Category: Drink

Germany, part 2: The Wurst Is Yet To Come

As I recall, you left me in a Munich beer garden, making short work of a litre of beer and a head-sized hunk of roast pork. Well, eventually I was carried to a car where I spent an hour, like a cat with butter on its paws, licking the grease from my face. And by … Continue reading Germany, part 2: The Wurst Is Yet To Come

Germany, part 1: Both Kinds Of Munich

In the gloom of a carpark near Munich’s central station, I held my breath and peered into the shadows. To my right, closer than I’d expected, I heard the metallic click of a cigarette lighter. In the sudden flare appeared the pallid, theatrically downcast face of my German contact. Through a cloud of smoke, he … Continue reading Germany, part 1: Both Kinds Of Munich

A Page from the Jetlag Diary: Milan

I love a late night flight. There’s a calm over the terminal– by 10pm the good folk are getting sleepy. None of that frantic energy of the morning, people slugging coffee, jittering, talking too loudly. At the overlit sports bar, conversation is muted; I can read my book and enjoy the cocktail that will help … Continue reading A Page from the Jetlag Diary: Milan

Oysters On The Edge Of Infinity

Stepping off the afternoon train in Bayonne I was swallowed by damp. A fine wet mist hung in the air, softening edges; it smelled of salt and mystery. I dragged my bag noisily through the pretty cobbled streets, stopping to take a breath on the Pont Saint-Esprit. I leaned on the parapet and watched the … Continue reading Oysters On The Edge Of Infinity

A Night at the Huchette

The Metro spat me out into the muted streetlights of the Place du Chatelet and I headed across the river. I’d been in Paris a week and had so far avoided the centre of town– the crowds are too young and the beer’s too expensive– but tonight was the grand reopening of one of the … Continue reading A Night at the Huchette

A Page from the Jet Lag Diary: Paris

I looked up and smiled as the lights started to swim. It was a few hours after landing, and I appeared to be at a small round table on the street outside a busy brasserie somewhere in Montparnasse. My movements leading up to that point completely escape me–  I think there was a cab ride, … Continue reading A Page from the Jet Lag Diary: Paris

Will Someone Please Explain Florida to Me?

I’m the problem. It’s me. Florida is fine– they know what they’re doing, lumbering around blinding freeways in their hulking SUVs, eating their fried fish fillets, painting stuff beige, keepin’ it familiar. It’s just that I don’t get it. I try, really I do. I went down there with the best intentions, eager to spend … Continue reading Will Someone Please Explain Florida to Me?

Back to the Beach

I’m about to board a plane for the first time in 14 months and jet down to sunny Florida. Like drug-induced hallucinogenic paranoia, it’s a state I haven’t been in for 25 years, and one I have mixed feelings about revisiting. Working the Caribbean as a lowly musician aboard monstrous American cruise ships, the town … Continue reading Back to the Beach

Reality: A Survival Guide

A crack appears, the sky darkens, and then a crumbling spewing fetid chasm opens up before you; the screams and moans of lost souls escape from its depths. What you have here is reality, and haven’t I warned you about messing with that?

Escape from New York

Entry to Rockaway is rough. The free shuttle to the beach is too horrific to consider: small, clapped-out vans with no suspension, torn broken seats, airless and stinking; on their last tour of duty before the knackery. I opt for the walk across the peninsula– it’s only ten minutes, but it’s an adventure though an almost cinematically rundown industrial horrorscape. Under crumbling rail bridges, past abandoned lots, burnt out cars; the gangs of beach-bound teenage girls in flip flops huddle tightly together, tote bags clutched nervously. But mixed with the stink of exhaust and urine, the ocean air holds a promise; and the rumble of the Atlantic infiltrates the sounds of traffic and wailing winos...