Tripping the Light Fantastic

I have, as I always have; been tripping the light fantastic.

There is some new stock, but this newsletter is merely window dressing, a little foreplay before the main event, call it a drip feed.

I could employ a ‘fluffer’ to keep you all entertained, plumping pillows, stroking cashmere, but already I can feel your minds starting to wander. In a future life I may come back as a goldfish, anyway, where was I? Whoa… stop: side of the bowl!

Empire State

Empire State

Lest we forget

Lest we forget

To begin the beguine, I would like to thank everyone for their support on my little trip to New York. It was a pleasure to see you all, some old friends, and some new.

And I fell in love, her name is Erica, she’s not yet 2 and adorable. Sorry Henry!

As you can gather I will be planning many more jaunts to quench my thirst for wanderlust, and for those of you who are unsure, ‘wanderlust’ is not a cocktail. I can already see this newsletter will be full of explanations, definitions and double entendres, and that’s starting to confuse the spell checker.

I could sit around all day reading philosophy, pretending I understood Seneca, but as a goldfish I swim in shallower water. The world’s sfumatore is a grey mist, I am a child of blue skies, and talking of blue skies, I was back in Ibiza at the weekend.

Neil world famous tattooist invited me out for a few days cycling, he is a changed man, his days of partying are behind him, now it’s all carbon fibre (fiber for the Americans amongst you), gear ratios and black Lycra.

Two great, long rides in two days, the first included a stop for lunch at Puertas del Cielo. I may have had a slight accident afterwards, whilst I was standing still. Why are there always paparazzi around at moments like this?

Tumbling Dice

Tumbling Dice

The second ride was on the beautiful island of Formentera. I had always assumed that the island was entirely flat! Well it is; apart from the long climb up to the lighthouse at Pilar de la Mola.

Creative writing moment… I climbed the hill up to La Mola, my legs still heavy from the previous day’s exertions and the tarmac was dragging on my tyres in the heat, I navigated bend after bend as I made swift progress towards the summit. My thighs were starting to burn and I changed through the gears to keep my cadence steady, beads of sweat forming on my forehead, each turn led to another, the air thinning and filled with the scent of the pine trees, the tight Lycra clinging to me, fifty shades of blue, not much further… OK that’s enough, my mum might be reading this!!!

Torpedoes away

Torpedoes away

The Hills have Hills

The Hills have Hills

The Hills of Formentera

The Hills of Formentera

Neil always carries a spare banana in his Lycra… Stop it!

On the way down to El Faro de la Mola he ate the banana and discarded the skin at the side of the road. We stopped at the lighthouse and took some photos, Neil drank a ‘Red Bull’, tucked the empty can into the pocket on the back of his shirt, we turned round to head back to the village, and a well-deserved beer.

We had cycled a few hundred metres when I was passed by a Police car, lights and siren on. There must have been some sort of emergency, perhaps a lost dog; you know one of those toy ones which live in a handbag, maybe it had locked itself out!

BUT no, they were pulling Neil over.

The older policeman who had been driving was lecturing Neil about the illegal dumping of a banana skin. Neil was saying as it was ‘residuos biodegradables’ (hablo español), he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it and then produced the empty ‘Red Bull’ can from his pocket which he was going to recycle!

The younger policeman in the passenger seat was laughing the whole time.

He’d noticed that Neil was smoking a joint.

This could only happen on Ibiza.

Neil was let off with a reprimand and offered to go back and pick the discarded skin up.

Meanwhile he had sent me the location of a dead hedgehog we’d seen at the side of the road; someone would be back for that later, to add to Neil’s menagerie in formaldehyde!

He was in London at the end of last week for a Tatttoo Convention, a great success and I know he was here to pick up a few special things!

Sadly we missed each other as I was preforming live on stage, well not on stage per say, more I was approached by a number of groupies to produce my best Robin Williams impersonation.

Judge for yourself!

Batman or Robin?

Batman or Robin?


Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

St Valentine’s Day – Unchained

Well thank you Mr Grey this morning was thrown into chaos.

Several things I had planned failed to materialize because some people didn’t turn up!

So those amongst you who had forgotten their “safe-word”, I can never feel your pain.

How can you forget your safe word?

It’s not as though it needs to be 8 characters long, contain numbers, letters, capitals and a symbol or two……… Sorry my mind wandered and I started to have a Carol Vorderman moment. Nope, it’s not going away.

Think of a Countdown conundrum, it might help. No, that’s just made it worse.

Then there were those who were blushingly, “Sorry I’m late, I lost my keys”. These were the keys to what exactly?

By all accounts this will be the beginning of the threesome of books all being made into films, and means Valentine’s Day is all locked up for the next few years.

Not only florists, but now locksmiths will have a bumper day every year to look forward to.

As the late Larry Grayson nearly put it, “Oh what a Grey Day!”.


Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

A St Valentine’s Day Special

This particular newsletter is rated PG.

Which thankfully means there are no photos!

I have written this to all of those of you who have to be Jamie Oliver in the kitchen, David Gandy in the gym, as sensitive as Ted Zeff and a Christian Grey in the bedroom (or any other room, inside or out). Yes you get the picture, and I think to myself. Me? Me? Me?

I have been reliably informed that the restaurants of London will be empty tonight.

There’s a new boy in town and he’s wearing grey, quite a lot of grey, in fact to be precise 50 different shades.

Gone is the usual romantic dinner, where the last hour is spent fending off young men offering you roses in order that you can cement your love for the person who is sat opposite you. Or at least be like the cement, and get laid.

Apparently there are only two places to be this evening.

Firstly, at the Shadow Theatre Clarendon Street where a friend will be offering a Valentine theatrical treat in the form of a Kabuki production. A neighbour of his has been selling tickets ready for a play which can often involve grotesque masks and facial expressions, performed partly behind a blind with only the shadowy outline of the figures visible. I leave the rest to your imagination until the curtain comes up or down, depending on your perspective.

Secondly, and for the less squeamish amongst you, it seems that everybody else is off to see 50 Shades of Grey. Apart from someone who has now admitted to seeing it last night. Yes, you know who you are and despite stating the contrary I know you loved it!

Well, the things they don’t teach you round the back of the bike sheds at school these days.

Guys, I know one or two of you feel press ganged into this. No, I mean press ganged!

Oooh, the minds of some of you! Anyway, if you don’t want to be recognised wear one of the Kabuki masks, and then you can nip round to the Shadow Theatre later!

If the worst comes to the worst and you find yourself slightly incapacitated, imagine you are Bond. No, no, no.

Not tied to a chair being assaulted by a person with a length of knotted rope, which I know may work for one or two of you. Rather act out a scene from 50 Shades.

And if you are in real trouble it may be time to use the last resort of any spy worth his salt in this predicament and bite down hard on that molar. No, not the one containing the cyanide things aren’t that bad yet, but the one containing the emergency Blue pill, and ‘Hey Presto’ you are ready for action!

That is apart from J, I use only his initial, if I used his full name it would make it too obvious who this person is. J turns up in the shop every time he gets stood up by whichever boy or girl he has a date with, bottle of white wine in hand, telling me that I’m all he has left.

Now this is someone who should be press ganged aboard a boat, but this one needs no second invitation!

I personally will be auditioning for 50 Shades of Just for Men, the sequel, and yes it will involve my wearing 50 shades of Lycra.

I hope you all have wonderful evening with the one you love, and may cup of love runneth over.

Vash pour me another!


Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.