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 ?