Happy New Year of the Rooster

Following a dry January, and by dry I mean no Newsletter.

You didn’t think for one moment that I would, or could have given up alcohol!

Foo Dog

Foo Dog

We are well into 2017, so what does the New Year have in store for us?

Light the blue touch paper.

Those resolutions cast at the side of the road like Neil’s banana skin, organic and biodegradable. They’ll be long gone by Easter.

One or two of you have found new addictions, like following The Donald on Twitter, unlike Sky with its predictable mantra, The Donald fires off missives and fires people on a whim.

A man holding up a sign in the European Parliament saying Nigel Farage is lying to us all, no guano Watson, where were you a year ago? Surely this is how we expect our politicians to behave, expanding to a packed audience, not a dry eye in the house.

Statistics were born of Beelzebub; you can make them say anything you want, support any argument, give credence to clear water, and hence we are in the mess we are in!

The poisoned chalice of Europe is filled to the brim with hemlock, and it appears that the mandarins wouldn’t want a sip for all the tea in China.

Talks of trade deals and behind the scenes machinations have the politicians in a tizzy.

Secret societies, ‘Deep State’, the Underwater World of Jacques Cousteau, Thunderbirds are Go, Joe 90, Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons…

By all accounts they were all playing at DC10 on New Year’s Day.  By way of explanation, DC10 is a club in Ibiza (well of course it would be), it is 300 metres from the end of the runway and to the roars of the crowd planes come in to land only a couple of hundred feet above!

At New Year, I was wandering round the garden centres of Ibiza with Neil, not looking for psychotropic substances on this occasion, but an olive tree for his back patio at the new house.

Morinng Face

Morning Face

We struck a strange trio, three more unlikely amigos you are likely to find. Neil gold toothed, beanie-hatted tattooist with all the bedside manner of Neil the tattooist, Eugene; Danish sex god, sporting a black python skin jacket and matching Cuban heeled boots, et moi your basic ‘eurotrash’, looking for the perfect plant.

We would stop from time to time and discuss pruning methods to create the perfect topiary and disc like platers that will adorn said tree.

Flame trees of Ibiza

Flame trees of Ibiza

Perhaps a glass of Mezcal, Tequilla or Hierbas con hielo would aid the decision making process, so we adjourn to a restaurant and while away the hours.

Ibiza does that to you, minutes become hours, which in turn become days, one minute you were sober and completely in control of your faculties, the next you wake up next to a cactus or a prickly pear. No metaphor intended!

I strolled along the golden sands of Las Salinas without a soul around shoes and socks off, lay on the sand, paddled in the sea; I could be forgiven for forgetting that it was January.

Toe in the water

Toe in the water

From Ibiza I headed for Pitti Uomo in Florence, by comparison it was grey and damp, and full of yet more men in ridiculous outfits, I do not include myself.

Pitti as it is known has become selfie heaven, Instagram Nirvana, the more OTT the outfit, the more people hope to be snapped for an obscure Japanese fashion magazine, which is printed on seaweed and available only from a small kiosk opposite the middle school in Fukaura.

I returned to London, my aura a little shaken by the look, but have no fear; none of it will be making its way onto our shelves, so rest easy.

Dedicated followers of fashion

Dedicated followers of fashion

There will new stock shortly, but meanwhile you will have to amuse yourselves with the rantings of a man with a very long red tie.

 

Copyright © 2017 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Newsletter – Cast Off – July 2016

Please read to the end there will be some news that some of you may have been waiting for!

I have moved the information up the Newsletter as one or two of you were complaining that you were nodding off before the end!

+STOP PRESS+

The VOLPE Sale will start with previews from Wednesday 27th July 2016.

Right, so on with the important stuff.

So as the dust settles, tumbleweed rolls past the door.

A hosepipe ban is only hours away, we are basking in only the 4th day this year of over 25C, and according to Jake the year is nearly over.

They are frying eggs on the pavement… Easy-over there!

My mobile occasionally rings, I say occasionally.

When it isn’t a wrong number (stalkers from Italy), or a personal injury claim (of which I have several running at the moment, predominantly for my hurt feelings), it has been Theresa asking me to pop round and fix a cabinet, Jeremy to break up a fight in the school playground, Neptune to make him a new trident, or the FA ask for advice on how to dig a hole and then fill it in again, and again, and again.

Then there is the thud at the front door, do I dare to dream? Hollywood, a screenplay, a biopic, who would play me? I’d have to forget anyone who I ‘may’ have insulted through the magic that is this Newsletter, but as they are not named, they wouldn’t know.

The ‘D’ list definitely not, he’s done way too much Panto, and I don’t dress like Danny La Rue. Oh yes you do, Oh no I don’t. Stop!

Then there’s that other chap who got really hot and bothered by the photos of me in red Lycra. Given his physique, my vision of the romantic scenes would be of a wardrobe falling on someone, with the key still in, more cabinetmaker, than locksmith.

So it’s a case of who’s not working at the moment, and I must say it’s a bit of a struggle, as we have sadly lost a couple of candidates this year, we could have had me playing Prince, being me, but that’s just too weird even for me.

There are the usual suspects; Ryan Gosling, Ethan Hawke, Russell Crow or Jack Sparrow, even an avatar, but then I might get mistaken for a Pokemon. Go damn spot, go I say! Yet, who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him. I can hear Shakespeare a spinnin’, Macbeth versus Pokemon. “Lay on Macduff, and damned be him who first cries ‘Hold enough’!”

Ah! ‘Tempus Fugit’.

The maelstrom of political intrigue is threatening to engulf the holidays of our illustrious leaders and we are surrounded by those whose tousled locks are the stuff of legend.

Our Foreign Secretary who looks like he has been pulled through a hedge fund backwards following Brexit, The Donald whose hair is so swept over that there may be surfers trapped in there, and Uncle Bill whose split ends resulted in the most expensive haircut of all time, so spare thought as we are drawn towards le petit “Francois” who is clearly paying by instalments!

Will he be wearing a bathing cap to the beach this year, and what will be the repercussions for his coiffeur? After being paid €10,000 a month to deal with wee Franky’s helmet hair, how on earth will he banish those stray forehead tan lines and constant smell of rubber?

So whatever we feel about the gravy train, it will be followed by one carrying Hollandaise!

I’ve done a little more travelling. Aha! I hear you all exclaim at once, we were wondering how long it would take you to get there! I didn’t want to seem predictable and just rush in without a little foreplay.

I was back in Ibiza for an unveiling, well, less of an unveiling and more for a casting off. Neil had broken his wrist a month ago and finally the cast was removed. Finally God created man, and for those of you who thought I had yet more tattoos, this photo is of Neil’s hand!

Keep reading to the end!

And God created man

And God created man

And the man’s genius is starting to head in a new direction.

Mosaic

Mosaic

Limited edition, hand engraved dials for a Milgauss.

We shared a long lunch under the umbrellas of the marina and on the wander back to town I spotted a Ferrari 458 hidden under a bleached cover, sheltering from the sun.

Undercover

Undercover

On the way to the airport and Rome for a little work, I stopped at Salinas for this.

Salinas

Salinas

I spent the evening in Rome with Max and his family, at the restaurant Il Moro with the owners Stefania and Simone.

Still one of my favourite places in the world to eat, and eat we did, to a standstill, until I could not eat another thing and just sit and watch the sun go down!

Big Bang

Big Bang

 

Copyright © 2016 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.