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