|
(A little something I wrote in 2009) I’ve always liked travel. Come to think of it, I’ve always liked women, too. I happen to be in Zagreb, Croatia…and the ravishing Ivana is my city guide. The situation could hardly be improved: the city is beguiling, and Ivana’s sleeveless red frock swirls tastefully, tantalisingly around her…
It was a shambles. Trucks loaded with U2’s equipment were peeling off in different directions: left, right and centre like the Wacky Races. Hapless colleagues were led through the centre of St. Petersburg; others were seen heading the wrong way round the ring road. Oh, what a rigmarole. It became increasingly clear that our armed…
WHY DO WE HAVE RUSSIAN ARMED ESCORTS? Rock and roll trucks are always assigned security cars in Russia. But why? Will we otherwise be overrun with marauding bandits? It’s difficult to say, because every time I’ve driven to Russia I’ve had an armed escort. On each occasion I noticed no impoverished brigands lurking in the…
You wouldn’t believe how long it’s taking me to import blogs to this site from last year. And every now and again, I find a spot of text that deserves to blight the front page once more. This is from Christmas ’09 and celebrates the presence in my life of a certain South African: Who…
I’m disheartened. The “Helsinki Experiment” – tarrying in bars, hoping to be approached by fruity, Finnish girls – failed miserably. Yep, that pitch to the editor of FHM, announcing Finland as a manifestly viable destination for sex tourists, might as well be scrapped. Still, onwards and upwards – I’m not beaten yet. It’s just that…
This was written last year. I’m in the process of transferring old blogs over to this site…so do scroll back through the archives occasionally: I don’t know what happens in the other trucks – well, Namibian, of course, will be uttering banalities nineteen to the dozen to his double-driver – but, on our drive up…
I apologise for the delay since the last post. Obviously I’ve been busy – stumbling uncertainly out of the Premier Inn after a gallon of Baileys, for example – but I’ve been distracted, too. Subtract the Antarctica campaign, and mixing with former A-list celebrities in Polish jazz clubs, and what are we left with: a…
