Like most people, probably, I love Britain much more when I’m a good few thousand miles away. When I’m there, its nothing but a cesspit. Though when I’m away, its at least MY cesspit. So imagine, if you will, my upset when, trying to download my Times newspaper my sodding app just wouldn’t do it – Read More-
Today we did a little trip. Well, it was 520 kilometers all in, but was probably the best day trip anywhere in the world, ever. Unless you were there when the Berlin Wall came down (Thompsons: end of Communism special, £476 including flights and B&B, which in this instance stands for Bratwurst and Bundesliga, find – Read More-
So why come to Salta, Argentina? Ever heard of it? Neither had I. Until the younger daughter, in gap-yaaah mode, arrived here a couple years ago on leg 17 of her ‘Drink South America’ world tour. She fell asleep on a bus in Buenos Aires and woke up in Salta. Fine, there are bars there; – Read More-
Getting into Argentina wasn’t hard. We drove. Because Igausu (the portuguese way) borders Iguazu (Spanish) between the two countries. You cross a couple of guardrooms, they stamp your passport and its bienvenidu Argentina. Or whatever. And thus our flight to Salta (Argentina) is an easy, domestic, national flight, easy-peasy. And the airport is quaint and – Read More-
We survived Rio de Janeiro. I’ve got the t-shirt and everything. 5 days of paranoia and we left in one piece with our watches, money, cameras and phones still all in our possession. Against all the odds, if everyone is to be believed. We were even stopped, on our bikes, in the traffic the other – Read More-
Mel & I took a couple of bikes and rode all the way to Ipanema, about 2 miles away. Doesn’t sound far, its as flat as a pancake, but the 37 degree heat doens’t help much. Neither did hitting a sodding bump in the pavement and in the ensuing tumble (during which I never looked – Read More-
Ever had a ‘dream within a dream’? You know, when you ‘wake up’ but actually you haven’t, you’re still dreaming but think you’ve awoken. I had that yesterday. I had a nap in the afternoon, I’m allowed, I’m on holiday, and I dreamed that when I woke up Spurs were beating Chelsea 4-1. Obviously a – Read More-
and she dances on the sand. (Duran, Duran, nineteen-eighty-something, the world’s first ever ‘fuck-off’ music video, as in one that cost more than 30 quid to make in me mate Dave’s garage. And the world’s most poseurish, stylised, vain, totally self-conscious band of tossers. Yet in fact a great song. As long as you can – Read More-
That’s Jesus. Christ the Redeemer as its known locally. And it is truly magnificent. I’m not a particularly religious man, certainly not big on Christianity and not too sure about worshipping graven images. Though it must be said, people don’t come to visit Christ the Redeemer to worship. They visit to take selfies. That’s the – Read More-
Chelsea suffered the abject humiliation and dire, almost-unheard-of misery yesterday of actually not winning a match. What a fucking tragedy. How shameful. Can they ever hold their gelled-up heads up again in decent company? Not that Chelsea players would mix with decent company. And so unaccustomed are the boys in blue to such failings that – Read More-