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.

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.

 

End of September 2015 – Yoga Newsletter

A post with new stock will follow.

Sport appears to be imploding all around us and I wanted to wait a little for all the wailing, crying, backstabbing and recriminations to subside before commenting.

The strange game with the ball that is not round has finished, and we won what looks like a beautifully carved wooden spoon. So those of you who support other slightly less successful rugby teams, I can see you gazing on in envy…

A Welsh friend of mine who will remain nameless, Daffyd, his favourite flower being a daffydil, sent me a rather tasteless and pointless photo of a Welsh Dragon torching Twickenham. It makes a change of the last one he sent me of him surrounded by his sheep with the caption ‘My Hareem’. Revenge is a dish best served cold, apart from lamb, which I prefer pink!

I have spared his blushes and only posted the photo of the dragon.

Welsh Dragon?

Welsh Dragon?

And who’d have thought it 10/10 for the England footballers. Granted, not the most difficult group to qualify from, and my Nan’s Village Hall Eleven could have beaten Lithuania. Apparently Miles Storey may be spending his next loan session in my Nan’s team. So he will then have played at a City, a Town and a Village.

Young Mr Storey isn’t the only one getting around, Ibiza Neil is touring the Far East as ‘Emergency Tattoo Artist’ to David Morales and the crew. This I’m sure, is just in case mid set one of the DJs has a crisis of confidence and requires a little inkie touch up here or there.

I am a simple soul. So this made me smile.

Water on Mars

Water on Mars

I took the new, massively hyped iAdrianS on a gentle bender (test). No, not a gender test.

The current model’s power cells are topped up by solar power, which is obviously one of the reasons why I need to travel so much, I will chase the sun like Icarus. A ‘Supermoon’ every 30 years is not good enough.

Supermoon

Supermoon

I hope that we may be able to do away with the solar feature at some point in the future, otherwise we will struggle to sell any beyond the Tropics of Capricorn and Cancer given the summer we have had.

Scorpio and my name is Adrian
Now I don’t like a woman that’s quiet
A woman who carries herself like Mr Universe

Mmm take my hand
Come with me baby, to Love Land
Let me show you how sweet it could be
Sharing loving with me
I want…………

Goodness me the absinthe is hanging around in my system! Float, float on…

Currently I am in talks with VW about a diesel powered version. They are little cagey about the data, but they have showered me with so many gifts, how could I say no?

A breakfast companion of mine is keen on getting her daily dose of Vitamin D, stripping off at the drop of a hat at the sun’s zenith, apparently whatever, wherever and whenever the moment takes her, she calls it her Martini moment, I know she’s not solar powered perhaps she’s just an exhibitionist, et moi?

Upward/Downward Dog - Regents Park

Upward/Downward Dog – Regents Park

This lady also thinks that I am some kind of exotic, international playboy!

I’ll have you know that this lady is not Lorraine Chase, firstly that was Cinzano not Martini, and secondly I don’t fly from Luton Airport unless I am sedated.

The iAdrianS test was to involve the unit taking part in yoga on Mallorca, so hopefully the hardware and software should work in unison, just in time to blow the bloody doors off in Ibiza, closing parties? Pah!

The yoga was organised through friends of mine who have Sardinia Yoga, they provide yoga breaks in various locations in the Med, not just Sardinia, just in case you thought the iAdrianS mapping system and location services weren’t functioning correctly.

www.sardiniayoga.com

Yoga View - Cala D'or

Yoga View – Cala D’or

Hotel View - Cala D'or

Hotel View – Cala D’or

The training aspect of the trip was to involve cycling, so I would have got my Lycra fix. Given how poor the summer has been, I’ve had to wear a fat suit under the Lycra to keep warm on the bike, not my usual svelte look.

And should I have a problem with the firmware, I’ve brought along a little Papa Smurf to help…

For those of you who think I may be losing it by taking up yoga, I will warn you that as always I have an ulterior motive. I have yet to work out what that is, but come the end I will have worked one out! I mean it’s not as if there will be semi-clad people contorting themselves into strange and exotic positions. So another night at the Piers Gaveston Society looks as though it is on the cards, and Dave will be having the Suckling Pig!

That is before he sinks his pearly whites into Jezza.

It’s not going to be a seven course menu degustazione is it? Or more likely, a particularly small ‘amuse bouche’, or one of those sorbets to de-glaze your mouth between courses. Given that all around him are laying into him with gusto he will be nice and tender. Grind his bones to make my bread.

No trip to Mallorca is complete without a visit to 4 kilos

No trip to Mallorca is complete without a visit to 4 kilos

The yoga went well between the thunder storms, yet the cycling and running didn’t happen, the weather put paid to that. I changed hotels and headed north towards Pollenca, bad idea, on so many levels…

I’d hoped for some good weather to put the iAdrianS through his paces, but it was dull and by the time I had finished dinner in a lovely restaurant called Marisco in Can Picafort it was raining, and then it began to properly rain. I made it back to the hotel to be greeted by International Line Dancing Week.

http://restaurantemarisco.es/

No really, it’s true. At any one time there were 100 German men and women shaking their thing to ‘My Achy Breaky Heart’; when out the line stepped Daisy Duke, or will his name be Duke Daisy, a transvestite of well over six feet tall dressed as a blonde cowgirl. OMG.

I was having a conversation on Whatsapp with a young lady at the time, she asked for photographic proof, now she wishes she hadn’t, and is still being treated for shock.

So this has turned into a rather long, rambling newsletter, and there is no stopping me now, gathering no lichen…

Florence in the Rain

Florence in the Rain

Storm clouds are building

Storm clouds are building

After a long, damp day in Florence, I hopped on a train and headed through the Apennines. I followed this with a very late night fighting over a steak with Emanuele Putin in a misty Bologna.

As I walked towards the mystic portal, light surrounded me, a wooden door creaked open and I was warmly greeted by Vladamir Addone. What happened next is the stuff of folklore that has become Drogheria della Rosa.

Mystic Portico

Mystic Portico

The Portico Opens

The Portico Opens

Comrade Addone

Comrade Addone

So “Blatter, Valke and Platini”, sounds like a pawnbrokers; have all been suspended for a short period. One of them is very short, period! A source tells me that they have been placed in a sack with a snake to fight amongst themselves, on a boat to Australia. Let them deal with the immigration fallout from that one, and again ooooooh Mr Bond once they run out of food they will only be able to eat one thing; rat.

Clearly I’m using the newsletter to gear up for the launch of SPECTRE.

A little bird has told me that the former Toronto mayor Rob Ford is being ‘lined up’ to succeed Cepp the mushroom. Once again I am just throwing jokes around like confetti. Oh, how you spoil us your Excellency.

As his Excellency I now have a Palazzo all to myself in Bologna.

Palazzo Volpe

Palazzo Volpe

Finally when travelling by air, look around you.

On our approach to Florence, the woman next to me started to get excited, talking in an animated fashion into to her earpiece, something about looking for a clue.

In a flash, the Lycra lady leapt to her feet, shouted “Eureka”, opened the door to the plane and jumped out. The last thing I saw was her rear disappearing into the fresh air.

At no point did I challenge Anneka!

 

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

November 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

Firstly, as you know the newsletter is available through the website, and now has the benefit of having photos to accompany some of the stories. As we progress these will be back-dated over the years. Yes, those of you that doubted me, the newsletter will soon have been running for two years.

Siena Sunset

Siena Sunset

Currently outside it is cold, cold, cold, and my hands are hovering above the keyboard numb and unresponsive. Like a Saturday morning, after Friday night with Vash. There are those of you who have either shared or encountered me on these nights, and you’ll know what I mean, because you will have been there too.

Now November has passed, the number of you sporting facial hair for good causes has been a revelation, but I suppose you’ll all be looking forward to a nice clean shave.

Partners and wives, I have been told will be much happier, although some of the facial topiary has been spectacular. Now I feel I can say it, but a friend who considers himself to be very masculine; the word “butch” comes to mind, has been rendered as camp as Christmas with his handlebars. I daren’t tell him, because he’s bigger than me.

I will of course revert from being a wolf man, as after every full moon to my primped, preened and polished normality. Ramone specifically has complained that he will have to use the clippers before applying the wax. Hollywood. Careful man!

Talking of handlebars, I have purchased a bicycle. I bought a “fixie”, but being a southern softie I am running it on a free wheel. I do of course value my knees, which when using a fixie, is the only way of stopping. Yes, by peddling backwards! Gnilddep. Oh, forget it!

Thank you, those of you who have made suggestions of what I should buy, and David especially. He has always been quick to point out where I might go wrong!  But the main reason for buying a bicycle was to get into fluorescent lycra again. As I no longer ski, or club regularly, it is the only way I can legitimately wear lycra in public without being arrested, well as long as I am on the bike. So very “Emperor’s New Clothes”.  Remember the mankini?

A friend is a little nervous about his first mention in the newsletter, but not as nervous as he was when he met Neil for the first time. Neil looked him over like a blank canvas tattoo needle at the ready, poised to tattoo the Sistine Chapel.

Anyway I digressed. Yes I know, I always do!

This friend has been complaining that he hasn’t been using his Ducati anywhere near as much as he should. So, yesterday he qualified this statement by saying that his new home will only be 4 miles from the office, rather than the current 6. As he is pretty fit, he could perhaps push it to and from work every day. Given the reliability of the bike, and the opportunity to keep fit, I think this is possibly a win-win scenario. He is also the only person I know that can out techie Jake when it comes down to pistols at dawn over their iphone 5s.

The UK economy, like many in Europe is now under the control of a former Goldman Sachs employee, and a Canadian to boot. Not that I have anything against either, but it looks that Europe may be turned into a very large investment bank. Oh! You mean it is already. Apparently a former GS cleaner is being lined up for a job in the Italian Finance Ministry, she by all accounts a bit of a stunner. Dear Silvio’s influence from afar continues uninterrupted.

Inkadelic in India

Inkadelic in IndiaNeil has returned to Ibiza, after a very big party in India and a couple of weeks telling the Dali Llama where he’s going wrong. Peace will return, imported from Nepal, no expense spared back to Ibiza. The photos he sent me were spectacular.

I shall finish with a true story, not a joke!

So a friend wearing a pair of £5 sale sunglasses was walking along the beach with his wife. Like many of us he is a tad vain, but on this occasion his is amazed by the reaction of people staring at him as if he had a new found celebrity status. Just to make sure he gazed down to ensure that he was still wearing his swimming shorts, such was the response.

At this point the gentle stroll along the beach had turned into a swagger with all the subtly of a “pimp roll”. His wife was starting to worry, and suggested they stop in a beach side café for a refreshing glass of wine. Here the response was the same, so my friend asks his wife if she has noticed anything about his new found magnetism.

She replies straight faced, that apart from a missing lens in his sunglasses he looked no different.

Remember, you buy cheap, you buy twice.

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

September 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

What a busy month you have all had. It looks like things are back to normal.

My friend Mark had a birthday. The party, or should I say ensuing bender lasted for several days, and only ended when he remembered he should be working. However sleep deprivation has sharpened his reflexes, and on his way to work, he only fell out of the taxi rather than falling in. He is still not welcomed by British Airways.

Talking of birthdays, Sam had one and Jake is having his. If you are reading this on Sunday the 30th, then big up for Jake as he is 30 today, try not to choke on the Frosties. As an early adopter he has his hands on the new iPhone 5. However he is concerned about the size of his sim. Jake just how old are you? Oh yes, I forgot 30.

I shan’t mention the football to him, it’s not going well, but the way they are going, he’ll be playing for them next season, and then I really won’t get any work out of him on a Saturday afternoon.

This week I spent a day in Ibiza.  To cut a long story short…. No let’s not, I have a newsletter to fill, and I had an insistent customer who is desperate to have his shoes tattooed (his name is Charlie, how Ibiza is that?). As I had something I needed to do with Neil, and also to fit a customer for a couple of suits, I took the opportunity. The suits will be particularly sparkly, just the things for spinning the discs at Pacha or Amnesia. Now where was I, I’d forgotten.

Neil’s Leg

And then there was of course Neil’s special cargo, his skulls. I found these while I was poking around a flea market in Florence. His studio is full of strange objects stripped back to bare bones: monkeys, cats and lots and lots of skulls. I always expect to see him sitting in a corner running a gnarled nail over an old skull grinning manically into the middle distance. But then that’s his normal demeanour. Oh stop it Neil you’re freaking me out! His favourite piece of this delivery was an eagle skull which I am sure he will put to good use scaring off the pigeons.

I left London on Monday night with Easyjet and arrived at 1am. Neil and I went out for a drink and we didn’t arrive home until 6am. I can still do Ibeefa with the best of them. The night was been spent in the company of a man called Eugene and a couple of others, who were there for 5 days and had no intention of sleeping. However as I was breakfasting with Neil at 11am, Eugene appeared looking rather lost, not sure where the other two had got to, saying he wasn’t feeling so good, and about as pale as Michael’s cadaverous feet. It was taking its toll.

When I returned to Neil’s studio I met a very good customer of mine, who was with Neil for a marathon tattoo session, 6 tattoos in 7 hours. Oh, how I felt his pain.

I returned to the UK at 5am the following morning, after another Easyjet delay. No beach, no clubs and who says my life is fun…..

As I have mentioned my friend Michael, I should remind you of his trip to Naples and his adventures with male fragrance (see previous editions of these epic meanderings). His current “fave” is by Tom Ford, and called “Auld Wood”. Is someone having a laugh? Obviously not Michael, who hates the thought that he might be considered to be or to have old wood, but I know his bark is worse than his bite.

Well the joke wasn’t that bad!

The wedding of the year took place last week, and I was invited. A very beautiful, simple and elegant affair, but then the men were all dressed by me. Yes, you got it, forget the bride, it’s all about me, me, me. But she did look stunning.

Then on Sunday, the groom took his new wife on one of the most clement days this year, to White Hart Lane, to see the mighty Spurs defeat QPR. Yes, I know, I was slightly puzzled as to why? However he is a fanatic, and the wife, she will have to get used to it. Perhaps if she doesn’t enjoy it, she could buy the club, because she can, appoint AVB, and just wait for it all to implode. What do you mean that’s already happened? Now I’m not a Spur’s supporter and in fact I don’t support anyone (apart from Jake after yet another defeat), but I rather enjoyed the whole experience. My highlight was to have my photo taken with a couple of former Spurs players, Martin Peters and Pat Jennings. Now if only I was old enough to remember them. I was wondering if they had doubles that do the same thing at Arsenal and West Ham.

Martin Peters and Pat Jennings

If so could I get one to replace me, whilst I sail around the world.

Talking of which, Jason is headed for San Francisco, for yet another holiday. Does he ever work? I hear you all ask. Sorry Jason, have you been away?

Recently I have struck up a friendship with a chap. He is doing what can only be described as a “deal”. I can’t say what it is, but it’s legit’, although he and the other characters involved are doing their best to make it appear, otherwise. Clandestine meetings at Claridges or the Hotel Metropole in Monaco, lots of very large gentleman in tight suits, who don’t look like they are just there for show. Who might know how to dangle you out of a hotel window to see the colour of your money as it floats gently in the breeze towards the hotel pool. It’s beginning to resemble a Guy Ritchie movie, and my friend, who is also a well-built chap, is now known as “Danish”. It’s all in the name after all we had the character “Turkish” in Snatch.

Following last month’s newsletter, my friend phoned me from Tanzania to explain his spear was really quite impressive, and as I started to discuss this with him, he cut the conversation short, explaining this call was costing him 7 pounds a minute…. I thought he was a man of substance. His words are as shallow as his pockets…

That’ll have him back on the phone for impugning his credentials.

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

August 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

Firstly, Jake is back from holiday – oh joy. And just as I was able to catch up on some work.

Congratulations to all our medal winners, a magnificent haul. It seems a shame that they won’t all be honoured in the time honoured way, a large contract with the BBC. They should be rewarded for their efforts, but somehow like exam results it is fashionable to move the goalposts just as the ball crosses the line. Perhaps to do a U turn, just to show we care. Of course by “we” I mean Dave and Nick, who I’m sure I will be snuggled up under the duvet of coalition as soon as it gets cold and the electricity prices go up.

Most of you seemed to scarper as soon as the Olympics started and were not to be seen again until we dropped the baton. But it did mean that you could get a table in any restaurant in London, and cross Piccadilly without looking.

Jake is now offering me his iphone 4S 64GB, so he can upgrade to the new iphone 5 when it comes out. At what he says will be at a preferential rate, he is even going to throw in a very attractive gold Wolves case! Aaaaaaarggghhhhh. Many of you missed the start of the football season. Oh, poor Jake; the first game a loss and now the board are selling off the crown jewels, left right and centre. Their season is over.

It is a similar dilemma for me, when asked, why there are never any plain blue or white shirts in the sale. It’s a simple answer, next season I will have to go out and buy the same thing again for more money. Have football clubs not grasped this simple concept? The key is in the word simple, or Joey Barton!

Talking of the crown jewels, I would have expected nothing less from Harry.

Well it’s not the first time, but once again I am writing this sat on an aeroplane. I have avoided jokes about the mile high club for the sake of the prurient amongst you. Is it really up, up and away?

Back to Florence again, life is full of hardship, but as Sam has been very quiet on the travel front, I thought I should take up his mantle. This weekend I should be meeting up with Sunil in a Castello near Viterbo. He is taking a holiday, wonders will never cease.

Things are going well there. But those of you who know, know, and those of you who don’t, I’m sorry for the moment my lips are sealed. Isn’t that so unlike me, but then I’m nothing but capricious.

And please, I am not helping “Dear Silvio” with his return. This is well underway, and they have found a stash of lire in a warehouse in Palermo which should boost the economy. ON everyone someone has written, please pass this on for luck……..

Obviously this was last weekend, but I was writing this beforehand, trying to show that there is input throughout the month.

Also I could recount every tube and bus journey, and the ins and outs of my Oyster Card, but I’d soon have you all asleep, and we’ve only just begun.

A few updates are in order. Jason is back from hols, and knowing his reputation, woe be tide any young ladies that might have been in his vicinity upon his Athenian travails, you know what happens. Shirley is not far from releasing her first born upon the world. By the time this is published she will have stopped working, and Marie tells me that the time is nigh. She could always spend her days reliving her pregnancy via my newsletters on the website, hoping the odd snigger may induce labour and get it all over with.

Some of you may remember Eugenia who used to come into the shop from time to time. Yes, she’s the one who we taught to see a second meaning in everything, a degree in double entendre. By we, I mean me, because poor Jake was too young and innocent. I did say he was! Eugenia is getting married later this year, to Ricardo from Ecuador. Eugenia is multi lingual. Good, avoided the obvious joke, but you know where I was going. She even speaks Swahili, which surprised the heck out of a friend of mine. I’m pretty sure she told him that his spear wasn’t as big as he thought. I think Ricardo knows what he is letting himself in for, and I did try to warn him, but perhaps he is blinded by her looks. She is very pretty. Sorry Gen, but you have grown into your ears. Oh, how I remember the days when we used to be able to pick you up by them!

Michael is in Mikonos, and has been on a diet for what seems like forever, and all he talks about is food, I think this has severely affected his mental state, and it’s made his legs turn yellow. Oh no, that’s the fake tan, and his feet are still cadaverous. B*$£h I can hear him say. I just wish I could be there to see him exit the water, a la Daniel Craig. I just hope he remembers to tie the cord on his trunks, up. But it would be so like him not to. However Michael is looking very svelte, he just tries to thwart me by buying macaroons from Pierre Herme (eat your heart out Laduree) this is the real deal.

Neil doesn’t appear to have noticed that I’m not in Ibiza, but I think his head has been turned by an Italian beauty supplied by Pink, who is down there helping Neil out.

Sorry another update, Neil has noticed that I’m not in Ibiza. By all accounts August has left him a nervous wreck. All of those acres of unadorned flesh have left his needles blunt, and only faithful Scratch for company.

And although he hasn’t been mentioned for a while my ‘D’ list celebrity “friend”, has been spotted promoting clubs on the beaches in Ibiza. This generally involves you walking around shirtless, tanned and surrounded by a bevvy of girls dressed the same way. However in his case it means dressed as a Pacha Cherry. A strange way of getting your five-a-day.

And finally Richard has been gone a year, but not forgotten. His chair remains, and perhaps I shall have a brass plaque made to honour him in his absence. Only recently have the emails been returned, perhaps he keeps tabs on my grammar via the website. He will always be able to return to somewhere, where he is known.

Sent from my ipad

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.