May Newsletter 2016

Mothers!

Mine will be 88 in a few weeks. So I felt it might be a good idea to spend a few days with her because on the actual day I will no doubt be in Ibiza, celebrating it on her behalf!

However, the weekend did create a few interesting moments.

Some of you will have heard me tell of her epic levels of fitness, and the 80 steps she climbs at least once a day to her front door. It is not a pilgrimage worshipped, but a trip to recycle the empties! She’d raise a glass to that.

In my case, the grape didn’t fall far from the vine.

Living in Somerset, getting around can be problematic, the local bus company has just gone bust and taxis are few and far between. So if my brother and I are ‘Casa Mama’ she likes to get out and about.

This last weekend was glorious, long days, cloudless skies and warm sunshine.

On the Monday we went to the Valley of the Rocks in Lynton and my mother decided she was going to walk the South West Coast Path. The path although tarmacked, is only 3 feet wide with a sheer drop of 300 feet to the sea below on one side, and has no railing. Mum set off at a pace that would have Paula Radcliffe breathing hard.

Valley of the Rocks - The South West Coast Path

Valley of the Rocks – The South West Coast Path

What I have failed to mention is that my mother suffers from Macular Degeneration and carries a white stick at all times! It is known as the ‘Nutkin Slayer’ due to the number of squirrels that have perished at its hand. When I ask mum about the state of her eyesight she pulls the Donald Pleasance trick from ‘The Great Escape’, I can’t tell you how many damn pins I have stood on in her kitchen.

I jogged along at her shoulder for well over a mile ensuring she didn’t make a hasty Brexit, then she ignored my offer of directions and we ended up a mile from the car. This lady wasn’t for turning, so whilst she sat and sipped a cup of Earl Grey, I jogged back to fetch it.

Mother, you want to walk WHERE?

Mother, you want to walk WHERE?

We adjourned for lunch at The Black Venus in Challacombe, and before you ask she wasn’t the one of the ‘Three Graces’ that was banished for bad behaviour. It is a lovely pub, with wonderful food, and great service.

http://blackvenusinn.co.uk

I have oft complained that there is nowhere local to my mother for a decent meal, but it seems times have changed. OK, my mother doesn’t drive; thankfully, and Challacombe is too far to go for an evening meal, however it was a wonderful treat for us.

On the list next time for mum and a must, is Reeves in Dunster. Absolutely fantastic is all I can say; the fact the sun was shining and we were sat in a walled garden dating back to the Norman Conquest looking at Dunster Castle only added to the pleasure of it. I shall pack mum into a taxi, or worse still get one of her octogenarian friends to drive her, the Yarn Market opposite has been standing for nearly a millennium, what could happen?

http://www.reevesrestaurantdunster.co.uk
At least you’ll read about it here!

Before you ask, I have been abroad this month; I may have been to Ibiza. 

Yes OK, twist my arm, it’s where I started the month. But now you’ve got me started!

Haircut?

Haircut?

My friends had a suitable haircut after last year, the marina is still the tripping hazard it always was. Oh, come on; not like that.

Queen Scratch

Queen Scratch

Neil and Scratch are on amazing form. The master continues to ply his trade, and I am starting to see shoots of maturity in his behaviour. He has taken up cycling, although from our conversations, it seems he is cycling mainly downhill. We lunched at Puerto de Cielo, a chiringuito perched high on a cliff near to San Antonio, a far flung place, yet sat on the next table was a client of mine from Miami. I am now world famous (I know not for what!), but you are now reading this odd little ditty in 117 countries. Reading may be too strong a word, but the pictures do paint a thousand emoticons! 😉

The mighty man at work. His genius is his art.

Inkadelic

Inkadelic

We Club Tropicana’d it at Pikes for an afternoon before I allowed Neil to do a little work.

Is that the Bus Stop?

Is that the Bus Stop?

The following day I left Ibiza and headed for Mallorca for 24 hours, and our new cycling base. Adam you have duped me once too often, not satisfied with the Velcro running suit, you tempted me with…. I’d rather not say! Well OK, a spa and a Raki massage. The voice plays tricks on the ears on a mobile phone! It turned out to be 24 hours of Ikea, first in the store and then constructing chest of drawers, after chest of drawers and Adam stood over me, stop watch in hand. I left a broken man, but at least with all my parts intact!

However there is a German Schloss devoid of 15ft of BB Italia leather sofa, tables and chairs, how all that fell off the back of lorry I’ll never know!

My feet had barely touched the ground, when I headed for Florence and Milan. Cloth from Andrea for a lucky few and Milan for ties.

So ice cream… Ooops

Fondente!

Fondente!

Photos of Monica Bellucci. 

SPQR - Monica Bellucci

SPQR – Monica Bellucci

Try saying it.

Sapphire rings.

Should have put a ring on it...

Should have put a ring on it…

Wake up, I’ve not finished yet!

I stayed at Fifty Eight Suite in Milan. Guys, superb thank you so very much. Comfort and style in the centre of Milan.

http://www.fiftyeightmilano.it

On the way back

On the way back

So into the finishing straight.

May has also been cultural. An evening of Mozart’s Requiem, by candlelight in St. Martin’s in the Fields and a scary afternoon watching of watching a dozen Punch and Judy shows, tucked away in Covent Garden. Oh no you didn’t, Oh yes I did, and I have the mental scars to prove it!

Mozart - He shoots, he scores

Mozart – He shoots, he scores


Mental Scars

Mental Scars

A little stock, for those who are interested, the beach towels are back and at least you can dry the rain off, if you don’t get to lie in the sun! For those of you who are that way inclined, or prone to lying down…

Carp Beach Towel - SOLD OUT

Carp Beach Towel – SOLD OUT


Crane Beach Towel

Crane Beach Towel

As it was a Sundae I went to The Colony Grill at The Beaumont Hotel, and as if by magic this appeared.

Sundae Lunch

Sundae Lunch

Finally I leave with one of my mother’s gems. We were talking culture, well, mum was talking and I was nodding as if to show a faint understanding of what she was talking about. In discussion she spoke of Keneth Brannagh, and how he has moved on and his mantle is now being carried by the likes of ‘Cummerbitch’…

After those of you who thought last month’s photo was of me, this is not my Mother!

Not Mother!

Not Mother!

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Updated!!!!! – December Newsletter 2015 – Io Sono Amore

Io Sono Amore, I am Love.

An admirer sent me a film for Christmas.

Yes I do have an admirer. OK, OK, they are more of a stalker, but beggars can’t be choosers, and after Siri and Cortana anything is a bonus, but they did keep me company whilst updating to Windows 10.

Apparently in my apricot cashmere sweater I look like Tilda Swinton in the aforementioned film!!! Are you blind?

I am starting to get very worried, I suppose it could be worse, I could be the bunny in Fatal Attraction when I’d rather be dancing with Jessica Rabbit, or cuddled up under a throw with Pussy Galore.

If you are not interested in football, go off and make a cup of green tea now. Yes, I know it’s the written word so this will still be here when you get back, soldier on it’s not that bad.

Woe betide anyone who ventures across my path, Zoro has my back. Poor little Sepp appeared for his press conference sporting what could have been a duelling scar, or a souvenir from Saint Nick who takes no prisoners with the bad boys this time of year.

No one slaps me on the cheek with a white kid glove and gets away with it! On the other hand it could have been the spoke of an umbrella wielded by a very small person associated with Michel ‘The Bulgar’ Plantini. However as Sepp ‘The Mushroom’ is still with us, we will have to assume the former.

Zoro

Zoro

Player power seems to be putting an end to managerial careers here, there and everywhere. Jose, poor Jose, and Luis Van Gaal, both appear to be suffering or have suffered from this ague. To give you a special insight into the everyday struggles in their world I managed to sneak into the Chelsea dressing room, and the Manchester United car park to see what has been going on.

It has been suggested that Simon Cowell is being lined up by Roman to replace Jose in the long term, make-up artists to replace club doctors and Julio Iglesias will take over from Rafa Benitez at Real Madrid, “When I begin, the beguine…….”

Chelsea?

Chelsea?

 

Stretford End?

Stretford End?

Then there is the referee Howard Webb, who said that there were fewer poor decisions made by referees on Boxing Day because they were chauffeured to their games. So not having to make a decision whether to turn left or right on their way to the game meant they were less stressed and improved their performance. I refer to my earlier posts about referees and as Aristotle said, ‘Quod erat demonstrandum’.

Now we need to spare a thought for young Luke Jake. It’s not about the parlous state of things at Wolves which we will gloss over using a matt finish, but about his attempt in true ‘Likely Lads’ fashion to avoid any mention of what might have happened in Star Wars XXIII, ‘The Force goes back to sleep again’.

He’s been walking round for weeks wearing noise cancelling headphones customized to look like antlers, and if by some terrible twist of fate he’s not had them on, just at the mere mention of his name, Luke Jake has stuck his fingers in his ears and started singing La, La, La as if he were Naughty Boy.

He has now seen the film, he seems much calmer.

I have been a busy boy, and, please don’t choke on your Corn Flakes. By ‘boy’ I mean it as a turn of phrase, not that I view myself as such. Although between the ‘potions’ and the silken hands of Raoul my therapist, I resemble a young Liberace!

I have been circumnavigating the globe, Florence, Bologna and Hong Kong, in a week. So Sam, dry your eyes I now have enough miles for a free latte in Waitrose.

Hong Kong

Hong Kong

Hong Kong was a ‘Coals to Newcastle’ trip, to catch up with several VIPs, see Chic and Niles Rodgers, rub Udderbelly, and see the Anthony Gormley sculptures. It was short, intense and fun.

Chic

Chic

All set for a little cocktail party in my suite, and some dealings with the Carnie Folk.

Martini

Martini

Macaroons

Macaroons

I would like to thank everyone at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental for their magnificent hospitality and incredible levels of service, which all made it a very enjoyable and successful trip.

I will be back….

Apologies to anybody who got a scarf  for Christmas, that was way off. I have spent the Christmas period sporting a production sample of our new ‘Rudolph Mankini’, complete with red nose.

Top 10 presents I was made aware of this Christmas:

1: Dry Stone wall building course.

2: A delivery bike for a Volpe be-suited friend whose job it is to deliver his wife’s exotic, baked creations to cafes around our great metropolis.

3: A month’s adoption of a Mayfly for September!

4: A second eighth of a Cow, which made it a quarter.

5: A pint of double cream, because apparently he always forgets to buy it for the Christmas pudding.

6: Also a recipe for Bubble ‘n Squeak, sorry, sorry, a signed copy of Macbeth. Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and caldron bubble…. Back to the Premiership I see.

7: A Fashion Magazine in Chinese for an 11 year old nephew.

8: The Sepp close shave, heal that nick kit!

9: A new songwriter for Robbie Williams. I know, who he?

10: A new pair of spectacles for a football referee, according to Luke Jake it’s any of them.

11: A scarf?

As always I like to help a friend, and he offered me the car in exchange for this little uplift, I’m now headed for the Manchester United car park!

http://verticalproductions.co.uk/portfolio-items/new-audi-r8-v10-promo-2015/

As you all wonder how these get written, here is a further insight into my wonderful world. I’d like to thank Lyle Lovett for writing some of my favourite lyrics, and for showing that anything is possible; he was after all married to Julia Roberts.

If I had a boat I’d sail out on the ocean, and if I had a pony I’d ride it on my boat.

 

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

August Bank Holiday Newsletter 2015

So let’s open this month with the closure of the transfer window.

You could say a window closes only for a trapdoor to open to others, and a ‘lock in’ for one David who has met his De Goliath. For some it’s been the dream of a lifetime, but it’s seems for a few it has been a coat of technicolour nightmares.

The sums of money involved may only buy a small pied-a-terre in Clapham, and apparently this is where David de Gea will be spending his season after getting his foot trapped in the revolving door that is the transfer window.

Perhaps Real Madrid misunderstood the mañana culture, and thought tomorrow was another day.

United now have more goalkeepers than strikers, Chelsea have… Well no-one of any consequence, OK, OK a donkey called Pedro, and are the fans falling out of love with Jose?

A friend has stopped sleeping in her onesie such is her displeasure, and she loved Jose, a love that she hoped that would endure beyond Christmas, as a manger is not just for Christmas. Manchester City have already won the title now they have disposed of Edin Djecko.

So far, I have not mentioned one English player or coach in that last little histoire.

So spare a thought for the youth of today, because children are our future, a good example being Miles Storey. Who he? You might ask. Born and raised in West Bromwich, not the greatest start in life, but the under-19 England International who doesn’t seem to have been able to get his feet under a breakfast table anywhere. Out on loan at Salisbury City, Shrewsbury Town, Portsmouth, Newport County, but no Village Hall side, he has now been loaned to footballs equivalent of Siberia, Inverness Caledonian Thistle. He’s not even the club doctor! Proving that being a professional footballer isn’t all about the glamour!

Perhaps he could join the 9 sperm donors at Britain’s Sperm Bank, by all accounts they are all referees, well you know how the song goes.

Our bank is sorely lacking in donors since the law was changed so that the identity of the donor can be disclosed. Back to the song!

We are being encouraged to do it the way the Danish do it; what do they do differently?They proudly say, this is the Viking invasion, exports from Denmark are beer, Lego and sperm. It’s a source of pride.

They left out bacon and associated pork products, and I am reminded of Rebecca Loos. At least the French only replaced steak with horse meat. Think of the Danish consequences!

We are surrounded by the titans of Northern Europe. The Danes and their banking system, the Germans and their sausages and the grandest saveloy of them all Vladimir Putin.

A small group of scientists are holed up in a cabin inside the Arctic Circle, trapped by an aurora of Polar Bears walking around growling outside, not a laughing matter, the scientists are only armed with only a flare gun and ‘pooh sticks’, which has not struck the fear of God into the bears.

However the scientist’s plight is about to get worse. It’s a slow news day in Russia, and Vlad has seen another photo opportunity to raise his masculinity to new heights, he is headed off to save the scientists and wrestle shirtless with the Polar Bears.

Goodness, I hope none of the bears are Gay, you know Vlad’s thoughts on that, and Darren’s bear hunting joke. It’s just reminded me of the end of the film ‘Trading Places’!

I have been away for a few days, not my usual Ibiza month long Party, Party, Party. I spent this time meditating in solitude, high in the hills in Mallorca. My monastic existence involved me walking down to a “beach” on a spur of land called Foradada, 5km away and 450m below.

Foradada

Foradada

I donned my aged and trusty Five Fingers, and headed out. Down and down through the lush pine forest I descended, the dusty, pebbled path in 35C heat was quite pleasant, but the Five Fingers weren’t ideal for this.

After nearly an hour I arrived at the cove, to find quite a large restaurant. Lunch I thought. I asked the waiter if there was room for a solitary, weary traveller. “I’m sorry Sir, we are fully booked, but you can have a drink at the bar”, he replied. I was slightly taken aback, I’m pretty fit and although I do possess some Super-Human powers (see last newsletter), it was a tough walk down, but was going to be a much tougher walk back after lunch. How were they going to fill all those tables?

“All our clients arrive by boat”, he explained.

Invigorated by a coffee and a beer, I decided I would jog back to the top!

http://www.saforadada.com

After my physical exertions, I descended onto the flatter parts of the island in search further peace and quiet, and one of my favourite vinicolas, 4Kilos in Felatnitx. They produce a fabulous red wine called 12 Volts.

4 kilos

4 kilos

Then it was onto Pollenca to discuss with our decorator the required elements for the new cycling venture we are preparing as Winter base for you all. Perhaps ‘Team Volpe’ will soon be rivalling Sky?

Later that day I wandered along a white, sandy beach, turquoise water to my right…….hundreds of yards of nature ists to my left! My karma was left in tatters, why is it those who shouldn’t be, are?

I escaped into Palma to have dinner with Ivan, Alvaro and Lara. Ian and Lara have set up a lovely Vinoteca in Carrer de Pou, called ‘Wine Industry’, stocked with predominantly local wines and great food. I have known Ivan and Alvaro for many years, form the heady days of Guaraña at Salinas, when Alvaro was a hairdresser! Private joke at Ivan’s expense, and when Martin watching was all the girls favourite pastime. It was like watching dominoes turning as he strode along the beach.

Wine Industry

Wine Industry

Earlier in the month I embarked upon a Roman Holiday. Well I wandered down to Somerset House with friends and lay on the cold cobbles to watch the film.

Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday

Beneath brooding skies.

Brooding Skies

Brooding Skies

And that is my last word on our summer. Blink and you’ll miss it!

I shall end with my 10 favourite collective nouns:

1: A class of students

2: A mob of kangaroos

3: A murder of lawyers

4: A wad of bills

5: A phantasmagoria of phantoms

6: A shrivel of critics

7: A flight of stairs

8: An illusion of magicians

9: A den of thieves

10: A disguising of tailors

Splinter

Splinter

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

April 2013 – Newsletter

So today was one of those rare ornithological moments. In the words of Monty Python, beautiful plumage, but it’s just resting. I could ask Jake to recite the rest, but he’s still in shock. Traitor, I hear you all shout in unison. Why because he won 60 squid betting against his own team, the mighty Wolves, however we’ll come back to that.

Ever with my binoculars at the ready, spotted in full flight this morning, in its natural surroundings, the lesser spotted Jason. So often now it seems to prefer a more secluded office environment, but Marie and I were treated to a brief view of his immaculate feathers in The Wolseley.  There was a brief courtship between him and the even rarer, lesser spotted Jayne, but if you know the history, Jason’s mere presence close to the nest may result in more than we bargained for. If you don’t know the history, you’re just going to have to look it up.

Michael is moving back home. After several months living away from his toaster, he is returning. Fresh Prince of Bel Air, with a new roof terrace, once again his neighbours can be treated to the kind of antics that would make Caligula blush. This time rather than from behind his blinds we all may be treated to ‘Babes in the Wood’ from behind frosted glass. Feed me another grape please.

Please note, Michael has been dieting and working out for his next performance. He has taken to walking round the shop in the tiniest of shorts flexing his muscles and shouting “Beefcake” a la Cartman. I’m really starting to worry what he may be putting in the protein shakes.

Really I don’t want a “Roid Rage” incident in the shop, someone suggested rohypnol. It’s bad enough with me when I’m highly strung. Yes I know, not highly enough I hear some or all of you say.

Except the truth is always blurred, and Michael is a delightful fellow.

My weekend was taken up once again with preparing the VAT. Oh yawn, but I did go and see Iron Man 3 in 3D. I really enjoyed it, however the 3D was rubbish, and Sir Ben stole the show as “The Mandarin”. Gwynnie looked great, but then there’s a little history there!

Inside us all, there is a thespian trying to get out. I’m sure Jake will have to go back to treading the boards. It looks like he will need something to distract him from the ignominy of League One football. I know that many of you like to strike up a conversation with him about football.

A suggestion; for the moment – don’t. You see he’s hurtin’ bad, on so many levels. He mourns the passing of the ‘Great McCarthy’, the money wasted on a new stand, where next season they’ll be shooting “One Man and His Dog”. He’s been hangdog enough for the last week, and to strike up a conversation may be a step too far.

But, let’s not forget spring is here. David has broken out the shorts. Now pale, even white legs I can understand, but David’s are still a worrying shade of blue and it’s not woad. He’s a Chelsea supporter and even that wouldn’t account for it, but like all football supporters it’s OK one minute and not the next.

Eventually the warm weather will get here and we can all warm our tired, old bones. I can turn that particular shade of orange that I always go. I will face the sun at noon, and chant in unison via Skype with Neil, and even Eugene, if he’s got time to stop partying.

Like all prayers, we’ll be asking for something, without actually asking for it. Let the summer be long, sunny and hot, like the shorts you all should be wearing.

Let’s hope that they get close to your knees, no “Daisy Duke’s” for the guys, and don’t forget to wash your feet and have a pedicure. Wear driving shoes in town and save the flip-flops for the beach or the park. Perhaps paint each of the toenails a different colour it’s a look I espouse, and it keeps people at more than an arms-length in the gym. Well when you’re in the kind of shape I’m in, all attention is unwanted and unrequired. Believe that you’ll believe anything, just give me a chance to rip my shirt off and run Matthew McConaughey style for a bus. Tony, don’t record that for YouTube, please!

Anyway, I’m a vain old sod, and I don’t care. They’ll come a time when I may have to resort to a Zimmer Frame, meanwhile I have 95 year old aunt who lives in a caravan in a field and hitch-hikes everywhere. No, it has nothing to do with longevity it’s about the madness in the genes.

At last the truth is beginning to surface.

Let’s round this off with a visit from Sunil. You know he’s the one who wakes me at all hours with a text to ask me what I’m doing. Well normally at that time of day I’m sleeping, like everybody else in my time zone. He picked up a cashmere cap to match his cape, I joked about a bobble for it in Chinchilla, and he shot me a look, as if to say “are you crazy”? When what he really meant was; why didn’t I think of that? He was happy with his blue cashmere over shirt. Sunil, you live in the Middle East, why?

Exactly, there is a little madness in us all. Sometimes it is more evident than others, but as long as we nurture it, never lose it, don’t let it run around unchecked, there won’t be too much chance that we’ll get arrested, or worse…….

Lastly, two quotes:

1: You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it. – Robin Williams (How did he get in here, separated at birth?)

Jake's handy work!

Jake’s handy work!

2: There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness. – Friedrich Nietzsche

Copyright © 2013 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

August 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

Well dear Rob has left us to set up his guest house in Fez (Morocco, for those of you who didn’t pass geography). Apparently he always read the newsletters, and by all accounts enjoyed them. Are there no levels to which people will not stoop for a mention?  I wish him very good luck, he deserves you all to go and visit him, and once he is set up I will pass on the details. His place has been taken at The Wolseley by Jayne, who admitted to me she was a little worried she wouldn’t receive the newsletter. Because although Rob had been enjoying them, I feel it had been a solitary pleasure. But Jayne have no fear, you even get a mention.

The footie season is upon us again, and for those of you who play fantasy football I’m yet to work out where the fantasy ends and reality begins. Don’t do as Jake has done and pick the entire Wolves team, pleased as punch to get it in under budget and then likely to sink without trace. David, on the other hand, can’t understand that there is a cap on the value of the team, but then he is a Chelsea supporter and hence no sense of value for money. Fashion note: he’s still wearing his shorts but teamed with a fetching pair of Volpe driving shoes, now sadly beyond repair.

Mark Williams is a good friend (and since we are plugging, owns a courier business). He has expressed his joy at receiving the news letter, but what makes him different to you whingers out there, is that he reads them on his Blackberry with no problem. So  the rest of you can grow up.

I am of course lying on a sun-lounger on a beach in Ibiza, flunkies running hither and thither, seeing to my every need. The newsletter is being dictated (Mark H, it’s not what you think) to my less enthusiastic PA. She hangs on my every word, with a look that suggests it may be my last. The more observant of you may have noticed that the chairs in the shop are only for customers; staff are expected to stand and make themselves look busy.

I do it myself but I’m on holiday and I’m giving my gout a rest. But she can stand, and I don’t care if the sand is burning her feet. She should have thought better than to bring Birkenstocks which I confiscated immediately for being dreadful.

Really, the staff should know their place, and if not should expect a damn good thrashing. When I get back the first thing I’m going to do is call little Nick Clegg who has been given the special task of taking calls from the public about laws that particularly bother them. In my first job being singled out for that kind of attention was more a subtle form of punishment than honour.

I’m taking to this new coalition and its sharp-elbowed middle-classness.

I, of course am not Staycationing in Cornwall, you know one rule for me, and a different one for everybody else. But if you were to, I know you can feel a plug coming on, you could do worse than to visit Sennen Cove where my friend Pat Dowling has a restaurant and surf shop  right on the beach.

Live update:

This is going to be a long news letter.

At this moment (could be any time of day or night because we’re 24 hour party people) I’m sitting in a square in Ibiza with Neil who is giving me grief over the following; not appearing in the last newsletter, a particular shape of glass that a green cocktail has arrived in which signifies everything that’s wrong with the world, and more importantly backing out of having my tattoo on my last visit.

“Pussy whipped” is the expression he used, whilst demonstrating his own manliness by giving me Ray Mears-style survival advice involving finding north by closely examining lichen and how to tell how many hours of daylight are left without a watch. Why anyone wouldn’t have a watch is beyond me. He is of course, artistic but tells the time by use of a mobile.

Later……the conversation turns to ebay. Now Neil and I both use it from time to time, but when I explained I used a sniping tool, Neil nearly fell off his chair with rage. All those hours he has spent waiting and waiting, staying up into the small hours with the help of some Pro-Plus only to be outbid in the dying seconds by someone who’s tucked up in bed using technology to do the dirty work.

I tried to explain that this was progress like penicillin and the wheel, but to Neil, it was CHEATING.

I resolve in future to take a lot of drugs and stay awake……like those of you at the back.

Neil is a peaceful man interested in Buddhism and Tibet. But we have seen a darker side in his battle with the pigeons, who want to share his apartment breaking glasses and crashing into the ceiling fan like the kind of lively guests we all get from time to time.

He has bought an air rifle and is exacting terrible revenge. I suggested a balaclava to complete the look but in orange to protect his Karma.

More to follow…..

 

Copyright © 2010 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

March 2010 – Volpe Newsletter

March has arrived and preparations, or at least media speculation for the World Cup is in full swing. I’ll leave discussing the General Election until next month. It will guarantee that I have something to write about, and perhaps someone on one side or the other will have decided what they might want to do once they have charge of the piggy bank and the hammer.

My apologies if you do not share our obsession with the failure with the English national side. If it makes it easier, Scots aside, it would be as easy to insert any national side instead of our own, and in place of the World Cup, your competition of choice. I am sure the sentiments would be the same. Unless of course you are Canadian, and contrive to ensure that the playing surface suits only your team, and in the case of Americans, games that only you play.

After all, we are talking of infighting in the squad, last minute injuries to key players and before long an incident in a nightclub involving, well I can only leave you to guess. Fingers crossed and just hope that Wayne Rooney’s monthly salary, which is far too large to write on the back of a postage stamp is enough to keep him motivated. What does sound greater the current rumoured £150,000 per week or £600,000 per month? We revel in the vain hope that we may win if only, everything and luck is on our side, that Stevie G and Fat Frank can play together because it’s clear that John and Bridgie can’t and now won’t, or only with each other’s toys. And of course that the WAGS stay in Sun City, perhaps, happy in the company of lifeguards, waiters and pool boys, apologies if these are among your chosen professions I do not wish this suffering upon you.

As you know from the last news letter I recently travelled to Milan. I stayed in some apartments close to the Duomo, and the Galleria. It’s many years since I have visited this fair city; more like, I’ve tried to avoid it as best I can. As I suspected Milan still has little to offer me, and I have oft complained that the cities in Italy empty in the evening leaving a weary visitor few places to enjoy, and the best places to eat are well outside the city. It was a great culinary festival known as Milan Fashion Week, Internationale versus Chelsea and the apartments next door were rumoured to be full of models. This offered a distant glimmer of fun. In a word: No. The trip only got better when the French air traffic controllers’ strike delayed my flight back and I spent a couple of hours on the tarmac at Malpensa, and what’s in a name?

Anyway, back to the burden of celebrity, I imagine that means “well known”. Well let me explain you’re not, and you know who you are. No I’m not being a bully, and talented means “offering a skill of some value”. Let me explain Panto doesn’t count, and in your case your best is definitely behind you, you know, behind you. Sometimes it just passes over their head.

Since it’s the first thing that most people discuss with me, and it is an English obsession: the weather. Yes, it has been cold, and no I can’t do anything about it. Of course I’d rather be on the beach in Ibiza, but the weather is no better there. If I was there I would have my friend Neil (The Tattooist), and his problems with his sciatica, for company. No, I’m not being selfish. I remember what I was like with my gout but I just wouldn’t want to sit around like a grumpy old gits discussing our health.

STOP PRESS: What did I say, poor little David now needs an operation and looks like he’ll miss the World Cup, but it does mean that now there’ll be no way of getting away from Victoria….

Whether the Weather:

1: As I said, I can’t do anything about it, and no, I’m not going to do that stupid dance, just in case. We have the Morris Dancers for that.

2: The first day of spring is March 21st, we’re not there yet….

3: British Airways are going on strike, so the chances of getting away now rely upon collective Willie waving.

4: The clouds on the horizon really are clouds, not some metaphor for the economic climate, which appears overcast and foggy, and the long term forecast has been dropped.

5: Don’t just look at holiday brochures: book something. You know a holiday at home isn’t going to be good enough and it won’t be any cheaper. You tried it last year and all you did was moan about the cost of things.

6: Look, I had a part time job at Butlin’s, trust me I know….

7: No, Pontins, Warners or Centre Parcs aren’t going to be any better. Get some vitamin D, rickets is thing of the past.

8: Sorry I just had to stop for a moment and warm my hands over the candle. Well you wouldn’t be able to read my scratchy handwriting.

9: And the first day of summer is June 21st, so try and hold back on the shorts and the Birkenstocks please, even though the sun might make an appearance today.

10: After all that lovely cold weather put paid to all those horrible germs that you carry around.

11: Boys and girls, spring also heralds the beginning of “Duran Watch”. You know you’ve been waiting for it, and those of you who know Duran, will be watching…

12: Soon it’ be time for those intimate waxings, named after faraway places, Hollywood, Brazil, Las Vegas and Land’s End.

13: Unless you really want to attract my friend Hogan, who is very hirsute in his pursuit

14: JLS will release a cover of Seasons in the Sun, and for Jake’s benefit we will be buying him a box set of Cafe Del Mar, he loves it so much…..

 

Copyright © 2010 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.