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.

Mid-January 2013 – Volpe Newsletter

So I thought I’d get one out early.

Struck down by ‘Norovirus’ for New Year, I can only expect better for the rest of the year……. Anyway I’ve washed my hands of last year. It’s over.

A little good news for the end of last year, Eugenia married Ricardo, and they have returned to married bliss in Nicaragua. Gen, I hope you did a background check on the young man. Is he in the import/export business?

For those of you reading this via the blog page on the website, you will be able to see a photo of the lovely couple.

Ricardo and Eugenia.....Aaaaahhhh

Ricardo and Eugenia…..Aaaaahhhh

Anyway, as you remember Eugenia is the young lady that I was able to pick up by her ears! But, Gen is best known for her affinity with animals, she brings out the best of them. Many when in close proximity to her have decided they can have a little nibble.

On a trip we will describe as her ‘hen do’, she got a little too close to a monkey. The monkey must have been on something (It was of course in Nicaragua), it sneezed and after opening its eyes, spied the innocent Eugenia. At this point it launched into a manic assault in that flappy, kind of ineffectual kind way that some creatures do. Realising that Eugenia was a bit of veteran to this kind of thing, it then bit her on the leg. All of this was captured on camera and is available on Youtube if you know where to look.

She offered to show me the bite, but I am a timid soul and declined. She seems OK, but I’m not sure whether Ricardo should worry, she was foaming slightly at the mouth when she said “I do”.

Ricardo did tell me that on the honeymoon, an elephant started to take an interest in her, but then she did that thing that she does with her hair, and seeing a relative, it went serenely on its way.

I feel that I have not lost a daughter, but gained another way of accessing the US.

Talking of animal confrontations, my mother who lives on a hillside in Somerset was walking in the woods just before Christmas, when she was startled by a squirrel. In the ensuing melee she fell and broke her right arm. I’m not sure I believe her version! Although this happened fairly early in the morning, I’m pretty certain she’d been out to the still to check on the latest batch of hooch, Scrumpy to those of you who have tried it. If not she would have dispatched the squirrel with her white stick.

Congratulations to Sam on your promotion. I didn’t think you could go any higher, but once again you have proved me wrong. The new position includes a private jet in the air 24 hours a day, 365 days a year circling above his current location in order to whisk of him to the other side of the world for a 15 minute face to face meeting. When does living the dream turn into a nightmare? Is it a “Dreamliner”?

I returned to the shop on the 27th to find Mark curled up asleep outside the front door, thumb gently lodged in his mouth. I didn’t have the heart to wake him, but he forms a formidable obstruction, and I had work to do. Christmas had turned into a bit of a bender. He’d run out of booze at home and knew that he had a bottle of brandy in the shop for his personal consumption. He is the only person I know who sobers up the more he drinks! At least one of his New Year’s resolutions was not to give up alcohol or partying.

Jake has already broken his resolution, not to talk about Wolves, but he was ecstatic to have won £15 betting against his own side. Then he had an attack of conscience and felt he couldn’t do it again. Son, you could be rich, rich, rich.

 

Copyright © 2013 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

December 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

OK. So I didn’t get this out before Christmas.

I could give you all sorts of excuses.

1: Duran’s pet Chihuahua, “Elvis” ate my first draught.

2: I was abducted by aliens.

3: Every single computer where the original version of this was stored crashed, deleting all my work.

But, the truth is that I have only just surfaced.

Why, you might ask? Well I hid under the bed for a few days. You can’t be too careful what with the end of the world and all that. I managed to finish the ark I was building out of matchsticks, but then I couldn’t get it out of the bottle I’d built it in.

On the outside of the bottle, it did say “drink me”, and some of you who know me, know I can’t resist a challenge. Suddenly I was the size of a sugar mouse and I didn’t like the look of the Cheshire Cat.

So there it is. I stayed there until the effects of the hallucinogens had worn off. I missed Christmas and all the trimmings. I can only be glad I didn’t think I was a turkey or the Parson’s nose. Oh, the ignominy.

But now I’m starting to worry about the fiscal cliff. We have only 24 hours to save the world. How many times must we cry wolf, before we are all eaten? When close to the edge, I always feel like jumping.

Please hasten in the New Year when all will be serene, and I will feel less like a lemming. Then I started to think what lovely coats they’d all make, and I began to relax, and all was right with the world again.

Michael has headed for a beach with “Old Wood” in hand. On this beach they have a strict dress code. I’d tell you where it was, but I know you’d all be on the first plane there. He has threatened to thwart the dress code; Speedos are banned, but he has been honing his entire physique for a moment like this, and woe be tide anyone who stands in his way. Whoa Michael, don’t scare the horses! It reminds of the joke about making a horse laugh. You can look it up if you want? I’m not telling you here!

Those of you I have seen this year, or spoken too, or emailed, thank you. Also those of you, who have commented positively on ramblings, thank you. Those of you who were less than complimentary, also, thank you. I was glad I could get under your skin.

Thanks to Jason, Jayne and all the crowd at The Wolseley, to Vash, Michael, Darren, Suhul, Sunil, Mark and anyone I might have forgotten (OK Jake), I could mention so many more, but I am starting to well up like an Oscar acceptance speech, and we do only have 24 hours to save the world.

I know President Obama and ‘Dear Silvio’ will be reading this and they both have more important tasks in hand. The former the fiscal cliff, and the latter, well let’s not go there, but he’ll be back.

Normally I would make a list of all the resolutions you have imparted to me, but this year I think I will wait until the end of January when so many will be covered in glorious failure, and I can selfishly recount each one writ large in the newsletter.

Whatever your resolutions will be I wish you luck with them. I only have my best interests at heart. Remember I have a newsletter to fill. So whatever wagon you fall off of, makes sure it is large and fast moving, in this way you are guaranteed a mention.

For those of you want to save the world. Perhaps follow a little advice offered to Bono at a concert. Whilst on stage he proclaimed that every time he clapped his hands a child in Africa died. A helpful fellow in the audience suggested in slightly more vulgar terms, that he should stop clapping. Thank you for that one Darren.

So wherever you are spending the New Year, I hope you will have a wonderful time, and I hope that next year allows me to continue to follow this ideal.

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.”

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

May 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

The drought is back on. Put away your hosepipes, the paddling pool in the window remains empty. Do you know how long it will take to fill, one espresso cup at a time?

Scorchiooooo.

Of course no sooner will I have said this, than the clouds will gather, the rain will fall, and I’ll go off in search of some sunshine: Jake has always accused me of jinxing everything.

Sam did rise to last month’s challenge. I was bombarded with page after page of boarding passes, like Leveson enquiry emails, I was starting to feel quite travel sick. However, if I was flying Ryanair, and you know I won’t be, there will be no sick bag. Michael O’Leary tells us that his flights are so smooth and on time, that this renders the sick bag redundant. Perhaps the majority of his passengers have been on “Stag” weekends in near flung places? Last night’s goulash, borscht, etc. are in a gutter somewhere, and they have nothing left for the flight.

Apologies to those of you enjoying breakfast, but I’m sure this saved Mikey a few euros. Excuse me for a moment, nature calls, and I have to give Jake a drachma to use the bathroom. Well, Wolves do need a new striker, midfielder, defender, or team? Please delete as appropriate.

Amidst all the turmoil, one or two of you are still managing to get out there and “splash the cash”. More than one of you has bought a new car, and one of you, a Ferrari California. This particular chap was mentioning to me that he had thought it would be a sedate and peaceful drive, and he was a little surprised at the noise it made, and the fact perhaps he was drawing a little bit too much attention to himself. A little like a Cheryl Cole tattoo. Did you not test drive it? Oh, come on, the car…. And really, I thought that was the point? I bet he’s a hit at the kind of party where you put your keys in a bowl!

I assure you, if you hand the keys in this direction, I’ll have no such problems, my right arm needs a little bit of tan. That goes for any of you who have tired of your wheels. Perhaps not you Izzy, a G-whizz is not quite what I had in mind. I have a friend of longstanding who we will call Bob, his idea of a romantic weekend away with his girlfriend at the time, was to hire a Ford Transit van, in white, of course, pop a mattress in the back and head for Brighton. No Mr and Mrs Smith needed there, then. However his idea of real fun was to be driven around Baghdad, by someone cackling manically at the wheel, live shells rolling around in the foot well, dodging bullets, the driver also turned out to be a customer.

My personal experience with someone with similar honed skills courtesy of our government meant we got lost in the Peak District. A gentle Sunday morning stroll turned into a route march in the most appalling weather conditions without the correct clothing. When I tried to explain to him that we were walking faster than he had calculated and had missed the path we were supposed to take, he held my head underwater for a very long time. OK, OK I made the last bit up, or did I?

Today I have been round to see Michael, he’s on gardening leave, and has decided to head for Naples for a month to learn Italian. I was helping him sort out his wardrobe for the trip. If I didn’t do this, he’d have need of a coterie of porters, a butler, and someone to mop his fevered brow. I did this because I like him, and he needs to keep his children properly covered from the harsh rays of the sun, clearly he needs all the support he can get. But I have keys to his place and if he runs short of shorts I am under instructions to courier him his every need. Knowing Michael as I do, he will return with more clothes than when he left.

Talking of clothes, many have been staring at my wonderful white cotton suit and wondering when I shall be wearing it.  Well in answer to this, when you’re in the queue for an ice cream over the Bank holiday weekend and someone asks if you’d like a flake with that, look up and see if you recognise the face… But I jest: the stretch denim suit that has been delivered will see me in good stead for the rest of the summer.

As my trainer OT has moved onto bigger and better things; we do continue to see each other and the project continues, but I have moved my training headquarters to the gym in Dolphin Square. This is in order to prepare myself for the beach volleyball at the Olympics, just in case they need a ball boy, a lucky mascot, anything, really anything, I can mop a fevered brow with the best of them.

We have started to play Christmas music in the shop. Early I know, but it appears to be the only playlist that Jake and I can agree on or aren’t bored of at the moment. We could of course play the entire Eurovision 2012 contest from start to finish on the BBC iplayer, including the Russian grannies on a loop. Aaaargghh, I hear Jake cry no more music with accordions in it, but then he did say Jedward were OK: perhaps it’s the heat.

Finally, it is official; I am too tall to be the president of France. Some good news then?

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

December 2011 – Volpe Newsletter

Well dear all. Let me get the pleasantries out of the way and wish you a merry Christmas and very best wishes for the New Year, to some of you Seasons Greetings, and the rest of you Bah Humbug.

This year the newsletter will double as a Christmas Card. So those amongst you who have scant regard for the environment can print this out. The paper folding instructions are on YouTube, if you search for origami Christmas tree. It’s got to be better than George Osborne made out of balloons, but almost anything has to be better than that. I can never remember, is it life imitating art or the other way around?

Being a Christmas Edition, it should be a bumper version, including a sugar mouse and chocolate money, or alternatively something cheaper like the Drachma: No matter what any of you think, the Euro is here to stay.

It has been rumoured that there will be an “Opus” edition of the newsletters, after my dear friend Karl was mentioned in the Sunday Times Magazine last week. The newsletters will be accompanied by hundreds of never before published photos of me in Polaroid form. Often I was unaware or in no fit state to know the photos were being taken, and because of their candid and graphic nature, some may have been used against me. I am even shocked at some of the images myself, but then my life is about to become an open book. Perhaps a “super injunction” beckons.

Jason from The Wolseley was unwell, struck down by “man flu”. Is there nothing you will not do to get a mention? Shirley and Jayne were left to cope in your absence, and how well they did. They even knew to give me a better table than, he who shall not be named. Some of you have asked who this is; sadly my lips are sealed; well in this format anyway, but face to face it is entirely different. In the past, amongst many others, I have sat next to Clive Owen. Girls, exercise a little control please. He spent the entire time exuding an air of “Please don’t recognise me”. It may be a simple solution, but The Wolseley is not the best place to go if you want to be incognito. I like it for precisely that reason, nobody knows who I am. Well until the “Opus” rockets me to super stardom. My late dear friend Richard would have agreed, but then he would have never ventured into an establishment where he was unknown.

I have received best wishes from far and wide, and I thank you all. The gifts have been a little excessive. Paul, Ines and Sophia ensured that I will be spending most of Christmas in the gym, after the enormous basket of pastries. Share, I think not, they’re mine, all mine. Hands off, Jake. Others of you have ensured that I will be spending the New Year in The Priory, with more alcohol than I usually see on a Friday night.

I have seen a fair amount of Neil from Ibiza, who has been up here quite a bit. Visits to family and all that. I’m currently making him a jacket, where the quilting is made from the feathers of the pigeons he has dispatched, and also from the “fallen” that have flown into dear Michael’s windows, dazzled by their own reflection, or in an attempt to mate with the glass. I’m sure Michael uses some sort of bait to attract them. He is still waiting for a door handle, which doesn’t sound like much, but the delightful way Michael tells it, it could be the entrance to Narnia. I am a little concerned that come summer Neil may launch himself like Icarus from the cliffs overlooking Es Vedra, hoping to fly into one of those perfect Ibiza sunsets. At least he’s forgotten about circumnavigating the world in a coracle.

I’m starting to feel a little queasy after my 6th muffin from the basket, perhaps it was the 3rd cookie or the mince pies that are taking their toll. I’m going to have to stop for a minute and monitor my sugar levels.

This week I ventured across St James Park and into Mayfair. My friend Trevor Pickett always complains that I never go and see him. Simple explanation Trevor, you are never in the shop. The last time I saw him, he was looking very glamorous, swathed in pashmina. No, not just pashmina, but he was hanging round the Palace, busy being Father Christmas, and no the pashmina was not red, but he was sporting some designer stubble. Now do you need to be a designer to wear stubble? Will he get one of those special trimmers for Christmas? I’m fairly certain Jamie uses one, but I wish he wouldn’t wear his trousers quite so tight on telly. Matthew, please don’t comment on that one! But then our recent conversations have been about fitting new male and female parts. Studs, if you must know, to his jacket! There is nothing like bawdy pantomime humour to usher in the festive period, or is there?

Talking of that, I should comment on one or two of the stars of the newsletters this year.

David, there is no mountain high enough for one man and his bike.

Peter, who ran the Jungfrau Marathon, please, there is no joke there. But even I could have told him it would be all uphill. He probably passed Neil studying the lichen on the way up.

Emanuele, will be cooking his fingers to the bone, but he likes to do nothing better.

Dear Silvio will be…? Perhaps I shouldn’t answer that.

Mark, I imagine, may drink the minibar at home dry, stagger into the street to hail a taxi driver and head to Heathrow. He may board a flight to somewhere hot, where he can lie on beach safe in the knowledge that British Airways will not be getting their hands on his money. Ever! He has since intimated that it is a fantasy to turn up at the airport and buy a ticket to the first place that took his fancy. Better that than being escorted to it, to an unknown destination in chains, but then perhaps that is the return journey from the ensuing bender!

Celeb D as he is now known has landed a role in panto; apologies, as a roll. From the photos the costume appears more like a bagel or a doughnut, and the tights he is wearing do nothing for his legs, and the make-up the icing on the cake!

Sunil has stopped texting before 5am, which is a relief, but he now may have now dispensed with sleep altogether.

Duran, best known for taking his shirt off, has disappointed the girls by dyeing his hair dark brown for a movie role. They still prefer him as a blond.

Last and by no means least is Richard. I’m sure he is looking down upon me as I write this, tut- tutting away at my grammar. He is greatly missed, but he will know that if he ever wants to make an appearance somewhere he remains known. If you believe in re-incarnation (I do not) Richard will only come back as himself: His chair will be waiting.

Finally, there are a number of you I’d like to take the opportunity to say a personal thank you to. I do consider that everybody who crosses the threshold of the shop a friend. However some of you may feel this is a little unwise, and yes, on the odd occasion I have had to revise my opinion. But this year, there are some of you who have proved to be great friends. I won’t embarrass you by naming you, but I hope you realise you have been. Thank you again and may I wish everybody the very best for the year to come.

 

If any of you are feeling sentimental (note the senti at the beginning of that word), feel free to wander over to www.volpeblog.wordpress.com to relive any newsletters you may have deleted, missed, or simply tried to erase from your memories.  Feel free to leave comments on any of the postings, but please try to keep it clean: I have a reputation to keep and I don’t need the competition!

 

Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

November 2011 – Volpe Newsletter

Well where do I begin? I think there is a song in that one. Perhaps I should start the next one with “This is the story of my life”!

It has been quite a month. It started with; did I mention I had a birthday?  Oh yes, of course I did.

And those of you unlucky enough to be in the shop at the time will have heard the Christmas iTunes playlist that we have been playing since July. Prompted by the number of sleeps to Christmas and the introduction of Siri, Whereby all I have to say is “don’t play Christmas playlist” and Siri replies “Oh please, not again I’m really bored of this now. Can’t you ask me something intellectual? Darling.” Siri calls me “Darling”, but obviously as she gets to know the “real” me, I’m sure this will change.

We started to roll out the bling. Eric picked up his fur lined Parka, as did Stottie and they both looked “fine”, I think it’s a word the young use these days. It was always “cool” or “bad” in my youth. Oh stop laughing it was only a birthday. Do you have to keep reminding me? If it goes on like this I’ll have to go back under the knife again.

Meanwhile I’ll just keep using the lotions and potions to maintain my healthy glow. I have added an extra dimension to my training regimen. OT continues apace, but now Neil, Iyo and Sam add a Thursday morning workout when they are not training their own clients. Soon to join us will be Doug. He’s our celebrity trainer, can’t say who, but…. And no, it’s not me or one of mine.

Have any of you ever seen a celebrity in the shop? The only one I can name is the invisible man and there we are, back to the joke about Superman, Wonder Woman and the Invisible Man. Look it up if you must, it’s not one I can tell here. It’s also one of Jake’s, so don’t blame me.

Talking of Jake, we are only 14 games into the season, and already he’s really starting to twitch on Saturday afternoons. It was worse last season if you remember back that far, but it’s starting to show great promise. One place off the relegation zone, I can see that it is the cover for the iPhone is jinxing everything. I rest my case m’lud. Jake you know what to do. I wonder if there is an App to tell you the number of games until the end of the season.

OK, OK I’ll lay off Jake, I know how many of you have a soft spot for him, and I’ll go no further than that.

Dear Silvio is gone, but not forgotten. Governments always worry about who is sniping at them from the back benches. There is always the saying about keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer still. Perhaps in Dear Silvio’s case he may need a full time female Police bodyguard to protect him. If you have seen the YouTube clip, I’m sure they will be queuing up. It’s strange how suddenly the whole nation no longer wants him after being such a darling. (Not now Siri). However this might give him the chance to sneak off and get that hair transplant he was always after.

A couple of Christmas plugs to finish with. If you spotted the joke, you’re a better man than me.

Cerise Patent Black

I have been chatting to a young lady who makes truly beautiful ladies shoes. What makes it worse is that she is so nice. Her name is Aruna Seth, so if you should need a “guilt gift” this winter! If not, she does go up to a size 42, even I could get into a pair of those. I’m just not sure I could stagger around like a pantomime dame. Who said “Not again”?

For the guys it has to be MCT watches,

Finally if you need to send them anywhere, you can always use Mark Williams’ services at Mail Shot International. There you are Mark, more plugs than Silvio’s forehead.

No, I’m not putting links in for you. Goodness, do I have to everything?

Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

A Birthday Update

Thank you one and all, I am deeply touched, but then you knew that and it’s unlikely to change in the near future, unless of course I go back on the treatment.

I received birthday greetings from far and wide, some complimentary, others, well perhaps I did deserve a little of what was said. One of you, a man involved in the finance industry, though not allied to Greece, got his sums wrong. His workings were correct, but the correct answer is 21.

For those amongst you who used Facebook to wish me well, I will not be posting pictures of the other nights’ celebrations. The Chinese Lanterns were a bit of a mistake, but I thought the small fire at Battersea Power Station would only hasten its redevelopment.

For the fireworks my thanks go to Mario Balotelli. He has spent longer in the fitting room than any other customer I’ve had, the late Richard Pulford included. At least Richard finally came out with the clothes on in the right places. Dear Mario, you might have seen how he manages not to put the training bib on. Imagine him with a full wardrobe, not a look that any of you will be offered, it is a look he has made his own.

My D list friend gave me a vuvuzela, he’d even signed it, immediately devaluing it. The man is now quite mad, something about meerkats and insurance, and why he hadn’t got the work, even though he’d dressed in a full size meerkat outfit and perfected the accent. The up side is that he is now bonding with his children, but only as long as he has got the outfit on.

My thanks go to Sunil, who tested me the other morning with a text at 5.45am.The alarm had already gone off. It was early, but not quite early enough to catch me out. Please let’s not turn this into a game. He was in London for a day and wanted to catch up. I’m not sure how many people would want to catch up at that time of day, even the Wolseley was shut.

Neil will be here from Thursday for a few days and a party, I’ll keep you posted, and Mateo was here to return my mankini. Thank goodness he’d washed it.

As always in Mateo’s world, it is elegant, charming and beautiful. This visit was no exception.

Very best to you all, and don’t think you’re going to get any more before the end of the month.

Apparently it’s 52 sleeps until Christmas. Thanks Jake

 

Copyright © 2011 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.