence do you not, you are not going to do that are you ? unless you want to - and then you are probably not reading this - because this blog is happy most of the time and about my travels. So that is that and Dick the trumpet is right - so there.

Trumpet in the Park

Aha Aha - me and my lovely bottle of Smirnoff Vodka - Tonic water and slices of beutiful Sicilian Lemons - One great thing about this place is the lemons man - dont twist my melon man, make it a lemon man ! So Vodka Tonic, unlike Gin and Tonic there is no and, so I a no anded, Look no ands !! I'm numbing my self in a harmless no anded way with the delights of brain sedation Vodka Tonic style here in Palermo with Dick the trumpeter from Stoke who is like me - on the travels - and likes a drink or two of his favourite drink, which he thought he would share with me, being the aforementioned Vodka Tonic with ice and a slice. Dick is one of your lone backpacker types but his angle is his trumpet which hangs vunerably off his North Face Rucksack. Nut he plays it mean and clean and after a snifter and a couple of Bensons he was jamming up Mile Davis stylee in the park and disturbung the Italians. So I told him to play something they might like and he played a great version of Fly Me to The Moon. Ahhh these are OK days a s I wait for Bianca to settle her formalities out.

Smelly times

Stuck - yes stuck here (not in the middle with you) but with Biamca in Palermo - I know I'm like a stuck record - but I have resorted to drinking Absinthe and coke - so watch out Egypt - but of course not for a while - bugger OH buggeration , how long do I have to suffer he boredom of being in one place when all I want is to be in another. There I dream upon a pyramid or sphinx - but Bianca is having money and papers trouble - I will not go further than to say she also has the shits - which worries me and stinks out our en suite here at Georginos and I need to smoke Bensons by the score to get rid of the smell.

Stuck in Palermo with the Memphis Blues again

Jesus Effing Christ almighty - will we ever get out of Palermo ? - Bianca is strutting around with her belly sticking out buying up armloads of suntan cream and moisturiser so that we do not burn in Egypt - the dog down the bottom of our strada gave me a hefty nip and I'm in pain on the thigh. Bloody dogs - should be locked up. I'm dragging my knuckles on the floor and sporting a fearful frown and I do say gormless things like "make me my supper you slapper" and Bianca covers me in shaving cream and kicks me hard on the shins. I resorted to the simple pleasures of beer and sulked off to drink some tinnies in a park while Biance did whatever she had to do. Roll on Egypt.

A good day with JD and Coke

Had a Bottle Of Jack Daniels and a pouch of Drum sort of day today ! very nice here in Palermo in my otel room with Bianca all day - farting and laughing drinking and plinking, smoking and joking and being like quite happy in a sort of contrived forced wy , which is only natural considering the amount of artificial stimulants we were imbibing. The big joke of the day was Bianca's hair which went a bizarre green following a mishap with some hair colouring she was doing - hence our decision to TRASH the day inside. She got over the hair debacle after the first JD and Coke and was bounding round the room after the second. Quite scary given the size of my lady - and and do know (Bob if ou are listening !) that it is possible to be squashed to death by a big lady. I will not bother to go into that anymore (Bob !) but suffice to say I kept my wits about me even as I entered the 4th and 5th JD and Coke zone where it all went a bit surreal with the Green Hair - Cherry pants and the dog that somehow got in and chewed up my book.
A good day though.

Practical Stuff

All fussing and dithering - trying to ensure that Bianca's paper and moeny are all OK for the next few months and a bit of ringing back to Barking and Wigan for advice and the like - dont you know it Bob ! thanks mate - Yes I had had a few Shandies last night - hope I was sitill coherent. Palermo has been lovely and we have hooked up with Ribena - a friendly Dutch Crusty who knows a few ropes round here - and we have drunk Scothch with her on a boat !! She ahs got me into Rollies and I now have to carry my Smoking Takle around and hassle people for Rizlas - Great ! Still - Bianca has her stuff pretty much sorted out and her Mother never showed up - which was a blessed relief - it turned out that she had to go to a funeral - ahhh! So our Egypt plan is looking like bursting into fruition next week once we get a flight sorted out - and Ribena says it may be best to fly to Rome and then on to Cairo - such a sweet girl.

egypt next

I must admit that hanging around Beautiful Palermo with Bianca in tow and sampling the cafes and bars - eating the odd pizza (keavy on the anchovies and olives please !) has been bliss but of course I have become a bit unhinged. "Pull yourself together " I hear her say many times in the day and I look at my pointy feet and try to reassemble myself into a decent travelling companiion because I can feel an epic movement starting to happen and I think we are going to Egypt ! somewhere that I would love to visit - The pyramids and all that - and hot and sweaty Cairo after a few beers should be very interesting - Bianca said today that I resembled a toad - wise but green around the gills - I think I need some Egyptian Spice. So here we go

Talking to Bianca in a Bar

I heard a screeching in my head today and Bianca says I ought to let out a few demons - so in my usual style I smoked a few relaxing Benson's and enjoyed some Palermo sunshine sitting outside some bar called Lo Jerco or something like that and devoured a carafe of farmers wine - and Bianca keeps saying "come on !!!, let them out you nutter" - so I give her an earful - telling her about my dead parents and the car crash and my borng life in Barking and the drug crazed afternoons at Bob's house - old Bob and Sharon - I havent thought about them for a while, I wonder how the new baby is. And then I made up a load of stuff about white swans and ravaged goats - cheese in the West country and my dancing career - how i had tap danced through college and muffed a few exams because of it and how noone had accepted me until I met Jessica. She was the first love of my life and bought me Refreshers and dripped cider down my ever eager throat while I tried to smoke Havana Cigars. My forehead never stopped dripping with sweat at school - and the furrows opened up like canals - I would barge past people and run to teachers begging for errands like delivering the register, It was like cool nirvana if I got the errand and I would relish with an inner glee the beautiful freedom it gave me and the honour of it all. Then I took to spending days on end in the sick room with Vodka binges and stashes of low class cigarettes. The music scene grabbed me by the balls but I kicked it off. Hobbies came and went quicker. TV started to dominate, accompanied by intensive sherry drinking and telephone calls to half hearted aquaintences in the surrounding outlying rural areas (farms and smallholdings mainly - some of them lived in rented accomodation). But I got through it all - and emerged from my living hell into another living hell - WORK - and that is what I have run away from - Its all a white lie - but the beautiful flabmeister Bianca fell for it hook line and sinker - and now she is mopping my furrowed canals and treating me like a gentleman. Ah - it is ood to talk sometimes...

Drunken Driving in Palermo Area

Went out for a little drive in a hire car - Yes Bianca can drive ! - so we visited some local villages nearish Palermo - Coaucu, Croce Verde, Gibilrossa - up 400m and fresh feeling and I was ripe for a bevy. So we bundled in to a little cafe and drank very cheap red wine all afternoon and Bianca forgot she was driving - silly arsehole and so did I so I had to sober her up by dunking her in a full basin of ice cold water - I said to the barman in sign language and mutterings - that the lady was a bit pissed and we were driving - and he brewed up a special brain sizzler coffee that made her hair stand on end - like the squirrel in Hoodwinked what I saw in Seville recently on a drab day on my own in my despodency before the big fat Mamma arrived and whisked me off into drunken driving adventures like Wild at Heart. So anyways, the coffee seemed to work and she clambered back in (squeezed more like) to the car and we sped off at high speed back to our beloved Palermo hotel and sleep.

Shut eye - Shut Gob

I have been trying to persuade Bianca to shave her hair off like Britney Spears but she seems to be worried that her Mother (who arrives here in Palermo on Tuesday next week) would not approve. I called her a chicken and she went into a Tequila sulk for 5 hours and I though she was going to get silly with a gun or something but I do not think she has access to one (I hope bloody not for my sake) like a William Burroughs style Junky shooting or something saucy like that. But no violence ensued today - lucky really - we do not want to wake up the Mafia. I've got enough problems - like trying to relearn standing up straight after being given a toke on some wicked weed - only two tokes and I wa dripping into a melting pot of mixed up psychadelic Sicilian hoodoo voodoo. I was given the snatch of illicit cooch by Racy Stevens, an American I have been nodding at incoherently in a couple of bars here recently - and it turned out he hought I wanted to purchase - but quiye honestly after I have topped up my alcohol level to my required amounts and had me fill of Bensons - the old Mary Jane does my poor little fried head in big time. So Bianca looked like a twoo headed monster from a Godzilla movie and I was only 1 foot tall with a misguided idea that if I looked like I was playing mind football everyone would think I was dancing. But I kept in a good frame of mind and did not get paranoid - at least not enough to worry about - for chists sake I'm free ! free as a white seagull and I can do whatever I like - so the last thing I want to do is get paranoid - alright - have you go that you chicken pluckers. Now - back to spooning Bianca and a pleasant kip - ahhh the night time is my salvation - a bit of well earned SHUT EYE !!

Palermo and Champagne

Great - a simple life - sick only twice yesterday - and here in Palermo I'm starting to reconstruct myself with the one babe bevy of beauty Bianca - and by god I needed that. Staying here at Giorgios, who seems a nice chap and we are contemplating our navels and navel gazing is a great hobby of mine - of course we have splashed out on some Champagne - a case to be precise because my money is lasting (I HOPE) and I have smoked the finest Benson and Hedges I have had all travels. Bianca keeps saying she is going to switch to red wine and then like the crazy gal she is she opens another bottle of the champers - oh darling dooo open another bottle of that stuff its simply devine. So not much to report n Palermo yet except some irate locals getting all Sicilian with us because we couldnt walk in a straight line in this surreal taxi ramp with hmps on it and ended up in a fish shop with euros falling out of my pocket - and most of my money now smells of fish - bloody hell that is vile. Bianca poned her mum and she is threatening to come out and take her home - I can see an almighty bust up - apparently she is looking at a flight out to Palermo early next week - so I wanna be outta here by then - but of Bianca darling comes first and I suppose if she wants to see her mummy (you should have heard the swearing gor blimey) then she'll have to see her mummy dearest. Another swig and another toke and another settle back right now to the sweet sounds of Armchair Astronaut my favourite label of all time and all infinity backwards - check them out !

Exploring with Bianca

Well, where the hell have I been then - and yes if you were wondering, yes I have mangaed to use my powers of persuasion and entice the lovely big and bubbly Bianca to enjoy a meander through the Worlds more Esoteric spots and to pick my spots too if she so desires, and that is the least of my worries her desires - because we have been lurching from one watering hole to another in an attempt to drink Spain dry and then - in this last week of non communication - I have been too bladdered to type folks - we went back to Italy - tried Sardines in Sardinia and wandered in very hot temperatures where the Aga Khan jet set partied in the sixties on the beutiful Emerald Coast and we even had ime for a spot of snorkelling in between bouts of desperatebeer drinking in bars with AC Milan fans. OOH by eck this girl can put away a truck load of booze, and she likes her sandwiches too - cheese and pickle mainly. She is nce though and she has been very kind and generous - even buying a round in Cagliari when I had completely forgotten where my wallet was - and bought me a screwdriver to repair my plug adapter thingy which I had bust by ripping out of the wall (and damaging some local property in Olbia). Still, it has been nice - and now we have ended up in Sicily of all places - Palermo - and I have my feet up with a big bottle of cheap lager and I am now ordering Bianca to write something - here she comes .... Hello world - and MUM !! I've copped a right wanker here - but he's got me to leave a right bunch of tosspots in Seville so I am glad for him to be in the right place at the right time and he does own a male dongle - so I shouldnt complain and he aint too demanding if you know waht I mean. Weather is lovely - beer is still cheap and he does most of the buying - none of this Dutch milarky - so I aint going to moan - looking forward to grinding my ass in a few clubs if I can persuade him to get off his ass and do something... Love to you all my little kittens !!

Me and My Hip Flask do the tourist thing

Perhaps Seville is best for waiting around in and firstly because there is no coast for me to bum around on the beach and waste my time and also there are great historic places. Bianca is still leaving me hangin on and I had a shock of when today I went to Jerez and then quickly came back because I was confused by the Coach service and arriving back in Seville from peaceful Jerez at the ultra modern Estacion Santa Justa I was immediately conscious of arriving in a big city that is, to put no finer point on it, absolutely crawling with tourists resembling androids and ants, spiders earwigs and beetles, scorpions (some of them) and pick pockets. It’s all a bit daunting. Of course I like the Cathedral (1402-1506) and it is fine and dandy with all the Moorish influences, built on the site of the previously most rectangular of mosques, it is actually bigger than St Paul’s Cathedral at eleven and a half square metres. It is huge and gloomy, dripping with religious overtones, black mist descends upon me and I start to feel sick, and pretty empty really, good place to escape from the ants. There is a Christopher Columbus chapel, but for the I went today for the whole story, and to visited the old stock-exchange across the way, which now houses the archives of the Indies with some pretty fascinating stuff, including Columbus’s log. People march in, they march out, then they put thier left leg in and so on in a kind of moronic dance of the tourist - sorry for this rant but I have had to do something today while waiting for Bianca to join me on my adventure of a lifetime and I got bored of tourists pushing and barging me so I moved onto the the Alcazar, which is an astonishing Palace, genuinely spectacular. And so on - what a day - bored one minute then getting into it - and all the while my friendly little hip flask kept me company (fine French cognac this time) and plenty of nice aromatic Fortunas Cigarettes and a casual flick of the ash here and a cynical flick of the ash there and I guess I was OK. And apparently the Romans used this site and when the Arabs came it was infamous for a sexy palace that contained a harem of eight hundred women some of them possibly as big as Bianca. Pedro the Cruel lived here with his mistress Maria de Padilla who was lusted and dreamt of and chased after by all the upright men of the court - and quite right too. So by now I needed a beer so I ducked into teh black of a Seville Inn and had a couple and wiped the sweat off my brow - Jesus wept - another day in waiting - I am Binaca's man in waiting - I will do her hair and advise on gowns. Waht on earth will I do tomorrow - I may do a duck and get rat arsed for a week - why not I have the money and it might be fun - Watch This Space - If I can still write coherently.....

Chilli Vodka

So now I am settling in to the waiting game here in my Seville hotel room with little flakey flameco guitarists on the walls and pastel lampshades. The air is muggy and my socks stink. But I am waiting for the big big prize of Bianca the nanny. So I have spent many hours drinking the couple of bottles of chilli vodka I got yesterday and listening to long free forming from Under Mother Bungalow - avid readers will now know I am a big fan of this lot from Brighton UK and I hope they are doing well in their chosen ways. Is anyone out there !!!
So hot ho hot vodka scarring my throat with its alcoholic spiciness and niceness.... all on my own again, standing on my head for hours and occasionally allowing so much spittle to ooze out of my mouth that I must look like I am dying. BUT I AM NOT DYING - I am very much alive - alive with the idea of traipsing around Europe and I hope other continents with the Big Bouncy Bianca Babe, she of the ability to squash me with one misplaced show of affection. Of course I am now drawing up a list and I have Berlin, Wasaw, Sicily, Tunis, Cairo, Istanbul and Bognor (well maybe not). I think Bianca mentioned St Tropez and Corfu. We will have to agree to disagree and that may well be the fun of it all - or we will just have to split up and go our separate ways - in the full realisation that we would never be comatible and never settle on where to go. WHO KNOWS - I am looking forward to the challenge and doing something in new bars.

Poem for Bianca

Quick bit of Bianca inspired poetry coming up - I think she is heading for a momentous decision to tour around the hotspots with me to who knows where, and I can feel a heavy adventure coming on with this heavy lady of the nanny trade.

Oh Heavy Lady of the Nanny Trade

Oh heavy lady of the nanny trade
Forget your billowing thighs and ride with me
To the best places in the world
Where we can drink Stella and Wine
Vodka and Whisky
Smoke the local cigarettes
And dance the dance of a thousand cultures
Yes ! Drop the nannying and nanny me
Through Customs and narrow streets
Wide thoroughfares and smoky bars
Hotel rooms anonymous or palatial
Countryside devine
Where maybe we can find the perfect meadow of wild flowers to
Lie in and have a huge picnic

Esten Walker

Bianca Comes up Trumps (perhaps)

Bumped into Bianca today and saw her fat wobbly legs billowing on a bike ! I don't mind one bit and I told her as much - but this time there was no wack round the head with a handbag, just a grimace then a cheeky laugh - she then rode off towards her nanny work - I ran after her and she nearly wobbled off - and I physically removed her from her bike and got her into a bar near the bus station where I offered her a Fortuna and we drank a cool beer and she told me how she was going to leave her job soon because she "can't stick it" much longer coz they are "F%^&%$£ W4353kers" !! and I told her to wash her mouth out with soap but she said she prefers whiskey and a chaser so I bought her a large one of both and we got into a very good conversation about the strengths and weaknesses of Seville and I explained my situation. She found it all very interesting - the never ending quest round Europe and the world for rest, relaxation, excitement and comradeship and NOT working. I told her about the film work in Barcelona and even the dodgy situation I got into with that women and Ricardo and the frightening time I had after. I ended up trying to persuade her to join me on a bit of a quest and she is very tempted - she says she MUST work for at least a week more to get the dosh these pratty parents are going to pay her - and then instead of doing another month which she is due to she is sorely inclined to join me on the expedition of a lifetime through the haunts and wild side of wherever. So hanging round here aint so bad - More Seville I can handle - and I got another round in and lit a Fortuna the wrong way round. Life is like grid of squares - most of us choose one and stick with it - but I intend to hop about like a mad man over all of the squares regardless of colour race or creed. Hopefully there will be Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll along the way without the drugs because they do my head in too much and I need a straight head for all the drink I have to savour - Regional Varieties of drink excite me and have become a bit of a hobby of mine. Ahhhh Bianca - we are surely going to have so much fun !!

Wheel of Fortuna

I now have to decide really, do I stay here because I really do like this city - or do I move on because I'm not meeting enough like minded people who want to share a beer and a wine with an Englishman from Barking. I also cut my foot and lost a lot of blood - which made me feel woozy and that has got me thinking. So a move may be on the cards. I went for a ong walk by the Canal Alfonso XIII and took in the Spring Sunshine and got very sweaty - looked forward to some Beach Fun !! in the summer I have got to get down and with it on the surf and sand somewhere. I dipped into a very shady bar and sat down with my shades on drinking a bottle of local vino tinto and miding my own business when who should walk in but a crowd of Stag Party nutters from Stoke. I listened as they whooped it up a bit and I asked them why they all had "Lost in a Blaze Crew" on their matching T Shirts but got no coherent answer and it was then that I made my mind up to wander ou and change city soon, because I need some breaks and they aint happening to me at the moment - cut foot, lonely in some ways and I remembered fondly even Frank in Naples and the drunken nights - he was a pain but at least he was company. So Decision time in the offing and a momentous one at that I think in all honesty it is time to spin the wheel of fortuna and smoke a cigarette before they are banned everywhere. I may head for France again

Religion

Oh my Sweet lord ! - Went back to Zapata last night after a row with a wild dog and to calm my nerves down some swift beers and engaged in Religious discussions with some youngsters. Oh Blimey - they seem so open to the rubbish of the new age and I feel it is leading them up the garden path into the rubbish tip at the back of the house where Stig lives (if you have read the book you will know what I mean). These particular youngsters seemed to be engaged in a Buddhist come Christian come Druid kind of philosophy which I admit bamboozled me and, as a stick in the mud Agnostic with heavy Atheist tendencies (being a betting man what else can I be - although its not worth a bet (life after death and all that Jazz) because I wont be here to collect) - in fact it will mean nothing - and nothingness will be all pervasive - the ultimate black - not even a hole. This discussion went on for a couple of hours and friends turned up and went and then I smoked one too many Fortunas and started hacking a nasty cough which put them off a bit - being clean living types so I retired

Cool it Down

Belatedly I will say unlucky to Spurs for so nearly knocking out this fair city of Seville but just not quite getting up to the mark to pull it off like Man Utd did with their dance of death all over those poor Roma bodies. Thought I would start off with a topically late bit of football since I come from UK and can talk the beautiful game with the worst of them in the pub with 6 pints of stella and plenty of Bensons clogging up my throat. Talking of which, I am moving on in a big way to Fortunas here in this fair city of beauty and wine - when in Spain, smoke like a Spaniard - which means smoke a lot - just not when you are showering - all other times are fair game. I puffed my way through two packs yesterday and had such a dry throat at the end of it all I had to down a bottle of finest Rioja to cool it down. I am still barring it up with the occasional companion Cordia and also Bianca from Wigan who is here working as a nanny - nice red gear and brown tan with plenty of curves - but she works most of the time so I have actually only spoken to her for 10 minutes and I got a handbag round the ears for calling her plump.

Bars and More Bars in Seville

In an typical foolhardy attempt at ingratiating myself into the Seville Bar Scene I took on the huge variety of venues in a small central town area and hit the booze with big time gusto which started well. I started by visiting four or five completely different bars without staggering more than ten minutes between any of them, and had a chat with people who speak my lingo who could explain the ‘scene’. In sentences of more than two syllabals and a kindness that I so obviously crave after the dumping I have received lately from females. So, anyways up Cordia tells me in fractured splintered English, which is the best I can get, that the main areas are: Alfalfa, and Pérez Galdós which is my hit spot for next weekend to get hot and sweaty with people in close proximity; Alameda, which has a more alternative scene, with lots of gay bar gay bar gay bar and clubs – the packed trouser and moustache brigade in keen macho attendance; and calle Betis by the river in Triana, which is wall-to-wall with venues, from quiet peaceful bars where I can drift into a pleasant stupour, to all-night clubs.
Last night I stayed long and drank hard – many Tequilas tickling my throat at Zapata where I met Cordia and her friend Rachel (Danish/Portuguese bombshell who left a crater in my heart when her boyfriend Carlos turned up and whisked her off to his flat for a night of passion). Foundsomewhere to have Bacon and Eggs in a Spain style a la Seville and then persuaded Cordia to accompany me to Bluebar Cafe where I drank too much beer.

Expressing Myself Through Art

Gently Gently - gently does it - I'm not the biggest loser - I have a mighty weight on my brain in the form of a depression but on the other hand I am in a great town - SEVILLE and I have got the time to knock out some art - see my Seville inspired artwork here - Good aint it? and there is no better way to get over that Polish whirlwind than to concentrate on some of the higher things like being as creative as one can possibly squeeze out of oneself until the creative pips come bursting out and fill the cup that spilleth over in a flood of artistic juice. Nice one - that is my bent for now, and drinking the local vino tinto and getting my razzle dazzled by some of the laid backness that goes on in this fair city. I am oled up in a smal 3 star hotel and am out all day with my pencils sketching abstracts in bars and beholding the light and vivacity - Oh gor blimey guvnor. So I may be knocked sideways and spilling metaphorical blood all over my carpet, but I am finding a way out and it is a long narrow route with white walls and no windows but it is my route and I intend to stick to it with only the occasional rest.

Its Gone Wrong Already !!

Its all turned very sour , very quickly. I should have known it was going to be a bad day when I cut myself very badly shaving. A huge gaping wound spilling woth blood all over Riki's new white shirt, laid on the old Spanish chair in our Seville hotel room. Bugger, Buggeration godammit !! Cut on the chin was soon followed by clout on head and in our new found romantic sign language it was then followed by a slamming door. I was left to ponder where it had all gone wrong. Why, when the passion of the flamenco and tapas had seemed to be charging me and her with a new found enrgy - why had it all come to a sudden stop... Bastardos della fortuana mal chance BUGGER...

Fish in Spain

Seville is the home of my Dreams

I must say Seville is blooming lovely - I've met a young Polish visitor who calls herself Riki and we have been going around sampling the life here and the wine and beer. Its been a whirlwind of concoctions, tastes and passion. Flamenco music and erotic flirtations, and my vomiting episodes recently have been all but forgotten. I have wined and dined with Riki taking in the heady gypsy romantic Spanish vibe that is Seville, already hot and sweaty, and gently on simmer before the Summer starts roasting. I have forgotten the stupidities of the filming job in Barcelona where really it is true, I bit off more than I should have attempted to chew. So Riki is at one time bringing me firmly back too earth and also swooping me into the blue sky with her charming ways. She does not speak a word of English and we commumicate by groove and jive signage with a twist of smiles and burps, farts and skips. Its really weirs and wonderful. Only in Seville - home of my dreams.

Seville

Yes - oh Yes - I have arrived in my natural home - oh yes - I am here right now, stuffing my face full of the most wonderful olives - and scoffing Tapas like a small dish nerd, and I Lurve it - in fact I think I will stay here some time - it feels like my city. I arrived here by bus of all things !! started off at the Plaza de Armas Bus Station chewing my gum and acting cool, took a stroll down to Museo de Bellas Artes and it knocked my block off. The museum was formerly the Convento de la Merced Calzada and knocked up in 1612 by a guy called Juan de Oviedo. Today the restored structure has a superb collection of Spanish art and sculpture, including work by Murillo, Juan de Valdes Leal, Francisco de Zurbaran and Valeriano Becquer. I kick out and shimmy off feeling much better after all that vomiting the other day and hey - here is the Plaza Neueva, there isPlaza Salvador, Plaza Alfalfa and the Train Station and bars - loads of bars to drink wine - NICE

Dicky Tummy

Ahhh - Glorious April - I remember Spring in a non parched land eith the smell of the daffodils - well it is a bit springy around here - but not half as springy as my arse - Its bouncing on the toilet seat every half hour - and these runs just don't seem to let up - I must be losing so much weight that I will have no beer gut left to show off my travels if I am not careful. It all started last night in my mini hotel room - The lady Garlanda or something in the room next to saw me bent double in the corridor and gave me some Diorolite which worked for a bit - she contacted the Hotel Manager Fatty Raoul - who stunk of some kebab like substance and made me want to vomit. They just layed me up in my room and I have been snoozing spasmodically and running for the loo ever since. It'll only last a bit longer - I can feel my appetite coming back and then I think I will eat something and then sod this hiding away lark - I am heading for Granada and Seville in Southern Spain - should be nice - touch of the old flamencos and lots of Red Wine and Brandy and I suppose some Bensons. Must be off - got an appointment to plonk my arse in a hole.

Headache Blues

Terrible headache the last few days = pain and anguish. No, I have not been beaten to a pulp, but I guess I have been worried by the thought of it, so much so that i have taken to wearing a kind of disguise, SUNGLASSES, HAT, hawaiin shirts and I have taken to smoking Cuban Cigars and I have a weeks stubble nearing some kind of beard type structure on my chin. The only thing that stops the headache is a good bit of traditional English binge drinking - but I hold back until noon- because I do not want to draw too much attention to myself - and as it is for purely medicinal purposes I treat it as a medicinal challenge and try to get myself the best treatment I can which round where i am at the moment - All I will say is SOUTHERN SPAIN - i think is the Brandy, Wine and Beer in that order. So that takes up most of my time, althoug I am getting to see the countryside on some walks and even once on horseback which was thrilling because the horse was a tough galloper with a feisty mind of its own. So the days trickle on like treacle and I mender down the alleys and up the hills with my trusty Havana and a couple of bottles of the local brew and vino - HEAVY on the back !! but strictly necessary ! - Its the good life if it were not for the worry of being turned into a stiff - and this rampaging headache ...

Abstract Feelings while Hiding from a Beating

Feeling faintly abstract today - in fact very surreal. I still cannot divulge where in Spain I am in fear of being caught and squashed by a big Film Industry thug - so you can live without that I guess. The sun rays caught me today and the mildest first sunburn of the season got me thinking of summer and surf and the Beach Boys sound while I was partaking of a swift lager or two in a sleepy spanish town in my sleepy old way like a Mexican with Sleeping sickness under my Sombrero. Still no meet up yet with the Agnes character or of course Petra. I have been talking in my Pigeon way around the locals and into the supermarkets to by the Wine and Bread to feed my 5000 hunger and thirst pangs. The wandering around does start getting to you and it got to me so much I ended up in a Laundromat washing my filthy clothes - so wandering is sometimes good if it gets to be hygenic do you not think squire ? So now I have well laundered clothes and I am getting paranoid of stains and dirt in general. When I open a beer I actually pull away and try to avoid spray. When I sit on the ground I look for a newspaper or the like to sit on first. Ahhh the joys of clean clothes - I feel 100% attractive - lean - except for a bulging stomach - and happy in a kind of isolated occasionally paranoid way. So te days drift on - onw into the other as I lay low - a fugitive in a foreign land - in hiding but actually free - free to do whatever I want, which is drink beer and wine - smoke Benson, and chat a bit with locals in a trivial way. Perhaps life will come back to wallop me on the head but I might as well enjoy this interlude while I have it - it may not last as long as it feels !!

Trouble, BIG trouble !!

Oh boy - its been quite a week - got the sack - I'll have to quick - Ricardo is after me and wants my blood spilled all over the kitchen table or wherever - and YES it is all about a Women ( Maria - OHHHH Maria) and I went for her big time and how was I to know that it was Big Rics bit on the side thankyou very much - Daggers are drawn and I dont have one - my life is cheap now - like a Guatamalan Farmers assistant - I have no real value except to the people who love me and there are none - except of course Agnes who texted me recently and I expect to turn up some time and set me loose from these chains of fear I live in - I have moved on - but christ you should have seen the Wrath !! he means business - anyway - there is no way I'm going to spill the beans on where I am - so until it dies down I will keep quiet about that - I did have a swim today and 15 beers and a slurp of Scotch - nice - needed that I'll fill you in if I'm not filled in first - wish me luck

Film Plot

Run Run Run - ba DOOO Run Run Run - this lark is quite pleasing now I get paid 150 euros a day and I get free booze. The actors and actresses are very nice and know how to relax - and I even know the plot. There is this gangster type from the UK known as Ronnie and his Spanish gang of Gypsies and they run a protection racket in Barcelona. A young Restaurant owner, Fred, tries to stand up to them but becomes embroiled in a heated love affair with Ronnies wife - Garlatta - who is Romanian I think. She tells Fred she will run away with him and on the night of their running away - Ronnie turns up with a slashed arm - They take him to hospital where he has a fit and smashes up the casualty department. Garlatta and Fred go down South and stay in a small town but after a few weeks she says she must return to see her Mother who is very ill - she decides to go in disguise - but Ronnies gang have thought of that and are staking her mothers hospital - She gets knifed by Ronnie himself - but she manages to push him under a bu where he dies. She however lives thrugh the knifing and breates the gang in a big scene att the fair where she tells them that they have ruined her life - they vow to follow her as leader if she wishes but she returns to small town living with Fred and start up a Restaurant - only to be pestered by small town hoods with a protection racket. She takes up killing them all one by one and becomes Mrs Big Fish in small pond - Fred falls out of love with her once he sees her nasty side and packs to leave but she will have none of it and threatens to kill him - in the ensuing fight he kills her with a kitchen knife and returns to Barcelona a broken man. He visits his mother who knows nothing of these tragic events and the film ends with him quietly shivering while drinking sherry watching Alien on the TV.

Good Plot
Good acting
Its called The Hood
And I recommend it when it comes out

Still a Runner

Had a long chat with Allani today about cash and she seemed to be implying that there would be none and I should be grateful to get such interesting work that a few drinks would suffice. Well I nearly exploded - I do not work for nothing I said - It would seem that you are taking the piss - Being Spanish dark haired and feisty she spat back at me that my type were two a penny in Barca and as far as she was concerned I could piss off,. Well Marco stepped in with 100 euros and stuffed it in my pocket and told me to get a quiet drink and settle down coz it was going to be a hard day. I ran around Barcelona - bumped into a few people and skived off in some nice gerdens with an omelette and a beer - charged around all afternoon trying to find a dress wuth Catrina - one of the sub leading ladies and trim and argumentative. This evening I went to a party and smapled the Barca Kitchen Party scene - drinking cocktails with stoned crew and insulting posh people. I staggered back here at 11pm and am now typing this naked - whoa slow down down now.

A quick poem

Rancid Butter in my Hair
Leeks and chopsticks leap
Mango Chutney in my hair also
And the small people eat it all.

Rabbits prancing in the Impossible Creature Game
With Crocodile teeth and chewing gum
Still the small people hurry and then relax
And then start behaving like tall people.

Beirut cheese and olive pate in wine vinegar
With belts and braces and nice trousers
Young women clasping their tummies
With their friends the small people taking over the world
(Much like the meek might one day)

Work in Barcelona

Got offered a job today - running for a film crew - you know - delivering messages and packages and rolls of film and all that jazz - so I took it and Marco (33 year old dark haired guy with annoyingly bright white teeth) and Allani his 19 year old girl assistant seemed to take a liking to me at the bar near my hotel and they are something to do with some flm being shot for the next few days in Barcelona and hey have had three or four guys walk out on them because of a nasty bust up involving some kind of fight and money and the like. So I have said Yes and I started today at 2pm. I was completely lost for a ages delivering a package in some tiny street and a map they had given me which was a bit chewed up - when I went up the steps to the big wooded door I coud hear laughing and after I knocked this huge fat guy opened and gave me a throaty OLA and then took the package. I could hear some sort of row going on inside and a bit of pushing and shoving but I was told to piss off before I could see anything. Acouple of packages later and I was back at the sae place - this was getting easier ! AHHH RElax I know my way round !! and this big fat guy invites me in for Mojitas and Ham Sandwichs which was pleasant - I knocked with his crew who were about six stron blokes and lasses - groovy smoker types with VERY COLOURFUL clothes - so vibrant and flowery and zinging that I needed sunglasses. I got quite relaxed and the Big Guy played me at table football and I beat him and he started coughing a lot - so I beat a retreat and back to Marcu And Allani for my next assignment - which turned out looking after the main lead in the film - Roberti who was parched - and did not have any more scenes today - so we got absolutely hammered at Dostrece in Calle Carme on multiple Mr JJs (Mr. JJ is mighty cocktail of a huge splash of Jameson with lime juice, vanilla and Sucre and stir, pepped up with ginger ale and ice to be precise). So I dod a good job and Roberti told me about his wicked ways and the high jinx he was up to his neck in multiple girlfriends and affairs with married women - Mama Madre !

So all in all things are looking up - but there seemed to be no mention of me being paid today and I have realised that I have not actually negotiated a deal here - so NOTE TO MYSELF - work that one out quick or it will end in tears.

Jeezers Whip and wangle

Flipped out sideways today in my Barcelona cubbyhole. Became INTRANSIGENT and STUBBORN beyond belief - refused to think laterally and made no headway towards a brighter future. Petra is NOT arriving and I do have to make some more friends - but AND THIS IS A BIG BUT !! do I feel like it right now when I have so much thinking to do and roaming around in my usual drunken fashion. So I have managed to consume 4 bottles of WINE today !! Now that is pretty good going is it NOT. Well NOT for my liver you health freaks out there I KNow NOT FOR MY Fukling Liver. But Its good for the head and I know that you will not deny me that.

So, Pigling Bland, I reality check the situation here in this vast party city and decide to rendezvos with myself at several bars in quick succession. Hip hop and do the trot (and the trotters - know what I mean?) So sampled many a Spanish Toilet Inquisition. Reality Check Numero 2 and what a Numero 2 she was - sat in the corner with her Pedro beside her which di not make me bat an eyelid - as I sidled up all nice like - She did the sly slip and I stumbled but she laughed and what a throaty spanish Cackle that was so that put me off. Anyway to cut my barrage short NOTHING CAME OF IT and I inreased my lung capacity by bellowing in the Road. Reality Check 3 - the Police approched but I could still run and I panted heavily for sevearl minutes. God I wanted to be in a Gondala in Venice or back with Pig make hippies in the hay and playing demonic rock music. Still, I am still alive and rambling in this fair city of Barcelona and alls well that ends well.

Petra contacted me !

Blaaah Blaahhh - Barcelonaaaahhhh Barcelona. Here I am - In Spain - home of Rioja and Tapas and all I have eaten today is Three McDonald Burgers and 4 portions of French Fries washed down with a luke warm beer !! mmmm nice. Well anyway its all that Agnes womans fault. But then this afternoon I got a text on my snazzy motorola from guess who - Yesss its old Petra Peranovitch the Bitch from the dark side - and she is feeling a bit pale and ashen because of the party scene in Rome getting a bit out of hand - you know La Dolce Vita can get a bit wearing in the end and so I have called her in - i.e sent the message over the ether that she ought to really jump on a plane or a train or hitch a ride in some big automobile and get over this way - Head West !! come and join me in the land of the free - No More Franco, No More Mussolini, No more Spaghettior Ravioli - sample the garlic mushrooms my dear. So anyway - she said that she would think about it, but her boyfriend (shockwaves !!) was not in the mood to travel - so I said get over hereon your own - hook up with me and sample the wild life - we can go sown south, sing some duets, piss in the sea and all in time for home and tea. It sounds great dont you think. Spain is the place to unravel and unwind - ahhh ! I can see it now GLORY BE ----- PETRA yeeee haaaa lets ride into the Tequila Sunset on our Steeds of greay and Aubergine. Lets dance flamenco badly. Sample Picasso and eat very late.

A Dump in Spades

I have returned to Marseilles and had a long telephone conversation with Agnes and she told me that I ought to carry on on my own adn find myself. Well I aint lost - oh no sireee. So I have packed my bag and I have travelled on a lon old journey round into Spain by Train. I could see the countryside become a bit more parched and I slated my thirst with copious quantities of Beer. Ahh the lovely nectar. I teamed up with an Australian from Melbourn called Frank and we go along like a house on fire and soon I had forgotton that Hippy nonsense I had fallen into back in the hills and I enjoyed a much more superficial slap on the back kind of laugh with Frank. He could drink some. We limped into Barcelona like a pair of mutton chops and I needed to have a piss which was when the badness happened and I returned into the station concourse to find my bag full of dirty laundry gone and so was Frank. It was bad for a second then I thought good riddance, at least I have my wallet in muy pants. So that was my introdcution to the land of the flameco gypsy and Fortuna. I am based in a small 2 star hotel and ready to have someaction once I have got this bout of food poisoning out of the way - dashing to the loo every 20 or 30 minutes sometimes more - for a quality explosive dump in spades.

The odd rant

Are right then - been some time - been some time - well - I've been a bit lonely - Agnes tripped off to Cannes to do some cooking course and left me high and dry - just for a few days and hazy days they have been in a spewing kind of wretched way - If only I could smell her Lavender perfume and see her remove her support stockings. Dragons and Dungeons occupy my mind and the rants have started again. Fed on Vodka and local red wine the rants have returned to play full force in my brain. Why do they wrap around my cortex like glue sniffers - Do I have to put up with them - are they going to put up shop - will they get smaller and fade away or get bigger and explode out of my head onto a passerby. Will I survive this - well yes of course I will because I am enjoying it and of course the longer I travel around in this myasmic universe of unfulfilled dreams they call Europe then I will be plagued by the old melancholy every now and then and thats not such a bad thing when you come to think of it really - I mean - you can survive the odd slap of depression every now and then relatively unscathed and we do not carry guns.

Romance in Paris coming up I think perhaps maybe

all that stuff with Pig and his extended family seems like a dream now - I thought I was going to be some big Alterno Mega Star at one point there, before reality and spittle flew at me like bowling balls from hell. At least Agnes is still around we have taken to walking in the hills - the beautiful French hills, and running freely from the rain in fits of giggles and staring into each others eyes before downing a solid glurp of the finest red wine in the world. The French are hard to beat and I dont try. The buds of spring are pinging up and although I do need to do some laundry rather urgently - I hink we boh have that feeling of Spring in the air - I have said to Agnes - "Howa bout a trip to gay Paree" and she said yes, So I think I am about to divert myself once again and head for the romantic capital of La Monde. I had a mouth ulcer today but the magical thing is that it went of its own accord in less than 5 hours - some kind of record in my life - and that must mean something do you not think reader. Bob ? are you even reading this ?

Music trip in a Commune

Christ - it seems like I have lived through a whirlwind tornado. Me and Agnes have decamped from our posh hotel and have been living in a commune in the Cevenne. The hills in Provence at the back of Nimes somewhere I think - although I may as well have been blindfolded for all I knew about the journey - (too much Sloe Gin from Albert - but I'll tell you more about him in a moment). Agnes had got a phone call from a girlfriend (well a bit of an old biddy) called Janice - French woman with a lot of makeup - and she said she was coming over to take us to these great people out in the hills. It took hours in her little Renault 4 (about 30 years old I think) and we were squashed in with this Garlic heavy breather Albert who had this 1.5 litre bottle of Sloe Gin which I developed a very aquired taste for. He smoked French lung busters and I indulged at his expense as well - luckily Agnes said she liked the Gallic smells of Smoke and garlic - and Janice said that she had slept with Albert on and off for twentfive years and she had still not got used to it so Agnes is welcome. Agnes winced and then gave me a saucy wink - to say do not worry lover boy. So we rolled up a stoney lane past ruins of old cottages and beautiful streams - to a large stonehouse with lights on around 8pm - I think this was about 4 days ago. Janice banged on the front door and it was opened by a wide eyed hippy with a red silk scarf and baggy clothes, messy curly brown hair and a big joint in his mouth - this was my first sighting of Pig.

We entered in a heap into a room filled with kids, hippy women and two other skinny type guys rolling joints in kind of cowboy gear. We were immediately offered a toke or teo and then I staggered into the back mess of a kitchen and was sick in the sink.

Next day - I woke up next to Agnes with a thumping headache that was rythmically thumping to the beat of a loud jam session going on practically at the foot of my bed - two young artful dodger type boys in raggy clothes and filth (no more than eleven years old) were squeezing out some crazy lcks on electric guitars - Pig was laying some bone crushing Bass down with manic eyes and a joint in his mouth - while one of the more exhuberent chubby mothers was excitedly playing a full kit of drums that I had not noticed in the corner of this old ramshackle sloping room. I was awestruck and ill, gobsmacked and sick, a shambles of a man in a weird situation and running out of ideas on how to survive - I looked to my side and Agnes was'nt there and I managed to get up and tooter in a dance like way to the groove over to the door and peered roun - I was greeted with a lovely sight - Agnes with flowers in her hair (spring comes early round here) and a big cup of coffee. She immediately got up and handed me her cup - she knew I need it more than her - she smiled and I smiled and I wandered back into the room and started amssive (if a bit jerky) primal scream that went so well with the music that they played harder and louder (if that was possible - must have been volume 11) and I started to go primal and belted out in tongues what I think will be the makings of an albums worth of Hippy Nouveau musak a la Zappa and Beefheart - with tinges of the awesome Under Mother Bungalow and their Armchair Astronaut friends. The rest is history - I smoked a gallon of weed and tripped the light fantastic - saw what Pig could see with those crazy eyes and melted each night into the bosom of my Agnes - the tartan slapper with flowers in her hair and large mugs of caffeine. Loud music almost 24 hours a day with me on Primal vocals and a shifting band line up of whoever could hold an instrument and vaguely plug it in or hit it with a stick.

It was FFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!! Great - I was only sick twice more - and it was more like a small retch each time and not in the least bit unpleasant.

I did get kicked out in the end for fighting topo hard with Pig and rolling into one of the kids and disslocating the poor things shoulder. I did manage to squeeze it back into place but the kid was in a lot of pain. Pig got very showy and acted the main man bit which got on my tits. I called Agnes over and made a speech about how we had had a great time and the music had been inspiring but that I felt that Pig had misunderstood my boisterousness and that it was a shame - but one of the women spat at me (I think she was the boys mother) so we turned and left. Janice drove us to the nearest town and we said our goodbyes - she said she was going to stay there for a few months to see if she could work it through with Albert and we wished her luck.

We shacked up in a tiny Hotel d'Or and drank copius amounts of beer (Kronenbourg)

Tartan Slapper

We strolled through the hussle and bustle of the old port like an old couple married 40 years today. Stopped for Ice cream and them later some moules, Muscadet, and I bought a sailor cap. I felt like that old guy in Some Like It Hot who gets Tony Curtis, except I am relatively young and Agnes is 50 year old woman. I bought Agnes some very French thick stockings and we bought postcards - I sent one to Bob - Hi Bob - hope the pregnacy is going good, sorry about your complete loss of freedom ! I'm having a great time - not thinking of you ... Esten. I felt like giving him a call but I thought better of it - he would give me a bad time about Agnes if I told him.

Back at the hotel I played Agnes some of that Wireless and Under Mother Bungalow stuff I have been on about - and she thought it was weird drug infused stuff - I think it twisted her melons abit because she behaved quite strangely for an hour or so after - spouting strange existentail stuff like we are living in the inverse of nothing and can be flipped out into infinite nthing at any moment - she is closer to the big death thing than me by some twenty years so I can understand. We ate Lobster later and then retired earlyish but I couldnt sleep so I bashed this out on Agnes's laptop (very hi tech for a tarten slapper).

I Marseille, Its a wonderful Place

It turns out Agnes knows a guy called Mickey who lives in Marseilles and yeterday we paid him a visit in is little house out somewhere away from the old town in a kind of rough suburb. He is a greying tanned hard looking man with a rascal smile and a smokers voice. He was very pleased to see Agnes and they seemed to talk about money and blokes in London a lot. Then we went to a local bar and he splashed some cash around and we got merry and then spilled out about 8pm and went for a Moroccan Cous Cous. He was faily well spannered by the time we got him home asnd Agnes was a bit worried about him - she used to live with him in London about 20 years ago and she still keeps an eye on his health. I asked her what he did in Marseilles and she just said keeps his head down and minds his own business which is what I should do if I still wanted the comfort of a fine lady and my head on my neck. Nice.

We thn go a ca back to the Hotel and drank heavily in the bar.

I woke up this morning with a regal thumoing headache and snot and saliva on my face. I washed and then realised there was mud all over the flannel. Not sure where that came from. I spent half an hour tring to find a sock and Ages got angry and stormed down to Breakfast without me. I felt sick in the lift, but managed to wolf down a full breakfast of eggs and creal and toast with 3 cups of coffee and an orange juice. I filled myself up and became unsteady on my feet so headed back to the room - I read the Herald Tribune and about a place in Colorado called Telluride - a mountain resort — "charming wood-frame houses selling for $2 million and up, a little airstrip where the rich can fly in on their Gulfstreams or Falcon jets, the many residents whose lives consist largely of skiing in the winter, tennis in the summer and chartering yachts in the Caribbean in the spring and fall" and drifted into a fantasy about mega money - big sacks of cash, large bank accounts would preferable all in my name - with transfers happening with 8 zeros and nothing much to do other than party, ski and grab a bite to eat. I felt more sick.
Sleep intervened and I dreamt of Limbo - floating in an eternal jelly - Lime flavoured Jelly with a baby face and old skin.
Agnes woke me up and we have done a crossword - she really has taken a bit of a shine to me - where is this all going to end ?

Tartan and Sunglasses of an Older Woman

Phew! - got out of Naples. One hell of a lot of travel by train - a night stopover in La Spezia and then pushed on through to France and here I am in Marseilles - home of Eric Cantona ( I think maybe) and Zidane (maybe I think). I like the look of this place it has a certain ho hee ho about it and fishy hardness. I think I may stay here a while maybe two days. I have met up with Agnes, a 55 year old cruiser lady who seems to enjoy the younger man and who is not falling to pieces herself but has crinkled a little bit in the sun. She seems to enjoy her Gin and Sidney Sheldon novels. Her handbag is stuffed full of money and perfume and we have been having a bit of a wail of a time. I met her on the train up from the Italian Riviera where she has apparently been playing Poker and drinking alot, and we have hooked up in the same room (Mr and Mrs Smith) of the New Hotel in the Pharo area near the old port (very pricey and rich 5 star type hotel - not my usual style but I have to please the lady (and she is paying a hefty whack of the bill anyways.

Its quite an attractive traditional building which apparently used to be part of the former Pasteur institute so its says in my guide. On the inside it is very modern and chic and the drinks are quite pricey but who cares , the lobby area is laid out with dark grey tiles that I just want to rub my stomach on and Agnes bounded up to the large reception desk and started calling the girl a honey sweeteypie (thats what she is like). In the back of the lobby is an attractive lounge area, entirely constructed with glass which is real trendy and we hung out there for a couple of minutes taking it in, then we ascended the large dark grey staircase that leads to the first floor bar and restaurant area - hooray double gins all round and we descended into a night of oblivion and debauchery. Excellent. Agnes wears tartan alot and sunglasses most of the time - Sweet.... I'll let you know if she gobbles me alive - first blog from the stomach of a maneater - or if I can avoid her gut and move on with my life in an orderly fashion putting a wild fling with an older woman firmly behind me while accepting that it was quite necessary at the time for my development as a full rounded individual with the potential to do great things on this earth in the short (yes its very short really) time allotted to all of us for doing anything really. Anyway, this has livened me up a bit .... Adieu

Champagne and Red Wine all Afternoon

Still in Naples - yes never got out - but it will be soon that I get out and I think it will be therapy for me to go to Spain. I have been doing a bit of wandering and bumped into Frank again and he said that I was looking awful - and that I needed a stiff drink, which I wholeheartedly agreed with so we adjourned to small pizza restaurant and proceeded to drink red win all afternoon. I was in the mood to flash my money around so we drank the expensive stuff and it was very nice indeed - I did avoid he smokes though - which would have maded me chesty today, Frank told me about his rough youth in the Catholic side of Belfast and it sounded tough and rough and dangerous - he is lucky to be alive. We had laugh when the waiter came out and did a bit of a song and dance act for us - very forties music hall, and then the manager came out and told us some rude jokes which was nice - I cannot remember any though so tough. I did bend over double on the floor a couple of times and for an hour we were joined by some very drunk German women who looked about 40 and were out for a good time (it was only 3pm !) but then they started trying to tap me for a drink or three and I got fed up with buying them Champagne and it all came to nothing.

Lying on the floor looking at the door

Holed up here in my little Naples Garden Hotel - today no drinking whatsoever. Felt shivery about 3 hours ago and shaky. But lay on the floor listening to the Armchair Astronaut podcasts. That sorted me out. Ate a big fat juicy ciabatta and thought about womens clothing. It is a funny thing all that allure of the fishnet - sailors and fishermen spend hours repairing their nets - while lots of women go out in torn up tights and burlesque gear. This does seem to be coming in again - you know corsetry and just the thought of it makes me want to reach for my lemon vodka. A very boring day - nothing to report from the televisual scaletric brain of Esten Walker - walker on the arth and bound for god knows where - in search of the oblivion tree - there to climb and see the view - and probably fall off if my luck is anything like what it is at the moment - all my introverted self musing deliberations at Bracciano Lake seem to have come to nothing - I am as switched off as usual - I feel unable to really let go on this holiday and get out and about like I should - gor blimey. The sweat is pouring off my brow and I have a deep pain in my butt. Still should be better tomorrow - I think I might head off before the mafia get me.

Armchair Astronaut

I bought an IPOD NANO today 4gb and very tasty indeed. I did a bit of downloading of some of the best stuff I have heard on other peoples IPODs on my travels, and I must say that the absolute best for getting into a seriously random state in a hotel room in Naples is Under Mother Bungalow and Wireless - two bands on the Armchair Astronaut label (Brighton England) and they kick out some seriously weird and wonderful stuff, and they are not afraid to let it run its course - half an hour sometimes - Petra had three of their albums but I have downloaded their Podcasts - excellent excellent - I recommend this lot to you wholeheartedly - and even more so if you are lying on the floor with a bottle of JD in a Naples hotel room (unlikely I know - but there is someone doing it ). Go to http://www.armchair-astronaut.com and listen for yourselves - I'm gong to get in contact with this crowd - they are one of unique and I love em !! Their videos are awesome - just go to their video page, you will see what I mean. - Naples seems easier to take now I have some sounds to listen too other than car horns. zoooom!!!

Self portrait and drinking day in Naples

Had a good walk round town today - and have decided to stay in Europe - probably move on to Spain - I do think I can enjoy a long 2 day train trip round the riviera and down to Barcelona. perhaps I will break it with a stop off on Marseilles or Nice. So tahts the plan - start afresh and try another country for a while - hell I have the world in my pocket, I can do what the hell I want. I enjoyed a few bars and drank well today - Iwas in a good mood and met a few touristy types on blokey binges. The Italians on the whole are giving me quite a wide berth at the moment - it must be my eyes and my deep stare I think I am putting on in slightly jarring or boring situations. I guess I feel a bit inane. Slightly aimless and meandering. But my brown locks have grown to quite a tidy length and the vague hippy has surfaced in me. So I drew this self portrait (very loose) . I met up with Frank at 3.30 and had a bit of a row about his antics the other day and I then made up with him and we drank the afternoon away in a trendy moop top type place with lime green furnishings. I'll get you the name of it if I remember.

Plans

Got a few maps - feeling lonely coz now I realise that Petra and April are probably having a good time partying it up in Rome and I have to break out of Naples and head somewhere else - another country - maybe even the USA - or India. Went a bit doolally this afternoon in my room - restraining myself from over indulging the drinking side of my nature so I managed to keep myself down to six bottles of lager. The doolallyness of the afternoon started with a blackout and then fuzzy spotty vision. I watched out of the window as two kids played football near traffic and then wobbled a bit - I started writing poetry again and this is the result for better or worse

Ray Gun zapper
Whippersnapper
Who the hell do you think you are ?
Arse licker
Snot scraper
Who gives you the right to preach to me ?
Bag up your clothes in your
Old kit bag and march
Out of here into the great unknown
You black haired greasy monster wuth shades
Pointed shoes and amphetamine stare.

Look out World
He is approaching
Look Busy you workers
Do your 15 hour day
See if I care
I'm off out of here
And I am away to a tropical paradise
To try my luck at fleeting happiness
Goaded by my particular past

Maybe I should cut down my drinking ?

I feel I am starting to get to the heart of things - dredging up stuff from my past and rethinking my ideas. Taking a fresh approach to my life on the road - Naples has shown me my wilder side and also my more vunerable side. I miss mum and dad - and they got cut off too early by that car smash - so I have felt lost for some time - but now, here - amidst a continuing drinking and benson binge I think I am starting to see the wood for the trees. "I can see clearly now the rain has gone, I can see all obstacles in my way" - and one of them is Frank - the type of guy I fall in with (fall is the right word !) - because they are owest common denominator - i.e. we share the booze and the fags - think of little else - pontificate philosophy briefly and then return to the booze at hand - in fact very little hard core philosophising really goes on - it is mostly where you are going to get your next drink. So I have been thinking about this (obviously aided by a sweet white wine and sparkling water - for freshness) and i think I am going to have to cut down - horror of horrors. But the thing is I need a clearer mind to make some better decisions about the people I hang out with on these epic travels around the globe and also I need to straighten out and move on from the death of my parents. So all in all I think I am taking one small step for mankind - one giant leap for Esten. I will start by restricting myself to two bottles only of this Leibfraumuck. Good start - and I mean to go on as I have started so this should be interesting. Anyone still out there ? yawn ? yawn ? time for bed. (by the way please do read the poem I wrote yesterday that I posted on this ace poetry site, I think it sums me up pretty wellat the moment - by the way whoever Fester Bryan is, what a great name and what a top poet he is, I am a big fan of that geek - he seems to talk some weird shit but it sometimes makes a very vivid sense to me - is it only me ?)

Poetic Nature Bursts Forth

A long long day today with the inside of my head rattling like ball bearing in an oil drum. I stayed in my Hotel Garden Napoli and tried to fend off the blues by writing poetry. The aim was to write something I could be proud enough of to submit to my favorite poetry site for publishing and that is what I achieved !. You can read my epic abstract creation now ! on their front page - I am so glad I wrote it, it has been like giving birth to a mutant. Read it and see what I mean (It is a rich and life changing experience !).

Scotch Italian Style

I have had a bit of an adventure again - it all started with Frank coming round to the Hotel at 6am and yelling at the top of his voice about me coming down and out with him for an early beer at a little strange fruit and veg market down in the South of the city somewhere. I was a bit cheesed off but said yes in the end and ran down to my compadre and we wobbled, cheery enough to this little place. There were 3 Italians in this little bar that had been open all night by the looks of them and we actually drank what they were drinking which was some kind of dodgy Scotch - there was much back slapping and cheerfulness although I could not undestand much. Frank got well into it. After about an hour a guy walks in wearing a very natty suit and the others greet him like a long lost brother and he struts in showing off his shades and shiny black shoes - but then, you see Frank had been a bit worse for wear, well he bumps into Frank and Frank spills his whiskey all down the guy's purple shirt. Now he doesnt like that much and he gets a bit physical, but the others try to calm him down, but he has a really hot temper and at one point he has Frank's long manky hair pulled back , and he gives it a smell, and he gives it a second smell, and then starts laughing - "you stupido - you smell like a girl !" he shouts in quite good English - Frank looks relieved and I look at him - he says he had a wash with this chick's herbal fruit shampoo - which was lucky because I do not think he does that much. The suity Italian then proceeds to buy us a bottle of Scotch and engages us in macho bout of heavy drinking. We stagger out of there - rubbing our poor eyes at around 11am and I only narrowly avoid sleeping in the gutter. Oh well there is always tomorrow.

We're from Barcelona is a catchy tune

Heard a great tune today in a bar off to the back of central Naples near a big church - it was "I'm from Barcelona" or something like that by a bunch of Swedes - very catchy, very cheesey - so I asked about it and it is an album I recommend to all you pop pickers out there in dullsville or excitement city or somewhere inbetween town. Just remembered its 'We're from Barcelona" by I'm From Barcelona - again with the caveat that its something like that - lets not make an issue about it and get into a fight - like I did. Anyway so I have been active and energetic here today - with that happy tune running around my head - so Peace and Love and have a drink on me.
Here is jittery stop go stop go YouTube link for the Barcelona Swedish sound http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OwwbXHNGsjU

Feeling Simple in Naples

I am feeling simple today in my delightful small and nicely named Hotel Garden Napoli. It has a big plus for me, being a city centre kind of guy it is just so well-located in Naples city centre, only 200 strides from the mayhem and canage of Naples central station. another thing that pleases me is that the room is air conditioned and light and modern, so I can Star Trek about without getting too hung up on the ancient history surrounding me, the family feuds that have gone on for centuries and the Roman thing, you know Up Pompeii can get a bit waring, even for a culture buff like me. There are cool (cold maybe) ceramic floors and swedish style pine-wood furnishing. There is a balcony. I can even watch cable television all day - cartoons and the news in Italian. I I get stuck in to a breakfast in the restaurant if I can be bothered to get up and not feeling too sick and hungover - which has not really been the case actualy this last couple of days. I have even knocked back a couple of large Scotch and Cokes (with lemon and ice) in the lobby bar in the early evening (late afternoon - i.e. the dead hours). So all in all it does me fine. I feel fine.

So watched TV today and drank vodka. Smoked 40 Benson. Played poker with myself and looking forward to Petra and April turning up. Frank gave me a wide berth but I did not know what to do with it - no I was glad - the guy got heavy yesterday, I prefer drinking on my own at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow will bring more adventure.

Robot Discussions

Another day in the bustling pizza flipping capital of southern Italy - grandi Napoli. More fish and more Frank, you know "what if everyone except me is a robot - I can only find our by cutting you all open", No Frank, do not go down that route, have another drink Frank and shut up . "But what if I am the robot ? and you are humouring me and amazed at my AI abilities, I will have to cut myself opn to find out". No, again Frank, No, have another drink, in fact here, have the whole bottle, go comatose and wake up tomorrow with another tacke on philosophy. Thats been the kind of day it has been. I need to sleep, I'll tell about this sweet little hotel I have found - my little secret bolthole - I love it - more tomorrow - ciaou.

Frank, Drink, Naples

I like Naples - there is a good vibe here - except of course when I got my wallet nicked this morning by pickpockets who bumped me and before I knew what was happening I'd lost it. But - you will be pleased to here that all I had in it was scrap paper because I am not stupid enough to keep anything valuable in a wallet - what do you think I am ? a complete idiot ?. So, I spent a couple of hours talking to the great Irishman guru, Frank, in a little square - with quite a bit of warm winter sunshine beating on our backs and nothing to do but discuss the meaning of life. That in fact was quite a short discussion - about 3 minutes, because we both agreed that we were not qualified, especially sober. So we discussed the frthcoming Republic of Irelan v San Marino game and expected a trouncing in the six nil area (but I hear that it was a flukey 2-1 - so bad luck little plucky San Marino I know you will win one day soon - 38 losses must come to and end in the end like we must all die and the sun will come up in the morning for the next eight billion years or so and the turn nto a giant white dwarf called Getoff and so on and so on - Plucky little San Marino the underdog. The dog that is under the table feeding off the giants scraps. Frank now trails around with me and of course I tested his drinking capabilities to the full this evening and moved gently on to the red wine at nine - ahhhh wine at nine - feels fine - who wants to dine when there is red wine at nine eh ? do you ? I cannot imagine who you are and whether you drink red wine - please comment back with our favorite wine and I will try to get hold of it and taste it.

Naples !

Ah! you may have been wondering - well I have made it to Naples. Ahead of the young women Petra and April - but I did bump into them briefly in the Palmo Expreso bar and they didnt two finger me or one finger me so I think they meant it when they said that they were already a bit sour on Rome and would follow me in a few days down here in beautiful Napoli. The picyure above is of Naples Fish Market and all sorts of fish abound. I have eaten three fish dinners since I have been here. Red Mullet, Squid and Octopus (sort of fish anyway) and Grilled Sardines. Fabulous !. My head is into gear and I have been cruising around. Today I spent all day in a local workers bar drinking Peroni in the dark and playing table football with a guy with one eye who kept spitting on the floor. I beat him eight time on the trot and he still managed to shake hands after. Long live Naples, long live fish and their longevity oils that help poor hearts so heavily beaten down by booze and fags

Hey ! I am feeling better

Yes - Hey !! I am feeling better than those turkeys with bird flu - I am not dead - I exist ! I am still able to discern who I am and ponder on life's unanswerable questions. So even if I feel half dead still, its got to be better than being delerious without boozing. So, anyway - I feel much better - and so I think I will gather my strength for the Naples fish experience. I spent today ironing my clothes. Now I feel ready. I contacted Bob back in Barking because he had to lend me some money because I had a mix up with bank accounts and now I wish I had sorted all that out properly. But Bob is good like that. I pondered buying a motorbike but resisted. I would only be able to afford some run down old wreck - so sod it I'll walk, bus, train and plane !. So Napoli domani. Pizza on earth - love Esten --- LOL

Rome Fever

I’ve had an attack of a virulent fever, and have been alternately very hot and shaky followed by excruciatingly cold for two days – but I am coming out of it now. A small doctor was summoned by a helpful staff member of the Aberdeen. This bearded medic wore dark round glasses and walked with a limp, he must have been only 5 feet tall and had a rather over ingratiating bedside manner. He carried an old battered black case with all his medicines and stethoscope and stuff. I must say that he did give me a very thorough examination once he had assured himself of my medical insurance (I think I can feel a claim coming on). He came to my room at half past two yesterday afternoon after I had managed to make it downstairs to call for help an hour earlier. Getting back up was a pain with a large American Women I the lift complaining about the smells. After the examination and his prescription he sat looking tired on my small bedside chair and asked me if I was married. I told him I was not and that I probably would not be here if I was and he then told me (in English with a thick Italian accent) that he was going through a messy divorce. His wife had been having an affair with a local shopkeeper and although he did not really mind that much about that, he could handle the deceit and disrespect. He had caught them at it a few weeks ago in his workshop (he makes models of cathedrals) and as he considered this his haven from the bustle of normal life he was particularly hurt. He had not put a single extra gargoyle on Notre Dame since. In my feverish state this story affected me and my dreams – after he had gone I entered an anguished sleep with fornicating gargoyles, hunchbacks and bells, screams and cries. I have now got over it and am ready for action once I have paid my bills.

Recovery Period

Lost a day yesterday, so I have lived one less day this year than all of you. I recovered slightly from my spiking at the Trevi and managed to swap back to my favorite haunt, the hotel Aberdeen on the Via Firenze. Luckily I had nothing to do yesterday - but then do I ever ? So I slept the worst of the hallucegenic madness off and woke up sup at 7am this morning - still seeing things in vivid colours and everything ourple was pink and vice versa. Blackness overcame me at 8am but that was OK because again there was nought to do except thank my luck stars I had not been arrested by the cops, or mugged by a knife gang. So I thanked my lucky stars of which I have none. The day dragged on slowly in my room of drawn curtains and smelly socks. I tried to do some pressups at 13.00 and at 14.00 and managed about 13 both times. Could I live through my apocalypse now and become fit at the same time. I certainly was paranoid about setting foot outside the door. Faint worries of tuba playing angels haunted me and any vaguely tuba like sound disturbed me, fortunately there were not many of these, except the hotel plumbing sometimes sounded off.

My day became cut like a slow motion centrepiece set to the music of dripping taps and tuba plumbing with the Gregorian Monks chanting in my head. I kept sweating and gritting my teeth and thinking I had to do some huge mission somewhere. Then Bob called my new V3 Motorola (nice phone camera) and We had a chat that I think I understood much better than he did, although when he suggested coming out and getting me back I told him to behave and that Sharon would not appreciate leaving her in her state. He sounded like a boring shrew and I was repulsed by him, I could not understand why I had liked him ever, and realised that it was just because we had worked together, and that he ws not my type, the snivelling bore. So in the spirit of honesty I felt duty bound to adhere to I told him and that was the end of that little conversation.

So now to sleep in the midst of uneasy dreams and revalations - thankgod we do not live in facist times and I am free to roam - well at least lie around my room in a state. Tomorrow I head for Naples and some long promised fish.

Spiked at the Trevi Fountain

One moment to tell you about - the moment today at the Trevi fountain whe I cracked - lay down flat and stared at the sky for over five hours. My angels of desperate pleading, Petra and April left me to my own devices and I just stared up at the clouds. Soon I felt a dizzying epiphany and had the distinct impression I was levitating - my muse,the clouds, appeared to part and into the blackness of the blue sky appeared a charlatan angel with a tuba and a light sabre. The image floated above me for what seemed like an eternity and the poor thing struggled with the tuba, in fact so much that the angel became quite flustered. Of course I knew that this was a nasty trick played by the horned females and their flatulent queen Roger Fritti. So here I was drugged with some hallucagen and in serious danger of being arrested, so I tried to recapture some sanity and look as if I was just having a rest. But I was quite far gone. So I hummed my mantra - Omni deus, omni deus, omni deus and the next time I looked at my watch it was 6.15 in the evening and I felt quite a washout. I was helped to my feet by a group of Austrian Tourists. Staggered back to my hotel and drank two bottles of Chianti to straighten out and fell asleep.

Via Del Corso pad incident

Found Petra and April staying at a groovy chap's Centre of city Pad on the top floor of a tall building on Via Del Corso. This Groovy Chap is called Roger Fritti and he is American Italian and I think he has managed to bed both these bruisers They all seem chummy as hell like Rita Bob and Sue and they are sharing one big in joke that I am out of. So I sit in this chic all white with black gizmos apartment and ask if I can use the Jacuzzi. Roger says I ca but when I do all I can hear is giggling and laughing nd guffaws and I think sod this so I storm into his fluffy lounge and see them all there drinking champagne and draping themselves over each oher and Roger like the harlots that they really are. I stammer something incoherent about going to Naples and eating fsh and they just laugh some more. Petra then lays inro me about whether i am over my lakeside visions, and April snorts and calls me an old bag man. I realise they are drunk, so I request some alcohol and Roger calls me a dear chap and of course you can "darling" and so I steam into some Vodka Breeze. We all go out on a balcony and I feel better when I join in ranting to the breeze, but that is quickly dampened by April telling me quietly to sod off. I refuse and put on a big King Lear act and betray my pompousness and then face them off - "Why are you being so horrible to me ?" that is the burning question - and then they both look at me with frightening intensity "Because we have been up for 72 hours on pure amphetamine sulphate and champagne and we need to pick on you " says Petra - "Oh I see" I say - that explains it. Roger waddles over with a glass and says - come on old chap - be a sport and get your todger out - and I realise he is gay and I must have lokked mortified and the girls laugh and we all play chess for 3 hours.

Stuck in Rome again

Got a little stuck here, in a groove that is of my own making. Lack of sleep and lack of luck have conspired to lead me up several garden paths. I have nbeen to two parties today - daytime and evening drinks dos that were a bit dossy. I slept on a big green couch at one and then did a bit of dancing (and prancing) at the other. I split my Jeans, but met several nice people. Talked pidgeon Italian - Si Senora, and did my ompersonation of the Duchess of York. I bit off more than I could chew with a screaming Harpie called Jasmine and she gave me a headache - finally - when she tried to whisper a sweet nothing in my ear - got slapped in the back by Alfredo and then shouted an ocsenity right into my lug hole. So I need some sleep - which is what I will get. On my own. Old lonesome me. I'm at a hotel called Hotel Rollo and it is spartan but does have beds !

So I will rest my weary head.

Big nose for deer on heat

Guess what ? I'm back in Rome - no mobile phone working - looking for Petra an April so that we can go to Naples. I bumped into Buddy, an american poker player at an all night rave-poker party and he fleeced me for 1000 euros. But we get on well and got mighty drunk together (he paid !). So Golden eyes (Petra) and Big Balls (April) are proving elusive but I can smell their hot musty trail like the scent of doe deer on heat I the mighty stag can track them down and pull them into my clutches (I wish). So I must get my noseonto the case right now. Ciaou.

Lakeside Picnic wrapped in Blanket

Oh god, its like organised mayhem rattling around my head like cocaine running around my brain, but fuelled by olives and pesto. You may have guessed that the wonders of my recent lakeside existence here have kept me here in Bracciano. I wrapped up a tasty Italian picnic of Ciabatta and sheese, olives, huge big tomatoes and lashhings of wine (red) and spent the day huddled in the hotel blanket (i do not think they wil mind) down by the lakeside watching the water idly lapping and laughing at cyclists. Inner turmoil abated momentarily and I switched into a transcendental mode almost yogic flying at one point and I felt very very Indian and mystical. I adopted a painful lotus position and was accosted by a dear old lady who seemed to think I ws in some kind of trouble. I managed to persuade her that nothing dangerous or untoward was happening, and that she may have been troubled by being in such close proximity to the manifestation of inner peace in a man, which by all accounts is quite a strong experience. But she did look quite experienced and no doubt she has had the inner peace of a man or two in her time, you know these Italian Women when they get away from Mama and Papa and all that shouting. Of course half of them have to shin down the nunnery drainpipe to get to the action but that probably gives it an exciting edge, dont you think ?

So, anyways, I am feeeling so much better now I decided just to delay the Naples Fish experience and anyway, Its my world ad its my journey, inner and outer, spiritual and physical, so stuff the rest of you I am going to take my inner peace when I can get it, and if it happens to be at the Bracciano lakeside in January in a blanket then so be it. Love and Karma to all of you

Coffee, Coffee and More Coffee (and lots of eggs)

No alcohol today (except 3 beers at lunchtime) - but lots of coffee at the Bracciano cafes. Also quite a few eggs - so good job no-one is too close to me today. I have delayed Naples and the fish supper (me playing Jesus with Petra and April as the disciples and maybe a stray cat as Judas, but then the location would be wrong, so perhaps it will just be a straightforward fish meal at a restaurant of our choosing at the time of our choosing in Naples - Naples style. But anyway, I am still here into my Grey Period, out of the black and into the Grey. That is like the men in suits, I scurry around doing my thing occasionally worrying that there ought to be more to life or travelling than just this, but not being THAT bothered by it.

So the Grey Period eh ? what does that all mean - I am in a non colourful segment of the journey - everything does seem the colour of the third way, grey and in between Black and White. But, Still, I am eating eggs and lots of coffee to keep me at it. What it is I do not yet pretend to fathom, but I do know that although I have made no connections with Italians in this fine town (and the last Italian I did hook up with was Francesco, and he seemed keen in the end to put a line betweeen us, maybe we did overstay our welcome, but I think he will look back at those days with a fond memory, if he can still remember after all that whisky) I am getting happier here now and the slope is upwards but I am climbing it gently without a rope.

So, when do I leave - when do I wrench myself away from this pretty town ?, host to both my Black and my Grey periods - well I think may be tomorrow. That is if I can get some sleep after all this coffee !! Good Night and sweet dreams.

We will be heading for Naples to eat fish I think

I have certainly entered my black period - or even my dark blue period. I have told Petra and April to go away to somewhere else for a while while I contemplate here in Bracciano and then maybe we can all catch a train to Naples to eat fish, when I am feeling better. The wind feels like it is going right through my bones and I am now holed up in a small hotel on the outskirts with a sketch pad and my feelings spewing out of me into this small room. I hated to think what might have happened if P and A had stayed around so they have agreed to go back to Rome on a coach and try and gatecrash some decent parties. I sit here in the half light and look at the stars. The cream and strawberries have gone from my life and all I am left with is rancid butter. But hey, it could be worse, I could be in Iraq. I need to talk myself round to a better frame of mind and so need to encapsulate the problem. The problem is I am travelling around very ill equipped to mangae on ny own in Europe, so I fall prey to whoever I hook up with which is very few people indeed - really only Petra and I suppose April although the amount of sensible conversations I have had with her are very few. I did discuss with her the religious state of Italy and wondered if she beleived in the almighty big god but she said no. I agreed with her but said you could not rule anything out including that we were all the result of an experiment by Simon Manicure - a creature 100,000 light years tall, made of compressed hydrogen and carbon flakes who walked on several universes at once bouncing like on a trampoline. April went off to brush a tooth or two and we didnt speak on the subject again.

So, anyway, here in my room - I eat some bread and mope. Then a bright spark appears - and then I fall asleep. Then I wake up around 7am and go for a long walk by the lake and things get clerer. I decide that I will go to Naples. But first to run a bit, then do some sit ups, hen I do some Tai Chi, then do some pressups. Then I go to a bar for soe very strong coffee and a brandy (half past eight in the morning - tastes great). Then I do more press ups and then call Petra on her new mobile but cannot get through. I do not tink she has activated it yet, the fool. So anyway - Naples here we come - but first more sleep.

Onwards and upwards to the south.

Oh my lord - let there be light

He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
Let him in constancy follow the Master.
There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent
His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round with dismal stories
Do but themselves confound - his strength the more is.
No foes shall stay his might; though he with giants fight,
He will make good his right to be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend us with Thy Spirit,
We know we at the end, shall life inherit.
Then fancies flee away! I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim.

Got into a spot of black mist in the old head as Terry Wogan would say - vile spitting language of the devil came out of my decrepid little mouth all day - wash my mouth out with imperial leather. Petra took the brunt, and April fared little better, I could see no redeeming features in anyone let alone me. The clothes they wore were now filthy - we had been bumming around in the same gear for some time - we all needed a wash - Our personalities seemed retarded and incapable of flying above even the lowest of drizzly clouds. No jokes, no intellectual discussion on anything, no appreciation of the wonderful country we are in and the culture and art and people of this fine land that has brought us lambrettas, pasta the rennaissance, the mona lisa, Sophia Loren, Fellini, Pesto and Chianti Ahhhh Chianti, and Juventus football club. Also, not forgetting sociable types likes Francesco.

Of course I remain wholeheartedly and without doubt in my usual existential frame, but the universe does contain the John Bunyan Hymn He who would valiant be and it now contains it in a travellers blog, and I am sure John Bunyan dod not envisage that when he wrote it in 1684.

I like the tine, and in a way I am a pilgrim, following my twin masters, fate and chance. They have led me here to this lovely lake in winter with two females who I have foun very annoying today - Petra kept shaking her head and marching around saying she was bored which got extremely bad and April smoked 30 Benson.

Still there is always tomorrow.

A day of meditation and high wind

Quite a blowy day - wind was up but my sails are high. I sat for several hours by the lakeside on a red blanket in my full Emo regalia and meditated on my good fortune. I thougt about where I may venture this next few weeks and I have several options - where would you suggest - you traveller people ? shall I go East to places like Slovenia and Slovakia and Croatia, Bulgaria, Poland, Romania and Russia or shall I take a plunge towards Africa - I think these are my two big choices. So any ideas you have then let me know at anxx@hotmail.co.uk or post a comment. I will be bumming around Italy for a bit longer so relax you do not have to pull your fingers out too abruptly.

Petra went into Bracciano and befriended a few hippies and bought 20 Benson and Hedges. April went on a run ! she really is not fit enough to do that - the coughing queen ! But she did manage a mile or so in her tartan skirt and Doc Martins.

I wrote to Grandpa Walker and asked for some money - I do not really need it but he likes to give me a bit of cash every now and then and I will be able to treat the girls to Champagne and Chocolates if he coughs up the usual £500. Thats a lot of Euros and I aint going to turn it down. I also had time in my busy sitting schedule to get up and catch a bus - I went to a village and then came back - nothing to report there except I did manage to buy some rather exquisite red wine called Bullo that fizzes in the tongue but is not fizzy ( got 5 bottles).

I did twenty press ups and 30 sit ups then smoked 5 Benson and drank a bottle of Bullo - but I will not go Bridget Jones on you and do this count every day, but I may do it sometimes to fill you in on the deatils, so that you get a more rounded picture of this crazy adventure.

Listened to hip hop blasting out of this geezers car at the lakeside he was pumping his upper body to the heavy heavy beat and I moved a bit closer to hear - but we never spoke.

Petra, April and I have decided to eat out tonight - I want a big mega Pizza but the ladies want vegetarian pasta - I'm sure we can accomodate that here.

Lago di Bracciano at last

Finally here we are at the lake - our thoughts take on peaceful manderings and the rippling waters soothe our tired feet and brains. The light is fantastic here in January - a real Mediterranean winter sun and the fog in my frontal lobes feels like it is lifting - no more Blue Jay Way - more like Good Day Sunshine. Petra has increased her self esteem and in the eyes of her travelling companions seems much more at one with her inner idiot. She has nurtured up some food - twice today - including tins of sardines and rustic loaves. April has sung us sweet melodies and played charades - again twice. We are now in a reverie - here in Bracciano - and luvkily technology exists here or I'd be done for. I have had a shave and eaten some biscuits - listened to The Sound Of Music (yuck) on a teenager's Ipod at a busstop - he was scared !

So little by little we are shedding the city blues and going rustic on ourselves - lie elves and pixies we have chased through fields and behaved quite mad really. Now to find a room and relax - I think we'll get a B&B or hotel room tonight and look at tomoorow with new rose tinted glasses. In the meantime here is to you and your friends - A big hearty slurp of Chianti - ahhh! dont you wish you were here ?

Au Revoir ...

One more cup of coffee

God - out of breath - its been a breathless day and last night too. More whisky with Francesco in his Modern House and hi Modern way and hi Modern love for April - which around half past two he declared to a laughing April with Petra behind him making funny faces. But that brushed over quick once April made it clar that a shag was out of the question and he sobered up enoug to pour another drink. We listened to really loud - I mean seriously loud music from up and coming upstart from Italy who nobody has heard of - Colin Danger - (see picture) and he thrashes a mean rock guitar - it is like Rock Ska played at 160bpm and slightly mincey sweet lyrics about wool, babies, sheep, lambs, milk and so on but sung in a really high pitch rock squeal - very avant garde and not to everyones taste, but I must say that what carries it through is Danger's eye for the cripplingly good melody - he really is a bit of a McCartney at heart (not a Lennon I fear) and the whole soup really mushes up into someting beyond interesting. Francesco has a demo of the guy and we all listened to it twice through. Then Bed. Breakfast - croissants and an evil coffee around midday and then hobbled onto the road. Back on the road - part two.

I think we are still headig roughly in the direction of Bracciano and the Lago (lake) and we made a good pace to begin with - petra has a bit of a limp but she is basically OK if a bit rough around the edges. She is a good sort and has madea tight bond with young Tarten April who sang us a Moon Garden song before supper.

We eyed up enviously people with tents. That looks like a good idea - camping - you can get quite lightweight tents. There are not many campers around at this time of year butwe have seen a couple. Anyways - we are paying tonight - a small hotel and the bill will be on me - so I get te bed HA HA.

Lazy day in an Italian's Home

Still here at Francesco's house - I think he may be geting a bit uppity now so the time may be nearing when we have to leave. Listened to a great album by Juana Molina called Tres Cosas which I do not think is her new one - it a floaty gentleness in a looped swishing guitary kind of way and Francesco is a big fan - he tells me she is from Argentina. Petra cannot stand this kind of nu folk stuff and wants to hear something heavier like Slip Knot or even ACDC - I suggested some headbanging to Status Quo but Francesco was unable to oblige because his collection does not extend into that corner of the rock ouvre and I do not blame him, although it is not for me to blame him for anything because he is playing the gentle host and that is good enough for me. not enough for some pre menstrual women though which includes both Petra and April who seem to have switched off Francesco and are now itching to get back on the road. Francesco looks a bit sad today, he has not gone in to work, phoned in sick and did a lot of lolling around - occasionaly commenting on things like april's tarten skirt and stuff like that, April seems to be sick of the attention and is expecting him to make a grab for her anytime soon. Petra says that Francesco is a bit of broken man and we should leave him to stew. I say he is a good friendly guy and he wants us to stay one more day so that is hat we shall do. Off tomorrow I expect - bu first, here is a scan of a painting I did of Francesco for him to hang:

Good fortune comes our way ...

Day 3 of the walk to end all walks - and we have ended up in the housing estate of a small hamlet called I think Iglitti, and its the first set of modern houses we have seen for over 24 hours, I am sitting at the computer of Mr Francesco Vitelli, a nice guy who April chatted up in a cafe and we have all been invited back for snacks and Scotch. He likes Single Malt and so do we all. He is around 45 years old, keen on art and a professor type - he works in the local Adult Education College and speaks brilliant English. We sit round and char about America, Baseball and George W Bush - he hates the American Idiotti and so do we all. The carrot cake and parmesann Spaghetti bake were fabulous and April seems mildy besotted with him once he has shoown off his cooking skills and revealed that his wife is dead (she died of cancer 3 years ago). So April is chatting away - getting her Tarten skirt cleaned and offering advice on getting out more. Petra sulks and drinks copious amounts of Scotch - but beyond that she behaves herself - for Petra, she can see this is a good resting place for our weary legs. Francesco took us all out in his car to play table football at a friends house but his friend was out so we came back and watched him put up a small brick wall in his garden (it had fallen down and he sems quite handy with cement). Petra plucks up the courage to ask if we can kip the night and he is all too happy - perhaps he sees a window of opportunity with April - so we have landed ourselves quite a little Bed and Breakfast (I hope he can rouse some breakfast) and for no money - wow pretty good.

So I will slurp another single malt and toast our good fortune.

April Fool in January

April is turning out to be a strange walking companion. We dossed in a cold B&B in a small village and April sleeps on the floor. She talks in her sleep - All "whattya and whyya and gettofff". When we get up she makes a big song and dance about brushing her teeth and in the end I let her use my Oral B. Then there is a bit of scene when we finally get on the road - the beautiful Petra is grouchy sombrero wearer today not chatty and snarling. April looks a bit goofy and her glasses are jet black and she often skips. The tarten skirt she is wearing gets seriously muddy and I laugh a lot when she goes a full spinnin top into a mega puddle. Petra snarls some more and tromps off offering no help. So that leaves me to help the poor April sod out of her mess.

Walking gets pretty boring along straight roads with traffic so we veer off into country where almost immediately we meet a man with no teeth who trys to tell us something but we cannot understand a word he is saying so we run off. I decide that here would be a nice place to own a Nano Ipod so I could dift off listening to Bernard Fanning or Amy Winehouse - you know what I mean - this deafening silence from Petra is getting to me. So at the next village the wine shop is most open thank god and we resort to Chianti and olives with bread rolls and goats cheese. The mood increases in the right direction towards something vaguely resembling happy and stays that way for a couple of hours, when we then romp in some hay and fall asleep. I am as lucky as a king - like Henry the Big 8th. Gor Blimey guvnor I am having a good walk in Italy ...

Out on the road with no Segway

Ok so the marching shoes are now right on (no segway unfortunately - they look fun !) - YES Yes we are walking. We jumped on a local train out of Rome and we are heading for some hills somewhere - and we are heading slowly for lago di bracciano and Bracciano itself. For no particular reason except that is what I stabbed my finger on that spot while blindfolded - ahhh the luxury of no particular place to go. The weather was actually a tinge chilly but then I have been with Petra in the great outdoors. Met a tramp who gave us a euro ! Met and Englishman and his wife who were going to see there son play Hockey in Naples, and then a young wild child called April. She is screwed up and drunk and zapped out and she has tagged along. We have argued about food and stealing and things like that - but who cares we are on the road - long live the road ...

One more Day in the traffic hell hole

So, Petra is still massaging Gaberdines lower back - if you ask me that Gabber has not slouched enough in her life - they say you should slouch to avoid back pain now - and she is always pert and upright - quite nice eyes and she always wears brown - Brown leather, brown wool and even brown shoes and socks - there is occasionally the sight of green and - as Gaberdine is looking over my shoulder with a glass of whiskey in her hand and frowning at me - I guess I do have to say that she has some yellow on (shirt).

I took several cod liver oil tablets and some vitamin C and then went out but the traffic did my head in - and I was angry with Petra because she is keeping me here while I am so desperate to get out into the countryside - its like an itch I cannot scratch.

So tomorrow now - I have told Petra that Gaberdone's back is not as important as my sanity - but she said Piss off you English man.

I watched someItalian TV but could make little sense of it - I dredged the barrel of my innermost resources and ventured out to buy some pasta and cooked it with some grated cheese and a piece of garlic - mmmm nice.

Day in Bed

So much for the hills - I augmented my hours under the lumpy duvet today - could not get up with my shrunken brain rattling against my steel skull. Still, the beuaty of bumming round the planet is that time can stand still, and it is possible to trash the day with a hair of he dog and a desperate attempt to feel human. So technically still in Rome - BUT NOT FOR LONG - Petra is still keen - so we'll be off once she has sorted out Gaberdine's back which is a bit painful and Petra has a strong hand.

Day one of walk out of Rome

At last - I'm out of the big city and on the road - I guess this is what it was always going to be about and compared to the UK its really mild - only about 14 degrees Celcius and sunny ! In early January I really cannot complain at that. So I got my walking shoes on and my Rucksack on my back and set off this morning for the metaphorical hills - or real hills maybe - but I do not want to trudge up too many hills, they can be steep you know. So, anyway, I set off and had a couple of false starts because I forgot my passport was in reception and then needed to buy some decent socks. But in the end I was on the strada heading North. And then who should I meet, practically bumping her into a busy street with my clodhopper rucksack - It was Petra ! Yes that young lushy - we exchanged some rude pleasatries and then kind of hugged, well we were a little bit nervous of each other, but I could detect that she was curious to see me in this garb heading for the hills, so I suggested that she tag along for the crack. But she said she had a new boyfriend, a snazzy Italian in a red sports car who happened to be just a block away and heading for a redezvous any second and that he was the jealous type with a violent streak. She did add that yes she would like to tag along but it was a bit difficult right now. She was actuallty pleased to see me and I wondered if this Italian was perhaps just a little too up market for her and the pressure was getting to her, maybe she could do with a bit of old Esten relaxation. So I suggested that if she thought about it for a bit why didnt she meet me at the bar Oglio over the road in two hours. I'd wait and she couldeither say a proper goodbye or join me on my great expedition hillwardor at least at some angles beyond the horizontal. She agreed so I retired to my favorite seat and hit the beers.

Two hours later I was wedged between a fat businessman and a well dressed mother and her two screaming brats, bunches of flowers and a full scale argument between a blue overalled worker and a roughouse mafioso type (well not really, but he had a beard and sunglasses). I'd had 11 beers (small) and then in trips Petra looking keen and excited - She has left herRed Penis driver and has elected after some deliberation to join me for a few days to get out of Rome and see the countryside. I felt honouredand touced (touched with madness probably) so I staggered to my feet and she helped me along for a bit (laughing thank god) while I got my walking legs back and sang a few Pogues numbers.

So - as you can imagine we only got as far as a bench - adn she go a bottle of wine and it looks like we are staying at Gaberdines place (a freind of Petra with one ear and she smells of Petuli oil and greens). She has lived in Rome for many years - Iam writing this on her computer and then I am going to crash with the sound of Petra gving Gaberdine analmighty tough massage. One of Petra's Turkish Specials. Crash and now gone gooooooodnight !!

Sleeing Better Soon !

So, yes, I am glad to be on extended holiday out of the UK and in Rome as it happens, and yes i know I decided to take to the hills, but it did not happen today. It will happen soon, but Pizza and a lot of French Cabernet got the better of me, so there has been a minor delay. So instead of regaling you with countryside adventures here is a poem:









The wanderlust grips me


Like a feverish fist


I must take to the hills


Above the lowland mist





I want to see the long view


Stretching out ahead


To get a clearer take on things


And sleep sounder in my bed

Now backe to the Cabernet and cheers my dears - here is to not working - do not work unless you have to or you want to or you cannot think of anything else to do, but then I tink we can all think of something better than working - so unwind ....

A think in Rome

Today has been a day of great self reflection and thougt. Not gone anywhere, just lolled around thinking about death and the importance of getting on and doing stuff. Luigi has turned out to be a one day friend, but all the same, meeting him at the ball bearing factory may have turned out to be one of the most important events of this trip so far. You see, I think I have been directionless in so many ways (or directions I guess) and I need to start seriously steering in earnest but with a smile on my face - Yes I am that orphan hero who is free to surf life's crest. So in the spirit of my new found confidence I have decided to move on from Rome and head for thie hills - well what hills ? well I'm not sure - so I will fill you in when I know ! In the meantime enjoy celebrity big brother and I think that Leo Sayer will win !! (I phoned Bob after a lon long gap and he was angry at first because I hadnt phoned but then he was better and told me all about Donny Tourettes leaving and the servant thing (sorry if you have no idea what I am talking about) - anyway Sharon is still pregant and Bob seems OK but bored.
So goodbye Rome tomorrow !! Ciaou

Ostia Antica is great

I had a great time today at the ruins of Ostia Antica (yes more Ancient Monument moments), on the outskirts of Rome, and they captivated me. I roamed the ruins, poking into passageways draped with amazing ivy, lonely rooms and clambered over multiple fallen columns.

Ostia Antica was the ancient port of Rome and has hundreds of two thousand year-old buildings spread over hundreds of hectares and I loved it to bits. Here I could fantasise about the Roman army and the legions, the Roman life and the grapes and chaises longues. I met an American from Seattle who even claims that this place tops Pompeii, you know, that city frozen in time by the volcanic ash Vesuvius blast around 79 A.D. He rexkons it gets too crowded and this is the one to visit for a bit of peace and I wholeheartedly agree although I have never been to Pompeii so should not really comment, as my Mother would have said, but she is dead and so cannot stick her oar in and I am making my life interesting as a result even though I would still say I miss her and her curly mop top.

It only took half and hour to get out of Rome on a train form Porto San Paolo station to Ostia Antica (it is only 16 miles south west of Rome) and when I got there I immediately fell in love with the place – oooooh heh I though get a load of that.

I ambled and shuffled (with my hip flask of Sambuca) along the one mile Decumanus Maximus, the city's main road. There are apparently paving stones which still bear the grooves worn by ancient carts but I was meandering in my mind at the time and looking at some pretty girls near a bare-chested statue. I also did a bit of veering off into side streets lined with the brick remains of houses, warehouses, shops and the temple forum.

What I liked was this is the normal Roman world, yes I grandly thought about big Roman armies and centurions, but this place is a bit more like a Roman Barking. Go if you getthe chance, but if you are never going to visit Rome and you know that in your heart of hearts then forget it .

All that touristy stuff got me thirsty and when back in Rome I hit a bar and drank 16 beers. I had an argument with someone who looked like a Don and only got worried afterwards. I could not find my way home so slept on a park bench which was rough but sobering until 11.00 and then got a cab back. Bliss – nice bubble bath and bed. Sleep.
More info on Osyia Antica here: http://www.ostia-antica.org

Vow to Wow

Went to a small house on the outskirts of Rome today for a coffee with Luigi. He's a guy I met in the ball bearing factory tour this morning and I got to falling in to conversation with him because his English is good. His mother and Father are dead like mine but both of us have not lived up to the boys own possibilities this commonly throws up in Fiction. With the dreaded boring parents out of the way the story of the young hero's life can take full flight and the Author's fancy can be tickled at every turn of the page. Luigi and I have taken the plainer more civil route in our life stories so far, something we vowed to change forthwith. So sipping my coffee an eating nice little chocolate biscuits in his farm like little shack we hatched a plan to make life, or maybe the next 24 hours a little more interesting. This then involve getting into his little Fiat and driving around honking a lot, normal behaviour for Italians. We then went to his friends house, Carmel, but she was out. So we went back aand watched some TV. We then vowed again and went to a club. The music was Euro beat and Garage retro with some very old school and House clubz numbers interspersed with some heavy dub and grunge - nice ! I did dance to the elastic fantastic for a quarter of an hour and Luigi disappeared. I staggered back to the Aberdeen at 10.15 and conked out.

Writing in Rome like a proper writer !

After my ramblings round the Colosseum yesterday I have got sharp pains in my right knee, it feels like something is floating around in it and I dread to think I might need keyhole surgery. At least I did not turn into butter like that Tiger did running round that tree, and I now have holed up here in the wonderful "Aberdeen" and have decided to be a writer for a day. You know, the world needs some quirky detective nonsense and that is what I have decided to deliver, although it has come out much more quirky than detective but who cares - Idont and I dont think you do too:

Here is a snippet:

It was no quite dreary oddity for Buzby Baxter, of Smith Street, to run in over us of a narrow peaceful twilight , and his hauntings were vague to Master Humphries, for they allowed him with difficulty to stay with it, with all that was mustering on at the pig house. In batting back for the visions which Baxter would donate, Humphries was always primed and eager to lend an ear with excited enthusiasm to the minor bits of any bag of bones over which the finder of dark thoughts was occupied completely, and was able some with clock tickers maybe, without any erect static, to give some tint or idea that works were drawn from his own huge information for learning and doubt.
On this tiny narrow peaceful twilight , Baxter had spoken of the weather and the visions papers. Then he had dropped like a stone silent, puffing thoughtfully at his cigar. Humphries gurned keenly at him.
"Any oddity remarkable on angle?" he asked.
"Oh, no, Buzby Humphries – no oddity quite tiny."
"Then betray me around it."
Baxter chuckled loudly.
"Well, Buzby Humphries, there is no use raising forearm against that there is some oddity on my brain. And yet it is such a drunken market trade, that I stuttered shyly to annoy you around it. On the other angle, although it is nothing, it is certainly apparently gay, and I know that you have a sizzle for all that is out of the long grass. But, in my mind set, it comes more in Mrs Bakerloo’s fence than ours."
"Rancid butter?" said I.
"Crazy Horses, anyhow. And a gay Crazy Horses, too. You wouldn't contemplate there was a random person living at this clock ticker of eventide who had such a embarrassment of Arthur the Only that he would smash into a thousand pieces any self image of him that he could see."
Humphries drowned back in his rotating stool.
"That's no market trade of mine," said he.
"Absolutely. That's what I said. But then, when the he-man offers stealing and being bad in order to smash into a thousand pieces self images which are not his own, that donates it away from the Mrs and on to the pig he-man."
Humphries sat up again.
"Stealing and being bad! This is more vaguely OK. Let me get in tune with the minor bits."
Baxter took out his important sketch pad and refreshed his flash backs from its sheets.
"The only bag of bones shouted was four eventides ago," said he. "It was at the supermarket of Baby Lake, who has a lovely spot for the giving of graven images and trumpets in the Gasporty Road. The lonely helper had left the edge of the supermarket for an flash, when he got in tune with a crash, and charging full pelt in he found a plasticine torso of Arthur, which appeared with a small handful other works of art over the counter, lying shivered into fragments. He rushed out into the road, but, although a small handful of people with nowhere to go declared that they had seen in a blurry way a he-man run out of the supermarket, he could neither see a random person nor could he find any means of summing up the bitch. It appeared to the ordinary man to be one of those unthought out acts of Buffoonery which occur from clock ticker to clock ticker, and it was shouted to the lady on the drums as such. The plasticine corset was not worth more than a few thousand pounds, and the whole dispute appeared to be too nurseryschool for any tiny investigation.

I am still developing my style - where have I nicked that style from folks - answers on a postcard!

Must dash

Round and Round the Colosseum We Go

I walked round and round the Roman Colosseum today, so much and so fast I turned into butter - no only kidding - but it was obsessive. I know some nooks and crannies of that place now that a lot of people do not. Of course I thought about being thrown to the lions and what that might have felt like, but mainly I dwelled on this trip I was on and the past few days - those hazy days back in Athens which seem so far away now. That crazy afternoon in the hotel room when I thought someone had spiked my drink with LSD and meeting Petra. Ancient monument moments are becoming a theme, like the strange feelings I had at the Acropolis, and now the demented rambling round the Colosseum - I seem drawn psychologically to their ancient/ famous - iconic status which feeds into my brain and maybe taps into shared memory. Today it used up 4 hours of my precious time and was alot more than mindless tourism - it was an attempt through boring walking, to get to some core of reason that could shimmer through the walls of the Colosseum and enter into my very being. My feet ached and I was sweating yesterdays final alcohol consumption out in dizzy circular route round and round - images of stella bottles, very like the image I prepared for you kind groovy hipsters above, appeared to me and I moaned and ranted to myself (luckily I did keep this mainly to myself) but I kept on and on round and round. At one point I thought I saw Petra there in front of me and I talked to her slowly - but all I got back was the cackling of an old woman. At the end of the four hours (at around 17:15 I swayed a bit then wandered off in any direction. Some hours later I found my way back to the Aberdeen (lovely home from home) and lay for a while before venturing out to the loacl Internetti Cafe.

Now as I write this I wonder what I have acheived today, and I think it is rather a lot. I have not touched a drop of alcohol and I am still alive. Think before you Drink! because you do not think straight when pissed !

Having just relieved myself of a bladder full of coffee I now feel quite sprightly and ready for a night of heavy action - but NO - that will be difficult on elderflower presse and red bull - I'll let you vagrant flower children know how I get on - probably I cave in on the first toke of a hashish pipe at some Roman Orgy. Anyway - must be off, got to dash, there is a Swede on my shoulder itching to get my seat - so A Bientot !.

Into the Abyss

So, yes, anyway I do have, still a bit of a hangover from last night. And , yes, I did keep on seeing what I thought was Petra all over as I was whiked by a party of new found Jesuit buddies on a whistlestop tour of some of Romes more wicked parties last night. It must have been seven or eight and my stamina was good. I met these guys on the corner as they looked for a flagpole to hoist their weird petard and was then withem all night. There was Frankie, an American from Chicago and Johnnie a guy from Liverpool and James an Irishman who could melt the heart of any female within ten feet. We joked about Reindeer and chatted up countless elder women and the odd male - -even though we could hardly speak a word of the native Italian and got shouted at many times. The evening was rich with humour and I lost my trousers near a fountain. The religous side of my nature never surfaced and there were numerous cats to stroke, dogs to woof at but no traffic cones. I am now going to bed early and am ready for the next days vigour.

A charming man gave me a pipe - and the doctor I met at 3am said I was lucky to still be alive given the amount he guessed I had had to drink. I say the world is lucky - and tomorrow I pack it all in because I am going on a self inflicted resolution frenzy - no drinking ! Well how about that ?

So - here we go - into the abyss - see you on the other side...........

Felice Anno Nuovo - Happy New Year you Bastards !

Felice Anno Nuovo - Huh ! didnt think I could speak the lingo then eh !? weel, sorry split me pants - spilt me wine I mean Felice, goddam Happy Anno yearo mateys. And I love you all - more champagne and where is that ice ? The MUSIC is too loud - go home ! have you not got what they refer to as a residence to cram up in and rest your weary heads - HAPPY NEW YEAR from ROME !! and I will stay - Goodnight

I ascend the Aventine hill

Ahhhh ! silent streets of Rome - brown bag with Sabuca, Olives 3 beers and some cherries. (Oh I waish I could find a Belgian fruit beer, I have a peculiar craving !) - not the new streets required by our hussling modern age, but the isolated lonely streets which still retain some flavour of the past. A past I like to think I can find by wandering for hours in my new EMO clothes and attitude. There is no noise and bustle, just quiet and solitude and raw emotion on my part - not necessarily anyone else walking around. Roads like Clivo dei Publici and Clivo di Rocca Savella - Clivo means slope by the way, and these two both ascend the Aventine hill (see my picture - a representation of what my day looked like after too much Sambuca and beer and olives and cherries - but no Belgian fruit beer worst luck).

In the 18th century this Aventine area belonged to monasteries and rich families (like the Goldman Sachs bonus receivers of yesteryear) and the narrow street was flanked by low walls interrupted by fine gates and it still looks and feels old as the hills (and it is a hill) ! So I slouch around Clivo di Rocca Savella which was for centuries the main access to the Aventine and was an early important street of Rome because apparently a pope, a member of the Savelli family, preferred to hold the papal court in the family fortress at the top of the street . This street is open only in day time so I cannot slouch through it at night.

I've done much walking - ready to drop into a stupour - that is all I can manage today - Viva Rome - I will stay here for a few more days - now to sleep - but first one more Sambuca and OH Oh OH OH

Tomorrow is New years eve and I intend to have one heck of a day - I suggest you do to

Ciaou for now

Esten xxx

New low so decide to go EMO indie

I am feeling emotional since Petra left and I guess that is why I think I also need an emotional change to my wardrobe. So I am steeling myself to get some Italian hair dye, or get hair dye in an Italian shop more likely in this Global village and get myself dyed-black hair (cut short by yours truly because I will not pay a hairdresser and I cannot speak good enough Italian) . I will use gel to go spikey in the back and keep the overall look slightly greasy. I will be working on the guts to get piercings - quite a few I think. And I will be wearing beads and assorted jewelry. I do not need glasses but I fancy some thick black frames around my eyes so I will try to find a pair with straight glass - or may be its like Boots in England and I can get a really weak pair of reading glasses. I will wear my faded blue and grey T-shirt with the words "CRANK" and "SLUT" on it, that I got at Barking Red Cross, and my dark denim jean jacket. I will sport a messenger bag (when I find one) and blag some badges form somewhere to make it look like I go to loads of gigs and happenings (I suppose they will have to be mainly Italian !). Oh and my trousers will be ball breaking tight ! and my shoes, of course my Blue converse swankies with the acrylic purple paint splash on the left one that I cannot get off.

Pretty neat eh ?

I like Rome by the way - have meandered sadly through these crazy streets and eaten too much Pasta - drunk chianti many a time and generally enjoyed being melancholy.

Petra leaves me after all day Spongebob session

Phew ! - All day yesterday was spent by me and Petra watching Spongebob Squarepants in Italian back to back on cable !. I quite enjoyed just vegetating to that while young Italian boys and girls tripped into the TV room at the Hotel Aberdeen where we are staying and two had very nasty falls. One little girl, Carlotta, was carrying a fruit bowl with some particularly nice fruit - satsumas and apples and things, then that Krab man with the restaurant the krusty crab (not krusty the clown - thats the simpsons, what is it with this krusty thing anyway - discuss !) makes some kind of loud noise because he is going to lose all his money and Carlotta trips up and the fruit goes flying. She got a nasty gash on her knee and I got an apple - they were not meant for us - so I did OK but she had to be plastered up. Talking of getting plastered, Thats what we did in the TV room and it was a bit embarrassing because Guiseppe who owns the hotel does not like that, so we go shouted at a few times for laughing too loudly and in a drunken manner and he said (he speaks quite good english when he is angry) that we must not do sick on his settee. Petra said that he could rest in peace because we do not do that kind of thing and anyway we were drinking responsibly which was a lie.
Today we had headaches and then - just like a dream - Petra walks out and says she has had enough of moping around with a Barking boy in Rome and wants to see the other side of life somewhere else and with someone else - so I am pretty miserable now and groping for reality. Still she was a bit of a pain and I was just not getting things done like I thought I might on this adventure of a lifetime so I have decided to be philisophical abou it and take it on the chin - lets see how I feel about it tomorrow !

Boxing Day Blues - need air

Still alive - christmas day was crap - half a rabbit and some olives is not what I call festive. John Belushi shouting at me in my whiskey fuelled dreams and Petra screaming because the supermarket is not open. I decided to wear a kilt all day and the hotel staff were bemused. I kicked a dog , ate too many chocolate frogs and felt sick. So, Its Boxing day and now everything is fine - look forward to tomorrow and normality in Rome. May try to get out to the countryside, need fresh air. Starting to feel stifled here in the city, need air, need air, cant breathe , need air.

Loren at Christmas

Ahh! Rome - lets talk about Sophia Loren, she was great wasnt she ? Here is some of her homespun philosophy whuch beats me rabbiting on about liquorice or Port. The snarl on Petra's face as I go on about this god of Italian cinema grows snarlier by the minute. So anyway, Bassetts make a mean allsort. Its Christmas Eve, we are all allowed to dream, and Bob Cratchett and Tiny Tim dreamt so I can too. I am no Scrooge, neither bah humbug or the nice turkey buying man who enthusiastically showered money after seeing those ghosts - nightcap please - thanks Petra dear - always a scotch on christmas eve. NICE. Here is some Loren quotes :

“The two big advantages I had at birth were to have been born wise and to have been born in poverty.”

“When I was a child, fear was common to my life—fear of having nothing to eat, fear of the other children taunting me at school because I was illegitimate, and particularly fear of the big bombers appearing overhead and dropping their lethal bursts from the sky.”

“I was not intrigued with the accouterments of success and fame, the furs, jewels, expensive automobiles and mansions…. I can assure you that these things were not on my mind when I sat spellbound in that Pozzuoli movie house. It was what these performers on the screen were doing, not what they received for doing it.”

“Though poor and anxious to work, I refused to alter anything. They would take me as I looked or not at all…. Eventually I profited by looking like myself and not like what was fashionable years ago with certain film technicians in Rome.”

“I was blessed with a sense of my own destiny. I have never sold myself short. I have never judged myself by other people’s standards. I have always expected a great deal of myself, and if I fail, I fail myself.”

Fat bottomed girls in Rome

Seeing as there are so many fat bottomed girls straying into my visual path here in Rome, Italy and I have finished my indoor golf tournamnet against myself (using rolled up newspaper and a light stand, I thought it would make sense to do a much needed analysis of Brian May’s delightful Queen song Fat Bottomed Girls .

Are you gonna take me home tonight
Notice he wants them to have the upper hand – he wants to be man handled
Ah down beside that red firelight
They must have a real fire, which means humping coal scuttles and being nifty with a red hot poker. I suppose one of those fake gas fires might do, but Brian is a wealthy man, I think he expects the best.
Are you gonna let it all hang out
Well, here we wonder if he means the butt or something else, there has been no netion of the fat bottom yet but the listener has been forewarned by the unambiguous title.
Fat bottomed girls
Ah here we go - Brian lets it all out of the bag himself
You make the rockin' world go round
Good play on words here as we know Brian is a rocker of some considerable pedigree, but the rockin’ he could also be referring to is the steady rocking normally necessary when in the act of lovemaking.

Hey I was just a skinny lad
He still is – Brian goes autobiographical here
Never knew no good from bad
Was he a naughty boy ? I think that is unlikely, so some poetic licence must be given here, Brian obviously wants to paint himself as a rock rebel with a James Dean past.
But I knew life before I left my nursery
So he had a nursery, and presumably he was put in there until quite an age
Left alone with big fat Fanny
His formative years have obviously been heavily influenced by this Fanny woman
She was such a naughty nanny
So his parents have a lot to answer for, keeping him in a nursery until his teens with a nymphomaniac with a large rear end.
Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me
Imagine, just the two of them, a skinny, deprived teenager who, when not in his play pen, was lost in the billowing flesh of the paid help
Hey hey!
Exactly, hey up ! what the hell was going on, still he was having fun and so was she so good luck to them both and God Bless ‘em.

I've been singing with my band
Backing vocals mostly, but then Freddie had to sing this so I suppose that is fine ...
Across the wire across the land
I think this is just filler, Brian is losing his way here
I seen ev'ry blue eyed floozy on the way
Brian honed in on blue eyes only – no brown eyes here !
But their beauty and their style
So in Brians world, blue eyes equate to normal or skinny bottom, not the fat bottom he so desperately requires.
Went kind of smooth after a while
Brian wants it rough
Take me to them dirty ladies every time
Big butt, dirty butt, dirty lady, Fanny – do not forget Fanny
Oh won't you take me home tonight?
Repeated to emphasize fat bottomed dominance of his world
Oh down beside your red firelight
Red light district ?
Oh and you give it all you got
Fanny must have given it all she had
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round

Hey listen here
Brian has something important to say
Now your mortgages and homes
Is he talking to us ? – I think so
I got stiffness in the bones
He’s either getting old (which he is) or he’s got a boner
Ain't no beauty queens in this locality (I tell you)
He is just stating his own opinion ladies, don’t get shirty, remember Fanny fucked him up a bit
Oh but I still get my pleasure
Good, everyone deserves a bit of pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure
Yes, we know what that is going to be
Heap big woman you gonna make a big man out of me
Thought so !
Now get this

Let’s play it out now and let Brian just ride it out …

Oh you gonna take me home tonight (please)Oh you gonna take me home tonight (please)
Oh down beside your red firelight
Oh you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round
Get on your bikes and ride

Oooh yeah them fat bottomed girls
Fat bottomed girls
Yeah yeah yeah
Fat bottomed girls
Yes yes

Song by Brian May

Good work Brian, you'd love Rome. Sorry Freddy is dead and all that.

Petra has gone walkabout for a day - and I am just holed up in bed with a cold.

I only grt up to do a Yuletide log.

Esten - Rome 23/12/2006

Leather Trousers

It is nice and mild here in Rome (although freezing last night when I was out a-wanderin') and I can quite handle this double figure degrees centigrade situation. The Romans are rushing around shouting a lot - getting christmas sorted out I suppose, and Petra and I spent yesterday eating and drinking. Today we played hand tennis with an old ball in a deserted street near the hotel and three Swedish guys joined in and turned it into some kind of surrael game with no rules. I like games with no rules, or rather games that have an arbitrary set of pointless rules that can be broken at any time. The punishment for breaking pointless arbitrary rules was quite severe in this case and often involved having your head sat on, which meant a big Swedish Arse on your ear. Anyway you can see thatthis was punishment indeed. Petra is wearing a pink scarf and hat and I have leather trousers on. I love leather, I must get more. So tis may be a leather christmas. I will rush out soon and get a new leather belt.

I'm in Rome ! shaddap-a you face

Arrived - like dead birds reborn ! in a new country - ITALY !! and here me and Petra - Oh Petra - are in the home of Pasta and Chianti - lick my lips. Still in Olive world - but a slightly different flavour although I callenge you to spot the difference - really, although there may be some serious olive buffs who can. Got here around noon and skuffed about looking for Mafiosi cosa Nostra types and generalyy looking around. Spent some time in an Arman shop annoying the assistants, and chatted with a young enlish mum who ws ove here with her five children !!. Sat in A central expensive cafe and did not worry about drinking two bottles of Sicilian Red and then hunted for a hotel. Got cold and huddled for a while on a bench. Petra decided on a little nostar effort run by a big Mama who seems freindly eough when she is not shouting. Just settling in - had a long sleep. Then brushed my filthy ragamuffin teeth, Phoned Bob and he says I have done well getting out of Athens - there is only so much he says that you can take of a Greek city. So anyway - here we are and I intend to make the most of my time here - my head is full of the noise and bustle - the buzzing of mopeds and the smell of Pizza !

Gets me Singing !

'Allo, I'm-a Giuseppe, I got-a something special-a for you, ready Uno, duo, tre, quatro When I was a boy, just about the eighth-a grade Mama used to say don't stay out-a late With the bad-a boys, always shoot-a pool Giuseppe going to flunk-a school Boy, it make-a me sick, all the t'ing I gotta do I can't-a get-a no kicks, always got to follow rules Boy, it make-a me sick, just to make-a lousy bucks Got to feel-a like a fool and-a mama used to say all-a time What's-a matter you Hey! Gotta no respect What-a you t'ink you do? Why you look-a so sad It's-a not so bad, it's-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap-a you face That's-a my mama, I can remember Big accordion solo Ah! Play dat again, Really nice, really nice Soon-a come-a day, gonna be a big-a star Den I make-a TV shows and-a movies Get-a myself a new car, but still I be myself I don't want-a to change a t'ing, still a-dance and a-sing I t'ink about-a mama, she used to say What's-a matter you Hey! Gotta no respect What-a you t'ink you do Why you look-a so sad It's-a not so bad, it's-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap-a you face Mama, she said it all-a da time What's-a matter you Hey Gotta no respect What-a you t'ink you do Why you look-a so sad It's-a not so bad, it's-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap-a you face That s-a my mama Hello, everybody! 'At's out-a dere in-a radio and-a TV land Did you know I had a big-a hit-a song in-a Italy with-a disc Shaddap-a you face I sing-a dis-a song, all-a my fans applaud Dey clap-a da hands, dat-a make me feel-a so good You ought to learn-a dis-a song, it's-a real-a simple See, I sing: what's-a matter you You sing Hey Den I sing-a da rest and den at de end, we can all-a sing: Ah, Shaddap-a you face! O.k., let's-a try it, really big Uno, duo, tre, quatro What's-a matter you Hey Gotta no respect Hey What-a you t'ink you Hey do Why you look-a so sad Hey It's-a not so bad Hey it's-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap-a you face OK one more-a time for mama What's-a matter you Hey Gotta no respect Hey What-a you t'ink you Hey do Why you look-a so sad Hey It's-a not so bad Hey it's-a nice-a place Ah, shaddap-a you face

Rome is where my heart lies

So, anyway, I have bought a ticket to Rome. A plane ticket - fies tomorrow morning at 10 am so Italy here I come. Looking forward to seeing the collessium and eating Roma ice cream even if it is December and nearly christmas. I willbe looking for any old cheap hotel with a bit of character near the centre and as I havent ever been to Rome before i will explore. I am looking forward to getting out of Athens - and the best thing is that Petra is coming along for the ride. I just phoned Bob and he told me that he was very impressed with my travels so far even though I had pnly got as far as Athens - I seemed to have travelled a long way in my head and he thinks things are looking up for me. Well thats nice aint it ?. Sharon is doing well and spends the day in her dressing gown and slippers reading Hello and OK magazines. I met an very posh Englishman hanging around in a bookshop in Athens centre and we got talking. He thought I should try Golfing Holidays in Italy seeing as I was going there and had all the free time in the world. Isaid I did not play and he showed me a few swings and said even Larry David likes golf - you know from Curb Your Enthusiasm. I see what he means - I mean Larry David is quite cool and he likes Golf - so why not use him as a role model into my middle and old age. You see Golf gets you walking about the manicured countryside with the big sandpits and the fairways.

Still, tat is not why I have gone on this big adventure, certainly not to play golf. Icannot say exactly why I am on this adventure but I know that Rome is my next stop - so here I come Italy and look out - here comes my little honey - Petra the lady with the strange therapies and bad drinking habits.

We celebrate with a few vodkas and then crash out. Sleep tight. Sleep right. Sleeeeeeep. Fall asleep. Or just snooze.

Honey on the head

Covered myself in cream and hour ago. Then Petra refused to lick it and I was left to have a shower and wash it off. Went out for a run, zooming past Greek people in the old streets, but feeling quite ill when I got back. Called Bob and he told me to stop smoking and I tod him I already had - because I am on this health and fitness thing and he said "oh ? by the way Leona won the Xfactor and she is going to be very very rich" and I said "that is because she is a natural born singer" I said my goodbyes and hung up. Petra says that she would like to go to Bulgaria and Romainia but I am more interested in Italy or Portugal or India. My chequered pants have got torn and I started freaking out about it , much to my embarassment and Petra thinks I have a few hang ups that I need to exorcise. So I tell her to give me some therapy if she is so certain. So she gets me to sit quietly for a moment with my eyes shut, then she starts to wail rather shamanically like a cat. Then she pours some thick syrupy liquid goo over my head and strats to rub it into my hair "Think of nothing" "Think of Nothing" - It is honey I realise as a small dribble lands on my lips. She then begins to slap me very hard on my cheeks shouting "release the demons !" I roar very loudly in an attempt to release the demons, trying to get into the spirit of the thing. The next minut Spiros is shaking me and slapping me, asking me what happened - I tell him everything is OK and crawl into a sticky bed - Sleep Sleep and Dreams Dreams.

The girl is crazy
She make me hazy
She do my head in
When she go mad mad mad

Olives for Christmas

Everyone will be getting Olives for Christmas. Petra and I have been out getting all sorts of live gifts for our friends and family. I have bought Olives with chillis and those lovely strong Greek black olives that Crespo do. Sending home will be late but it is the thought that counts - so Bob will get his finest green olives and extra virgin olive oil in the new year - plus the DVD of "Mighty Aphrodite" by Woody Allan - which is a film I like and has a Greek Chorus - so that is a bit Greek and I am away from my home in Barking and away from my balding friend Bob and his pregnant girlfriend Sharon with the curly blonde hair and the nice smile - loud farts - and interesting fetish for white tracksuits and pink bunnies. So anyway - buying a Woody Allan movie cheered me up and I did not want to spend the day just by Olives and Olive Oil although at the start of the shopping experience I thought that was a pretty neat idea. In the middle of the day at around 2 o'clock I got tired and we sat in a bar and drank two bottles of red wine, which was nice. Then we hit the Olives again. Petra's father will get masses - although he sounds quite frightening, with a sharp pointy beard and a feirce look (I saw a photograph Petra is carrying). I think Woody Allan liiks nicer and I think she would have been better off with Woody as her dad. Still Christmas is now sorted - great fun doing the shopping in Athens the people are very friendly. But we are going to have to get out of here soon. We have discussed staying in Greece for a bit - maybe splashing some money on a luxury Holiday or even a Greek Island Cruise Holiday or renting a Villa with Pool but it seems like the wrong time of year ! Hell, when you have a sweet girl like Petra on your arm choosing Olives (despite her rather sinister looking father) then who cares about it being Winter. Any way - Olives to pack !! Happy days.

Indie clothing

Last two days I been all over Athens trying to get some better gear. Petra thinks I need som Indie clothes advice and I have taken it to heart. Being a sensitive guy I cannot take too much criticism of my clothing, so I decide to buy into her world view on well cut shirts, trousers that are not baggy and decent shoes. It has been difficult but I managed to find some old worn out straight jeans that look pretty good (they were too long in the leg and Petra took them up for me, which was very nice of her - and suprising). I decided to wear deck shoes everywhere except when jogging and my T-shirts are Godzilla and an unusual one that proclaims that I have a drink problem in that I cannot get enough. Actually I have just thrown thta one out and bought 5 white T-shirs and I have bought some permenant ink markers and have already drawn all over 2 of them. One I have copied a face of Marylyn Monroe - you know, the actress who shagged everyone on set. The other one is an abstract involving a large rabbit like shape and a series of English words like HOME, and GET, and FUDGE and LIGHTBULB.

Petra has been quite a sport and seems to have enjoyed the last couple of days - in factshe is hanging over my shoulders now reading this, and I hav promised that she can write the next blog (maybe). Anyways - off to eat Lobster and drink White Wine (well I'll move on to red later) and then we will stroll. Speak - through the many faceted tongue of PEtra tomorrow - ciaou for now.

Freud alienated at the Acropolis

Apparently on his only visit to Greece, Sigmund Freud experienced brief but unsettling feelings of alienation as he stood on the Acropolis. I went back there today and I felt alienated. Lonely and fearing death. Some days it just gets to me that way and I suppose bumming around not working with too much time on my hands to do nothing much at all must be a contributing factor. So perhaps I should do some work - maybe bar work. I have never worked behaind a bar before bur how difficult can it be. I suppose there are drunken revellers hassling you all night but maybe I could get a job an a quiet bar on a quiet part of town. Its not like it booze city like Friday night in the centre of all our towns in England. So I drift down from the alienation feeling and into the practical - how do I go about getting a job ?. so I start entering bars and asking in English if they need staff. I just get a lot of shaking heads for two hours and head back to the hotel for a kip. Just as I am about to nip upstairs I hear Petra "Hey Boy !" -
"Hi Petra, do you want to come upstairs and drink some ouzo ?"
" Yes Boy that sounds idyllic "
We go up and I pour two large glasses mixed with tap water - no ice.
"Petra ? "
"Yes"
"What are you doing here in Athens ?"
" I am waiting to go to the islands, but I have just postpone it for a while because I have to wait now for some money to come into my account"
She laughed playfully and Wacked my knee, took a slug of Ouzo and suggested sex. Which we did for 3 hours and then both fell asleep. I phoned Bob later and he said I was a lucky bastard and that he was depressed because Sharon had gone all luvvy duvvy over her pregnancy and he was not so sure but I told him to get a grip, it was obviously what he wanted as well for Christ's sake - the grass is always greener eh ? I told him to take up yoga with Sharon and do all that baby in a tub business - he seemed to cheer up a bit and laughed when he said that they had had to cancel their horse riding holiday in Spain

Black day in Athens, Greece

I've been in a black mood all day here in Athens. Bloody Athens - driving me nuts - Petra turns out to be unstable and I'm left wondering what an earth I am doing here. I eat three huge Kebabs- feel sick, drink a litre of lemonade. Ten Go to the Parthenon. Very nice and all that but I cannot help kicking walls and being annoyed. Go to a record store and buy a traditional Greek CD and go back to listen to it in my room. Spiros is waiting for me with his hulk face - syas I must pay up now or get out - I decide to hang on here fo another couple of days. I go to my room and listen to this: Album: Greek Songs Dances and Rembetiko - Artist: The Athenians and you lucky people can listen to exactly what I was listening to (or preview it anyway) at http://www.mp3.com/albums/389531/summary.html - I particularly like Jiati - there is something about it that makes me happy again to be here in Athens and not so BLACK in mood and sombre. - Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I do not vcall Bob - I do not want to depress him - so slowly I fall into a semi peaceful sleep and dream of skiing in france.

Not such a good night in Athens

Its 10am in Athens and I am not going off to the islands with Petra and her crew. We met up as planned at a little bar and discussed Global Warming for an hour and then Globalisation over some more Vodka and Retsina. I ate my fish which unfortunately was covered in a coconut sauce which I was not partial to and Petra got very drunk quite early - about 9.30 and we had to help her to her room. she slammed the door shut in my face and I wandered out with Olly from Reading who said he hoped she would be fit for the ferry in the morning. I went back to my room at 11.30 and though about the whole Global Warming issue. Petra had been saying we should not fly because it used up so much Carbon and Olly was confusing me with his Carbon tax stuff and I was wondering how on earth it could work and I started to get a pain in my head. Global warming eh ? who would have thought that, we had a Cold War and now that has thawed out we are over heating and the Chinese and the Indians want to cash in on Techno living and are going Techno hardcore and they have plenty of capability to pump out more and more greenhouse gases and smoke and stuff. Fall asleep.

There is a lot of pollution in Athens I suddenly have a strong desire for some fresh air coupled with relaxation, luxury holidays in Greece , you know, a bit of pampering, the kind that only money can buy.

9am this morning: Then I imagine what Petra must be feeling like and I remember that she gave me her mobile number so I give Bob a call an ask him if he thinks I should give her a ring and he tells me that Sharon is pregnant. I ring Petra and she says:

"I was drinking too much last night, outta sight, was I embarrassing, I hope I did not bore you"

" Oh" I say "You went on a bit about the planet's problems, you know, you could lighten up a bit"

"BUT THIS IS VITALLY IMPORTANT YOU CRETIN" she shouts

"Yes but we were just having a quiet drink in a bar, we were not in Pariliament and I am not an MP"

"OK point taken you half panker"

"panker ?"

"Panker, plinker" she sounds confused

"you mean I am a PLONKER !" I say excitedly

"You said it" She laughs then sas she is going to be sick and hangs up.

I go back to bed - I need to sleep on this.

Things are going to be just great !!

Really scrub down around 4pm using some soap with petals on it I got from the Body Shop at Gatwick. Then use a face mud pack - I must be dolling myself up for that Petra. she is blonde, long hair down below shoulders, kind but impish face and nature, German I think bit her English is really good. She wears a lot of beige cordueroy with zips and woollen bag (purple and crimson) and says things like " things are going to be just great !! why dont you hang out with us for a while". Us is some girls and a bloke I haven't seen yet, so obviously I hope they are OK too. Apparently tonight we are trying out a new liitle bar and then we'll maybe dance and then a backpackers party somewhere - before setting off to the Islands tomorrow. So scrub away SCRUB away the filth and dirt - scrape away the grease. Next I call Bob but my battery was flat and I just get a "hello" out of him. Next - more sleep. Must be refreshed and ready and willing !!

Then I draw quickly a sketch of Petra from memory and here is the result which I am quite pleased with - but not so pleased as to wish to show her, but I can keep a sketchbook of my adventures on the road and this can be sketch number one. My tooth strts aching and I gasp at the size of my toe nails, but then laugh because I have not got my clippers. Then I remember my Swiss Army Penknife - what a great thing if a bit broken, and I manage to waste a further 15 minutes clipping some very tough old yellowing toe nails. I look at myself in the mirror and see some spots and then wonder what to eat - fish maybe and I remember a photograph I saw recently of an absolutely huge catfish someone had caught in Spain it was absolutely huge. Maybe I should go fishing in Spain - that could be really great fun If I could bear getting so close to those wet slimy wriggly monsters, it could be a bit of a freak out.

Ray Quinn in the Final

So, 10am this morning in Athens - go for a wander, start feeling a bit sick, call Bob and hear that little Ray Quinn (looking a bit green under the gills here I think even he would admit) and Leona have made it through to the Final of Xfactor - feel a bit glad I am not resorting to sitting in Barking wih chocolate (70% Cacao) and a strong Cabernet Sauvignon trying to get into Simon Cowell's vision and wishing that maybe I'd been brave enough to start betting heavily on these shows. I mean it was obvious really that little Ray would make it through wasn't it ?.

I eat some cheese, olives and drink a bottle of the finest Retsina (I only like that pine taste when I'm actually in Greece !) and, hooray, bump into that sweet Petra girl again at a busy junction and agree to meet up later on - she is off to the Islands tomorrow and she says I can tag along so that sounds good. I head back to my room. Fall asleep for two hours. Wake up and start writing down the places I'd like to visit on this long and hopefully not so lonely trip - I'd like to make it to see some Buddhist stuff in India which would be fun, and in Europe I'd like a bit of skiing in Italy if I can afford it, maybe in the Dolomites and perhaps I'll give Snowboarding a go.

Eyes popping out in a two star hotel in Athens

Crashed in Rafinikos 2 star hotel and had a long session of panic when I locked myself into the loo and could not get out. Made an almighty noise, in the end a huge hulk like man got the door open and looked angry at me - said something in Greek which probably resembled - you stupid English twat ! and I felt homesick . I gave Bob a call and he told me to keep my chin up. Later after a couple of Ouozo's alone in my room (peeling flowery wallpaper and a chipped Madonna on the wall) I got paranoid that I had been drugged with a strong dose of LSD. I kept thinking I was in Louisiana on a porch singing Cajun music - then the walls closed in on me and the flowery wallpaper became quite excitingly vivid and moved (well writhed would be a better description) around until it all became like the Day of the Triffids. I went through a huge thought process about self harm through drink, smoking and drugs and felt that I had better give up everything: but then the human body is often amazing at getting back together again after abuse. Still Health and Fitness could be a theme of this jouney. Several themes are now appearing, Cooking, Health, fun, partying, not working. But this weird feeling I had been drugged carried on for several hours - I rolled on the floor - took off all my clothes - charged around - sang Cajun (my interpretation of Cajun) music - listen to my IPOD - but changed the music all the time - never settling. One minute it was Jimmy Hendrix, the next it was Kylie Minogue. I felt at one point as if my eyes would pop out. Then I fell asleep. The next thing I know, it is the next day and a brand new start can be started right away. Damn - also missed that party that Petra had mentioned. Never mind there will be a lot more opportunities like that I am sure. Feeling Great!! after the long sleep.

Dehydrated Mouth

Spent 2 hours in Athens Airport with a very dehydrated mouth. Managed to get a Coke and felt better but then thought that things were getting pretty bad if I need a Coke to feel better. Perhaps a good dose of Natural Holistic Health would be a good idea. My hair feels thin and my big black boots were rubbing and my pants were chaffing. I gave Bob a ring but he groaned and told me to DOS off backwards.

I spent an hour after that in an Internet cafe ehre I drank several cups of strong coffee. I'm now talking to Petra who is backpacking her way round and she's told me about a good party tonight.

Dos Vi Danya - speak Domani babes...

Gatwick Airport

I’m still here – chatting with Tanya who works at Nero’s at Gatwick Airport – and I also gave Bob a call at work and he said that he’d give anything to be in my shoes right now because work just got a whole lot worse at P & Q because of a shake up and the hours he’ll have to put in are frightening because a few key people are leaving including ME Esten - and things were not going to be so cushy anymore – which is hard for computer programmers because they can only do so much and then they burn out - so if you push them too hard they just burn out quick. They take careful management if you want to get the peak optimum out of them over a reasonably long career without frazzling them into an early retirement and shelf stacking at Sainsbury’s when the dream of a pig farm doesn’t quite come off (or chickens).


Anyway that made me feel good about leaving. No tears shed there – just have to waut for this damn flight to get re scheduled – and moveon from strong coffee to Lager and then wine and then more coffee and then vodka.

Flight - supposed to leave at 1.30 pm - finally leaves at 6.30pm. Who cares ? Not me I am a nice peaceful – take anything kind of guy and Mrs Banshott and her family of three boys between 10 and 16 are very nice and they are looking after me - chatting and I have played the Nintendo DS a few times and - the reading a book about germ warfare.

I used the toilets 8 times and bought some wet wipes because they were on offer. I looked in WH Smiths at a book on Holistic & Spa Holidays in Italy and made a few mental notes to get pampered – because of course massage and yoga and that kind of thing are supposed to be very good for you - although as a programmer I found it interesting that slouching is now considered to be very good for you as compared to sitting upright as they always seem to have said all these years of health and safety checkers coming round to assess your ergonomics at the desk.

The airport was very full and there were quite a few security police with guns. It looked like they had their hands on the triggers and on false move and you’d be wiped out, although they must be a bit more wary after killing that innocent Brazilian. You can imagine their pep talks – you know – don’t just shoot anyone – we have used up that ticket – we have to get vaguely guilty people now – the public are a bit more choosy now. Theres been plenty of blood gone under the bridge and they cannot afford to make one almighty Garfunkle of the situation again


Then I’m up in the clouds looking out over the sea and then just loads of fast white mist. I’m sitting next to Jock Ryder a guy who works in Germany on shop fitting teams – they move in quick and pride themselves on turning round jobs in 24 hours that others could take a week to do. He gets paid a lot and from what I could gather drank a lot of it away, but he did seem to love his wife and two kids. Jock had a sideline selling kitchen knives and he tried to entice me with his brochure, but I am he last one who needs to do much chopping – well unless I follow that idea of learning to cook in A Spanish , French Greek Italian or what about India – curries - I could become an expert curry maker.

So Esten falls asleep – that’s me falling asleep - and the white fuzz of the clouds whizzes pas and the soundtrack of my life plays backwards through my dozing ears and I dream of white chickens in great numbers. The coop is huge and the ground is arid and the chickens have trouble feeding and I am responsible for getting them enough food but there just does not seem to be enough on the ground or anywhere. Which becomes quite a worry and panic sets in

Corfu Espresso Now !!

Today I go to Corfu Greece, and I expect a bit of luxury in Greece because I have paid for a couple of nights to kick off in a hotel. I shall be expecting some cheesy plate smashing and all that and also some women to at least chat with and then Spiro and his wife will pour some generous nightcaps before I sink into a peaceful calm. But all that will come later. First I had to call a cab to the station, and then to Victoria, I couldn’t get the automatic ticket machine to work and that annoyed me a bit but then – who cares I ‘m getting out of here. So then I sat on the train looking out of the window and thought about videos with views for trains – speeding countryside and films on trains and people who insist on going on life changing Rail Journeys in exotic places like the Tran Siberian express.

Fly like a Bird in sky

I fall asleep with wine dribbling out of the side of my mouth and fully clothed (Blue Jeans – Levis 501 and a grey top form Next or Gap I cannot remember – I used to be a Gap Man but now I may even be a Marks and Spencers man because they seem to have pulled their socks up - and what stylish socks they can be – and underwear.)


This day that I, Esten Walker leave the UK - hoooooorrrrayyyy

So, I get myself up out of my fully clothed early morning nightmare and shower away the cobwebs and then shave – those battery powered wet shavers from Gilette are good but I really cannot afford those blades – I wince when I go in to the chemists or Superdrug or Tescos and they want to charge me over 10 quid for a few blades – so I shave with the one blade that came with this vibrating thing and actually it makes me realise that these multi blades really do last a long time because I’ve now been using the same blade for months and I can still get a decent shave from it. Maybe it is like the cutting edge power you are supposed to get if you sleep under a pyramid – this battery jolt of electricity is not only helping you to joggle out your facial hair but it is also magically keeping the blades super sharp . But anyway why would a few beard hairs wreck a blade in two shaves – the answer has to be deliberately crap blades – I mean these firms have got to make a living and its either £1.29p for 8 crap Bics and you do not mind doing that over and over again but it is painful on the chin not in the pocket - or a once in a blue moon purchase of an extravagantly expensive piece of wet shave equipment that still goes some way to satisfying the Gillette shareholders whoever they are. For all you out there who are desiring of an independent review or did not even realise that you wanted one but will quite enjoy one once you have read it here is an independent review -

This certainly gives a better shave than a conventional razor, maybe even more than Gillette's own mighty Mach3 range. What's more, so far the wife's loved it, saying that we not only looked younger, but were more kissable as well (result). The vibration for some reason works, and what's even better is that it is nice on the skin when you shave. Reports from Gillette suggest that this razor has done wonders in America exceeded all sales expectations and for the curiosity factor we can see why.

More at http://www.pocket-lint.co.uk/reviews/review.phtml/569/1593/gillette-m3power-razor-vibrating-shaving.phtml

Flamenco and Wine and Nervousness

So now, I’m (that’s me Esten Walker) have finally told Bob and Sharon, that I’m off and tomorrow I fly to Greece and no doubt tomorrow I’ll be chatting and sharing an ouzo with a Spiros and ogling the local beauties on the island of Corfu. I have to pack and this bothers me, but hen I’ll just bung it all together last minute, Must not forget the camera so that all you Cyber Junkies can see the existential travellers adventures in colour – not that I can take many good photographs - it is a fact of life that any thought to take a shot of anything vaguely interesting is always too late and is very annoying.
So I open a bottle of the fineset Vino and put my feet up and hum a melody. Watch X factor and shine my shoes – feeling a bit nervous. This great leap into the unknown could be a bit much for my weak frame ut on the other hand I could learn a fw things – maybe Jamie Oliver style I will come back having learnt to cook in Portugal or reinvent myself as the Picasso of my generation in Spain after splashing paint around in some sexy artists studio in Andalucia. And that then gets me thinking about flamenco which I have always liked – and dig around on You Tube and find this which I think is very relaxed flamenco technique:

Esten - Thinks Rebel Rebel

You've got your mother in a whirl
Shes not sure if youre a boy or a girl
Hey babe, your hairs alright
Hey babe,
Lets go out tonight
You like me,
And I like it all
We like dancing and we look divine
You love bands when they're playing hard
You want more and you want it fast
They put you down, they say I'm wrong
You tacky thing, you put them on

So all this thinking about adventures in Spain or France or Italy or wherever got me humming Rebel Rebel and I like that kind of stuff, you I like bands when they play it hard - and all that so I tried to use it as inspiration and I ended up leaning towards Berlin - and getting into a art scene in Berlin, where I could express myself in a number of ways that involve staying up late in clubs with dripping newspaper and white faces with blood red lips, smoke and bad attitudes to Heroine etc - I think I was going down a blind alley - but better than some alleyways in Barking and so I phoned Bob - and he said I should just take a chance on chance and see what happened and this I suppose is what I am doing.

Miniscule trial run for Esten in Valencia

So, I did a trial run the next weekend and Easy Jet took me to Valencia where I sat in a lot of cafes on my own and I tried to work out an angle. This guy here tootles a tune for a long time on his saxaphone and I wrestled with how I'd be - you know - not working - just bumming around Europe or Greece or whatever and - yes of course with money but, on my own. I didnt want to resort too much to alcohol and yet it was all too easy. Then I tried dancing a bit moronically at a few Euro clubs - but mosty of the time I watched all these families having big social meals in restaurants and I could not find my angle - So I thought I'd have to try harder. It was a bit lonely, and Bob was not going top be around - and I was glad not to be doing this with a girlfriend because it felt like I may be getting on to something.

So you see, it was a bit depressing that trial run, but it was such a tiny trial run - a miniscule pin prick of trial that I couldnt help thinking (and I was going to be doing a lot of that - because brains ten towards thinking when they have nothing better to do) that it did not matter.

Valencia was something I had to go through - so like a mincer and a mangler Valencia prepared me. Lets see I thought.

Esten needs SunShine !

So, I (I am Esten Walker, hello there !) walk out of the door and see an old lady and she says to me,

"You need a holiday son" - you need to go somewhere" (and I will put links in occasionally of good sites where I can find this kind of information or other interesting stuff)

You see I know this lady - she is Patricia Barker and she lives on the same street as me in my home town here in UK - Barking.

So anyways - that starts me off thinking - well she could be right so I go to Suzy in the cafe and I order my coffee - you see its my day off from the job in IT (computing for you who dont know - you see I program like a mighty pen and the bosses like the way I do it quick - not always nice but quite often does the job)

Suzy has plaits, and she is quite nice to me - and sometimes Bob andrews who works in the office and who knocks around with me when he feels like it and his girlfriend Sharon Marks is run off home with her mum ( I like her mum - she always has a good nose round everything and everyone and is suspicious of everything - as if I had a gun or something - when all I do is the honest things like going down the shops or playing pitch and putt or drinking occasionally. Well a fair bit I suppose - mostly with Bob, but sometimes I have a bottle of Hungarian Wine on my own if the mood takes me - which is quite often really.)

So I says to Suzy - do I need a holiday ? and she laughs - WEee allll neeeed holidays - !! she says - Well where ? -

I'm biased - she says, I - part Greek and my hubby is part Greek and so - she leaves a gap - I say Greece.

I sit down with my Nescafe and try to do my sums - and all this happened 3 months ago - so I think I remember calling Bob on the mobile and checking what he thought and whether just maybe he was up for a break in Greece or some such sunny land (it was May and even though it was not that pleasant a day in Barking UK - I imagined it would probably be a scorcher in Greece) but Bob was not into it, because Sharon Marks was going with him later in the year to Tenerife and that would be his annual leave up the spout not to mention cash

So, I had a bit odf a brain flash and thought how nice it would be just to sod off on my own for a bit and perhaps take in Greece and maybe somewhere else and one thing led to another and I was doing my sums - and I often sit and do quite complicated sums in my head or on scrapso of paper because they quite excite me - especially if they are to do with money. These sums went quite wild and soon the possibilities became obvious and I wondered why I hadnt thhought of it earlier - here I was a 32 year old man boy with no ties and a girlfriend was a thing of the past - over 6 months past and I do not want you to think out there in Cyber Junky Land - you addicts - that I am a sad loser type who never stood a chance in the pairing it off with a woman stakes - but these days we are doing it later and one of my mates at work is over 40 and he has just had his first kid - and his wife is 25, and he seems quite happy. So he'll be about 58 when the kid comes of age and you see he doesnt smoke (drinks quite a bit but then dont we all ? ) and we are all living longer you know - if we are not all killed off by Global Warming, but then that'll be nearly all of us and who cares then - how do you explain that to the kids ? - still I can wait - there is time yet, I do not have a clock thing ticking in my abdomen - relax take your time - have a Hamlet cigar moment - life lasts for ever - it is eternal up until it finishes.

Greece - or the Greek Islands were a good idea - thats the best idea I had been given for a long time - but now I was thinking big. Quit the contract at P & Q Reliant, Sell the flat (maybe £100, 000 profit - Sell for £220,000 mortgage only £110,000 - factor in some costs and a loan to pay off and then BANK !) I was getting excited then - dribbling coffee - of course I'd thought of it many times before - but not seriously - I suppose Mum and Dad dying had triggered a late change in the chemical make up last year (car crash - near Barking - Dad driving and drunk NO DOUBT although we had been told nothing). My sister is older than me - Betty Dryden nee Walker of course and she had been as cut up as me - and we had to go trough that whole greiving thing together - but now she is back with hubby in Norwich and I only speak to her on the phone once or twice a month. I think she's OK now - -her husband Michael is nice enough - a stage manager at a local theatre - he can build sets really quick and shouts at people).

So thats how I decided to up sticks and shake my life down like a pet blanket. Get rid of the cobwebs out of my hair -and start celebrating life again.