Summer has ended Newsletter 2014

Happy Birthday Sam, and Tony.

So once again I get a slew of “Out of Office” replies… Sven it appears is never in his office.

No, not Nancy’s Sven, another Sven. I’d forgotten all about that Sven. He’s now managing Guangzhou R&F in China, I had to look that up on Wikipedia. Sometimes I wonder why I bother, anyway I’m away on holiday, am I bothered?

It seems that this newsletter is a kind of 50 Shades of Grey thing. Clearly there are more shades of Grey than that, he just wasn’t using his imagination, just ask John Major. More peas Norma? Bet that’s not in there. Our Emi has given up reading it on the tube, because….. Because everyone was staring at her, and as far as she was concerned it had nothing to her gorgeousness. A customer’s words, not mine I hasten to add.

The newsletter is helping a relatively newly married couple spice up their bedroom activities because they have admitted to reading this together in bed before….ahem! Well who’d of thought it? I didn’t think it was that racy, it appears all the talk of Lycra and mink saddles has got some amongst you getting a little frisky.

Talking of the mink saddle; it has gone; as anticipated to a private collection in Japan. It will go into a glass case alongside such rare items as a pair of worn Britney Spears panties and a photo of Madonna with her clothes on.

I know it’s been cold and wet at home, but I’ve been sunning myself in Ibiza and training for my next challenge in the vain hope that I will remain drier than I had been on the bike ride. That being said, perhaps I shall don a deep sea diver’s suit, lead weights and all; and to make it easier I shall carry Adam on my shoulders dressed as Goldilocks.

I will reveal all very soon. OK, at about 10.30am when I get to the beach. Eeeeewwwwww!

Why, Oh why is it that the people who will insist on sunbathing in the altogether are the ones who should be the ones who should holiday in a tent, and wear it!

This trip to the island has been much more relaxed, Eugene has been away at Burning Man, which has done its best to impersonate Glastonbury and offer a deluge of epic proportions followed by naked mudwrestling. Apparently he has bought himself a scooter to get himself around. I thought that he would have had a gyrocopter, or more appropriately a jet ski, but he likes to keep his feet on terra-firma. Oh, really!

Neil has been on good form, ably assisted in the studio this summer by Tai, Jonny, Rudi and Wesley Thomas. He even managed to seem relaxed a certain points. There was a tricky moment at dinner one evening. We were at the dessert stage as Sergio was out walking the dogs. As he wandered past, Neil scooped up the aptly named “Bon-Bon”, I have captured the moment where Neil went to swallow him whole, sadly Bon-Bon was not best pleased; clearly suffering from little dog syndrome.

Bon Bon Snack

Bon Bon Snack

The first few days were spent in the company of a bevy of lovely young ladies.

Me and 4 girls alone on a boat with my reputation?

They were here to party hard. A little VIP with David Guetta at Pasha, Ushuaia, Glitterbox at Boom, Space, Blue Marlin and finally a little Amnesia, which is probably what was needed. And OK, perhaps I shared the best part of a bottle of Vodka with myself, whilst talking to Oleg next to me who by all accounts is a worse dancer than I am.

Pasha VIP

Pasha VIP

Bevy

Bevy

The boat was thanks to another Neil, this time at BoatsIbiza. We spent the day with Phil and Tracy aboard their Sunseeker. A little trip round Es Vedra, a couple of bays, lunch at a beach restaurant, finishing with a Sunset in the bay in front of Café del Mar. I cannot recommend them highly enough, it was a day to remember.

http://www.boatsibiza.com

Neil has offered a 5% discount to anyone contacting him and mentioning our recommendation.

Our Funseeker

Our Funseeker

Swimming at Es Vedra

Swimming at Es Vedra

Magical Es Vedra

Magical Es Vedra

Cafe del Mar Sunset

Cafe del Mar Sunset

 

I’m not the only one who has been away.

Perseus has a new job and hence is on “gardening leave”. Apparently Emi wants this, but without changing jobs. By all accounts Perseus is counting windmills on Mykonos, or something like that. The things people do that pass for fun! He will no doubt return, his legs as white as snow. The rest of him will have changed colour, marginally. He’ll bitch about everything, but that’s his way and I love him for it; I think if he were a cocktail, he’d be “Caustic Soda”. In his words, he’s so “Beefcake”, a walking barbecue flavoured tortilla chip.

The football season has started again. Millions have been spent, and has it changed anything? The lottery of who will get Luis “Gummy Bear” Suarez has been answered. To cap it all, he’ll be filling a hole in the middle, bridging the gap to attack, and probably scoring a brace.

Poor little Wayne has had more responsibility heaped upon those already hunched shoulders, running round like a Chinese crested dog, steam coming out of his ears. Apparently he thought by becoming captain he would get a uniform and a cap with badges on it. Super Mario is back, and has intimated that he wants me to make all his clothes for him. No, no, no. This is a man who can’t put a training bib on, and fails miserably time after time to get his hat on the right way round.

I already have a very mad, high maintenance customer who phones me from all over the world in order that I tell him what to wear, this was topped off recently, by having to explain to him what going “commando” meant. He didn’t get it first or second time, and I certainly wasn’t going to demonstrate via Skype.

So with Mario I don’t even want to do something as complicated as buttons.

Shortly we will be inundated with new stock, but until that point you will have to read about all of my exploits as I travel far and wide in search of the next legal high. There are a few of you who have attempted to tempt me with something a little less straight laced, but I will always refuse, unless it has an alcohol base.

Mr Portillo has a new series coming up. I’m sworn to secrecy, but apparently that’s the gist of it. It will be coming to a small screen near you very soon.

And of course soon I’ll have my new iphone XXVI. However I will sign of this newsletter with a last Sunset from Iibza.

Another Ibiza Sunset

Another Ibiza Sunset

Sent from my iphone XXV

Copyright © 2014 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

July 2012 Out of Office Update – Volpe Newsletter

Well Jake’s watching the Olympics, if it’s not the archery, it’s the canoeing, and if not the tennis, the weightlifting. And as tumbleweed is blowing down London’s empty streets, I thought I’d share a couple of bits of news with you, rather than publish it on Twitter.

Yesterday I was wandering around Piccadilly Circus, when I was approached by a young lady. Yes, you lot, not the other way around! It was Jayne from The Wolseley, she’d been checking out the competition with Emanuelle. Well, let me tell you, when it comes to me there is no competition! I was wearing something from my Emperor’s New Clothes collection. Well it was quite humid outside.

Don’t worry I’ll wait for you to get the joke. Madonna found it very alluring.

Anyway I digress; back to Jayne. She suggested a tour of Zedel, the latest opening in the Rexra Group of restaurants. As I’d not been I before I accepted, so we descended into the depths below Piccadilly Circus, to be greeted by Danielle, how we have missed he cherubic face at breakfast. Sorry Jason, but….

It looks fantastic, and as soon as I stop dashing around Europe, I’ll be in like Flint.

And someone has a stalker.

This is what happens when you get very drunk, meet someone; give them your phone number and arrange to meet them at the top of the London Eye 9 and a half weeks later.

First of all the texts start quite playfully, reminiscing over the evening when you met, the horrible drunken state you were both in, the particularly interesting outfit you were wearing. About how romantic it was to arrange to meet at some predetermined point in the future, when clearly you haven’t got a clue as to who this person is.

How the messages get more frantic when you fail to reply, when you can’t remember them or their name. Finally when they buy the tickets for the date on the Eye, and you start to worry that they might be mad.

At least you finally came clean and admitted you couldn’t remember the slightest thing about that night; but do they know where you work?

I await an update.

And as for Dave of the last newsletter, no David it isn’t you, and tell your dad I’m sorry about the Rangers quip, but….

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

July 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

Before I start, it appears I have a lot to answer for, namely the weather. I shall quote from May’s 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.”

Oooops!

I take it all back in the hope that summer might make an appearance. Currently I am suffering from “Trench Foot”, and I haven’t even been to any festivals. I pity those of you who have. No, not really, you’ll only have yourselves to blame. Off in search of drugs and alcohol, and a few cheap thrills.

Talking of this Jake went to see Bruce Springsteen, had his foot trodden on and headed for the exit before Paul McCartney. He curses about it to this day.

And Jake is finally taking a holiday. Wonders will never cease. He is headed for Spain, and a week of sun, sea and sand, and probably alcoholic poisoning. It will be an all-inclusive resort, which really means he will head for the pool, lie down and have a tube inserted into his mouth. Via this method his food and cocktails can be regularly administered without the need to voluntarily move a muscle. The gag reflex and peristalsis will see to that. Yes, I had to look them up as well. But hopefully he will return refreshed, ready to except the reality of life in the Championship , for a season before relegation means free fall to the Conference. At least he doesn’t support Rangers.

Sunil has been to see me, and we did lunch. I only do this about once a year, because I am a breakfast man, and yes, we all know where! However this time we went there for lunch and Jason nearly fell off his perch. Have you been away Jason? Private joke and it was not at Her Majesty’s pleasure. More a day release I think.

One of this month’s highlights was supplied by Sunil who kindly serenaded us in the shop on the piano, via the hands free speaker on our phone. The young man is clearly talented, or perhaps he has Jamie Cullum trapped in a box, not quite as implausible as it sounds. But a little Bach went a long way to soothing the savage beast.

I keep being drawn back to Italy; Florence, Pisa, Parma, Roma and Lucca, funny how they all sound like ****stars. Or perhaps the names of children from bohemian families who spend their summer basking in the villa in the hills outside Ibiza town; too spaced out to venture into the pool, let alone a trip (substance abuse related joke), to the beach. Do I sound jealous and bitter? Yes? Good because I am. I will not be in Ibiza this year again, the pressure of work will keep me here, and as they say, home is where the heart is.

The only consolation is that I am in Italy regularly to keep an eye on a current project, and I have stayed in some interesting places. I woke one morning to find a note pinned to my door, informing me in Italian to keep the noise down, I was embarrassing their children who couldn’t sleep.  It was signed off with an angry face! Perhaps the visit of the waxer to my room was ill advised, but I didn’t think my howls of pain weren’t anything that their children hadn’t heard before. They’d obviously got the wrong room, and I had to have the note translated by the hotel who found it rather amusing. At least time I’d managed to avoid Madonna, she was in the room the other side of the family. I told you they had the wrong room.

There’s nought so queer as folk.

Well I’ve held off as long as possible.

The Olympics have started (or as unofficial sponsors have to refer to it – The Big Multi-National Sports Day).

I thought the opening ceremony was fantastic.  We had Ken Branagh dressed as Abraham Lincoln (yes, some people were not listening to the commentary), The Queen doing her bit for herself and country (was she on her own secret service…?) and of course the dulcet tones of Macca to round off proceedings – I say dulcet as I had nodded off by this point.

I think we have won a Gold Medal in nearly every event but I am finding it hard to keep track, so dizzying is our success. All have been won by our illustrious leader “King Yong Cameron”. There was a moment, when instead of the Union Flag, the cross of St Andrew was displayed, but this was smoothed over like our great leader’s brow. His ability to be present at more than one event has meant that we lead the medal table. He has also been making up the numbers in the crowd at those events where there were empty seats, and he will be playing in the tennis doubles as well as handing the baton to himself in the relay. It is rumoured that he will hop the 100 metres with Gideon tied to his free leg to slow him down. His personal best for this event is 6.2 seconds, I pity poor Usain, who I am sure will withdraw to avoid the humiliation.

However the star attraction will be his appearance at the beach volleyball. He will stride like a lion from his back door, a young Sebastian Coe unable to keep pace with his majesty. DC’s tight Speedos enhancing his reputation as father to the nation, the sand between his toes, the sun on his back…….

Eeew, I can’t keep writing this, I’m feeling slightly nauseous.

Oh, by the way, in the midst of all this excitement, I completely forgot to mention to anyone that we’ve started our “Closing Down” sale. You know the one, the one where we’re not really closing down, but everyone thinks we are.  Blame Dave for this.

Anyway, the sale is going on for a while and for the second successive year, I will be here for pretty much the whole time. Hang on, I’ve just realised why Jake’s booked a week off…

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

June 2012 – Volpe Newsletter

This is a long one. Best to get that out of the way to begin with!

So much has happened this month. My, my, haven’t you all been so busy. It must mean the economy is on the way back, or you’ve all got so bored that some of you are actually doing something, asides from working.

Anyway, my plan was to meet up with Sam in the Cathay Lounge at Heathrow, we’d start drinking and continue until we were scraped onto the tarmac in Hong Kong. And if Mark had come along, we may never have survived the flight. Oh well, best laid plan of mice and men. Sam changed his plans and has headed for Paris. However, on the slight chance we both are in Hong Kong at the same time, we will try and do something en famile…

OK, slight problem, should I start again or just continue? Sam didn’t go to Paris, we are on the same flight, but as of yet we haven’t started drinking. I think we’ll take it easy and relax and catch up. We’re both going to have some work to do, and how else am I going to get the newsletter out? It is great to have Sam along, even if it’s so he can’t complain that it may be late. At least this time it might be his fault!!!

Anyway, I’m on the plane and only 11 hours to save the world! OK, OK to write the newsletter. It’s just that the former sounds so much more dramatic, and you know how I like a drama. And now the damn seat is broken, it’s completely flat and I’ve got to go and stand in the galley whilst they try to fix it at 2am, in the dark, with a toothpick. I should be catching up on my beauty sleep, wrapped up in my duvet, in my own individual little booth.

What am I doing in Hong Kong? I hear you all ask in unison.

Am I standing on top of a tall building in a typhoon? No really, you should see the video. A typhoon No. 8 signal passed through, so after dinner we strolled up onto the roof at David Tang’s Bank of China Restaurant to watch the passing typhoon. I was Batman to Hong Kong’s Gotham City. Oh, Adrian do get over yourself and the fantasy world in which you live.

No really; working is my response. Not to find new suppliers, as someone cruelly suggested. I am doing this for a friend who trusts my judgement. He has asked me out here to make suits for his wedding.  Mountain brought to Mohamed, perhaps. Fool? Clearly, but I won’t have a word said against him, and his fiancé has made it clear that she thinks I’m completely mad or worse. We’ve met, only the once, and since then she has avoided me. It was the pale blue suede jacket for a stag weekend he was going to in Ibiza that did it, very “Miami Vice”. Well it would, wouldn’t it?

I did put him Neil’s way if he was in need of a tattoo. Talking of Neil, there was a picture of him and Scratch (his faithful canine companion) on Facebook, sunning themselves on a beach. He said he was only there a couple of hours, but I did notice a darker hue to his skin whilst chatting on Skype. He can still be such a rebel. I shall try to get there at some point and have my name engraved somewhere so I don’t forget who I am. Neil doesn’t do “shades”, nothing beats a good glare, and Neil can glare with the best of them. Sometimes I think he really enjoys scaring prospective customers by staring at them, or it might be a test. If they can withstand his withering glance, then they are able to the pain that will follow as he wields his needle!

Sadly Neil will be in London this weekend, at some celeb wedding or other. So we will miss each other. He will arrive with Ryanair, and stay in a tent in a field, I will not. He didn’t like that. I didn’t realise he was getting married.

I was in Florence 2 weeks ago for Pitti Uomo, a menswear trade fair. Given my comments about the state and price of accommodation there in the past, I was pleasantly surprised. OK, I happened to be staying there at the same time as Madonna, who I must say made a real pest of herself, by knocking on my door all hours of the day and night, a la Peter Cook and Dudley Moore.

I stayed in a very inexpensive bed and breakfast called Relais del Duomo. It was great, even though it was 36C outside, I didn’t even need to use the air conditioning! Clean and tidy, central and importantly very quiet, well apart from the bells of the Duomo. Really, if I want to be woken at that time I have Sunil. He, who lives in a different time zone to the rest of the world, compiled of 24 hours of work and 1 hour of sleep. Except Sunil don’t live int shoebox int middle ot road (Yorkshire accent). I normally set the alarm to wake me, but Sunil can be guaranteed to pre-empt it by at least a couple of hours.

Now I have a recommendation for you if you are travelling to Florence, it is a restaurant called “Trattoria Gabriello” and it is in via della Condotta. The owner Rita is wonderful. It seems to be one of the few original trattorias left in the centre, and at least there were some locals eating there, and not just infested by tourists like myself. I’m a snob like that, always a tourist, never a traveller. I ate there on Tuesday and the food is simple, and well cooked. She was being helped by her best friend Alessandra. We should all have friends like Alessandra, she took the time to talk to, and make everyone feel very welcome, whilst helping Rita because she wants to. Perhaps “Ale” is not the best waitress in the world, but she has other skills, she says she is working on her English, I feel, that with a little practice she’ll be fine. She also says she is a great driver, the scar on her forehead and the photo of her “totalled” Porsche on her phone may tell a different story!

Dear Michael was in Italy at the same time as part of his gardening leave. He went to Naples to see some friends and improve his Italian. We would chat by text, his main preoccupations appeared to be the heat, and why he wasn’t going brown. The feet of an albino cadaver were the words he used on the day before he left. However, I feel the highlight of his trip was the fact that these feet and his legs made a cameo appearance alongside Rod Stewart and Penny Lancaster in the Daily Mail, now only if they lived next door to him, what treats would lie in store for them!

Michael also has a very sweet tooth, but he is a cheap choccie kind of man, more “Fruit & Nut” than “Charbonnet and Walker”, and that says more about Michael than you can imagine. But he arrived back in London clutching a box of chocolates for us from a shop in Naples called “Gay Odin”. As Gillian said, I’m not sure what the Norse God’s reaction to being called gay would be.

Now in every box of chocolates, there is always one! This box, full of Michael’s specially selected goodies contained the worst chocolate I have ever tasted. Each of us who tasted it, curious to the others reaction, was the same. It was made of dark chocolate, so no problem there, but when you bit into it, your mouth was filled with Brut 33. It tasted like the after shave and it smelt like the after shave, all that was missing was Henry Cooper saying “Go on son, stop coughing, it looks like you’ll splash it all over”.

In Italy they put liquers into all sorts of strange shaped bottles in order to trick you into buying them. Being from Naples I expected this chocolate to be filled with Limoncello, not Brut.

After reaching for and finding the wrong bottle to fill this handmade confection, perhaps Giacomo is out on a date somewhere, the faint smell of lemons upon his cheeks. I must ask Michael which he prefers.

And finally congratulations are in order to Eugenia for getting engaged, I know she will be very happy, and finally to Greg the “Cougar Magnet” as well. He has found someone younger to be with and Farah is beautiful. What did you put in her drink, I must try it myself…..

 

Copyright © 2012 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.