Abstract Feelings while Hiding from a Beating

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

Trouble, BIG trouble !!

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

Film Plot

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

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

Still a Runner

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

A quick poem

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

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

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

Work in Barcelona

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

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

Jeezers Whip and wangle

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

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

Petra contacted me !

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

A Dump in Spades

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

The odd rant

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

Romance in Paris coming up I think perhaps maybe

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

Music trip in a Commune

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tartan Slapper

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

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

I Marseille, Its a wonderful Place

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

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

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

Tartan and Sunglasses of an Older Woman

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

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

Champagne and Red Wine all Afternoon

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

Lying on the floor looking at the door

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

Armchair Astronaut

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

Self portrait and drinking day in Naples

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

Plans

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

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

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

Maybe I should cut down my drinking ?

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

Poetic Nature Bursts Forth

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

Scotch Italian Style

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

We're from Barcelona is a catchy tune

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

Feeling Simple in Naples

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

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

Robot Discussions

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

Frank, Drink, Naples

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

Naples !

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

Hey ! I am feeling better

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

Rome Fever

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

Recovery Period

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

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

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

Spiked at the Trevi Fountain

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

Via Del Corso pad incident

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

Stuck in Rome again

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

So I will rest my weary head.

Big nose for deer on heat

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

Lakeside Picnic wrapped in Blanket

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

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

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

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

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

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

We will be heading for Naples to eat fish I think

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

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

Onwards and upwards to the south.

Oh my lord - let there be light

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still there is always tomorrow.

A day of meditation and high wind

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lago di Bracciano at last

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

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

Au Revoir ...

One more cup of coffee

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

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

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

Lazy day in an Italian's Home

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

Good fortune comes our way ...

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

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

April Fool in January

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

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

Out on the road with no Segway

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

One more Day in the traffic hell hole

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

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

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

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

Day in Bed

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

Day one of walk out of Rome

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

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

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

Sleeing Better Soon !

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









The wanderlust grips me


Like a feverish fist


I must take to the hills


Above the lowland mist





I want to see the long view


Stretching out ahead


To get a clearer take on things


And sleep sounder in my bed

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

A think in Rome

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

Ostia Antica is great

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vow to Wow

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

Writing in Rome like a proper writer !

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

Here is a snippet:

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

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

Must dash

Round and Round the Colosseum We Go

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

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

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