OAP bus trip to Chile

I´ve ended up in Chile on some OAP, Silver surfer bus tour of the mountains, think I must of signed up to the wrong trip but I´m having a laugh none the less. There´s a real mixed bag of odd balls on this bus, a kind of Adams family for OAP´s, I must be the youngest on board by 20 years. The weirdest fella on the trip is an exact Pinochet lookalike who was supposed to have popped his cloggs on Tuesday…maybe he missed his funeral and took the wrong bus. The Argentinian tour guide is really barking..he keeps telling any English person who will listen that he is the grandson of Dorris Grey from Barking..do you know her? Um no actually.

Anyway, its the first stage of my Patagonia tour. Great fun so far and lanscape is just incredible. More to come.

Reading: The wind-up Bird,  Hirushi Murakami, great so far

Listening on my Ipod, The Best of Burt Bacharach, just the right vibe

Vamos a bailar? (Shall we dance)

The women are beautiful in Buenos Aires.  There are striking, statuesque, uber- babes gliding around the streets with poise and confidence all over the place. The great news for any pasty white male from London is that they are everywhere, hip babes hanging around, smiling and doing their stuff. The bad news is that the fellas, known locally as the Portenos, are sharp operators. The Portenos are described as being hot headed, opinionated and emotional. Buenos Aires is a place where a Portenos losing his rag and throwing the kitchen sink out of the window for..well stepping on an ant… will get serious lady points and loads of bedroom action. Not only that, the local Portenos hold the major ace card with the ladddiiiiess, they are are simply awsome at Tango. Apparently, Tango originated from a 1900´s dance by pairs of men waiting for their favourite prostitutes. I decided to observe the Portenos-Tango- smooze kings in action at a local San Thelmo bar; a small  dark intimate Tango venue called Bar Sur, renowned for encouraging participation from outsiders.  As I glugged down a couple of jugs of pop to loosen up the nerves, I watched the slick Portenos smoozing the local beauties on the floor in their full DJ attire, the tourists clapped in appreciation. These fellas are a troupr of refined souls; tight trousers ( and no doubt a couple of coconuts strapped to his undercrackers!) pointed leather shoes and clipped small talk give them the air of being bloody brilliant at Tango and the females love it. Now it was my turn, the female hostess clapped her hands smiled and asked me Vamos A bailar, Shall we dance? I calmly excepted the invitation as the slick male tango boys stepped back and I stepped up to the centre stage with the main female tango babe. The simple yet fiendishly complicated key to tango is not to volunteer in the first place….it is a shortcut to a tourist buffoonery award. To everyone watching me, I didn´t possess the slick Tango gravitas of my BA couterparts, years of Pogo dancing and Jacko impersonations at weddings had left me with two left feet! Within minutes the slick Portenous stepped back onto the dancefloor and rescued the lady from my hapless buffoonery, .I returned to my seat as a feeling of Tango defeat crept over me but I had shown the local Portenos one thing; How to look good being bad at Tango.

Smooze language tips for impressing B.A Ladddiiiiies

Would you like a drink?    Quieros una Copa?                     

Do you mind if I sit here?  Te importa si me siento aqui

Shall we get some fresh air? Vamos aTomar el Fresco  

Do you have a boyfriend? Tieno Novo                             

Can I take you home?     Peudo llevarta a casa

What she is probably saying back to you (translated)

I´d rather not old bean    mejor que no                     

I´m here with my boyfriend Estay acqui con mi novio   

No sorry, I´ve got better things to do Losiento pero  tengo  otras  cosa mas                                                     

Stop hassling me por favour dejae de molestarme

Excuse me I need to go now! Lo sinta pero tengo que irme

Buenos Aires, City of light

I arrived in Buenos Aires safely in the early hours, mega excited, didn´t really sleep at all through the flight and somehow got the arrival times wrong, its Monday morning instead of Sunday night, o well. The city is pleasantly European in style, it feels a little like driving through the back streets of Barcelona. I checked into my guest house in down town San Thelmo, a kind of semi smart, funky part of the city and had a look around. Its a really exciting vibrant city just to wander around on foot, downtown is busy and its the most amazing bright blue sky and beautifully warm. I spent the afternoon chilling out on the roof top pool of the Crowne Plaza Pan Americano Hotel, a kind of Uber relaxation zone for city hi rollers except or course I´m just paying to use the pool and enjoying the incredible panoramic views from the 23th floor. The question is how do I make this trip the holiday of a lifetime.

Argentina Bound

I’m off to Argentina and Brazil  on Sunday for some well earned rest and adventure. As usual I’ve organised nothing except a sketchy route and 3 nights in a Low Budget guest house in downtown B.A. I did of course check the current odds of a Tsunami hitting Argentina and Brazil at the time I am there which is curently about 3 billion to one so I’m not taking any chances this time. I’ve bought all kinds of quick disaster strategies should that fucker of a wave follow me all the way to South America.

I will be updating my blog over the four weeks and  please feel free to leave any useful travel tips or suggestions below. Have a good one.

‘A graceful taunt is worth a thousand insults’- my favourite insults

A recent verbal scrape with a complete bozo-headed muppet from a digital agency prompted me to keep a few timely insults up my sleeve for future scenarios.  Here are my favourites;

“He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.” – Wini Churchill

“A modest little person, with much to be modest about.” – Wini Churchill

 Great British dissing maestro- Sir Winni Churchill

“I’ve just learned about his illness; let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.” – Irvin S. Cobb

“I have never killed a man but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.” – Clarence Darrow

“He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.” William Faulkner

“Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?” – Ernie Hemingway (about William Faulkner)

“He has sat on the fence so long that the iron has entered his soul.” – David Lloyd George

“Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I’ll waste no time reading it.” – Moses Hadas

“His ears made him look like a taxicab with both doors open.” – Howard Hughes (about Clark Gable)

“He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others.” – Samuel Johnson

“He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.” – Paul Keating

”We has delusions of adequacy” Walter Kerr 

“There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won’t cure.” – Jack E. Leonard

“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.” – Abraham Lincoln

“You’ve got the brain of a four-year-old boy and I bet he was glad to get rid of it.” – Groucho Marx

“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.” – Groucho Marx

“He has the attention span of a lightning bolt.” – Robert Redford

“They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.” – Thomas Brackett Reed

“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.” – Forrest Tucker

“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.”- Mae West

“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?” Mark Twain

“A solemn, unsmiling, sanctimonious old iceberg who looked like he was waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity.” – Mark Twain

“I didn’t attend the funeral but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.”- Mark Twain

“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.” – Oscar Wilde

“He has no enemies but is intensely disliked by his friends.”- Oscar Wilde

“He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts–for support rather than illumination.” – Andrew Lang

Got a decent insults to add? Post it on the comments below

My greatest music gigs of all time

Observer Music magazine recently reviewed what they regarded as the ‘best’ music gigs of all time. Sorry guys you missed a few; here are my favourites;

ACDC- Wembley Arena; 19th, October  1982                                                                      

My first ever music gig and without doubt my most memorable and exciting because I was just sooo relieved that after 6 months of hounding my parents relentlessly they let me go with a crowd of school pals, I was 14. Arriving at Wembley Arena I remember the whole atmosphere inside the venue was electric; the state of the audience; greasy mulletts, denim clad bikers and one bowl-headed public school boy walking around in complete awe. When Angus Young, the lead guitarist finally strolled on in his school uniform smiling under the spotlight the impact of the band almost burst my ear drums, it was 2 hours of the greatest rock n’ roll I’d ever seen. The sounds of the drums and rhythm section were just like this giant noise which made my skelton shudder with excitement. Angus, the manic lead guitarist, leapt around the stage headbanging, taunting his guitar and whipping the audience into a frenzy as he played his instrument like his whole life depended on it. I remember looking back at the crowd and seeing 8 thousand heads and mulletts shaking up and down to the sound  of ‘Angus’ ‘Angus’, this was Rock n’ roll utopia. The highlight was when Angus circumvented the whole of the arena on the singer’s shoulders wrestling through the hords of adoring fans and I leapt over and touched the ragged shorts of the guitar maestro as swept by me for one split second looking over… unforgettable night.  

 Angus Young or AC DC rocking Wembley- Oct 1982

Queen at Live Aid; 13th july

It was complete and utter chance that I got a ticket to Live Aid, (thanks Ali) none of us really knew we were witnessing probably the greatest music event of all time and I just happened to be right at the front of the crowd at 6.44 p.m when the mighty Sir frederick Mercury strolled onto the Wembley Stadium stage. Queen had alot to do, U2 had just played a complete blinder and I wasn’t much of a fan to be honest. But for Queen’s performance was the greatest 20 minute stage music show that has ever and will ever be performed, I still watch it on DVD and it is music perfection. Freddie was on fire from the word go. He whipped the crowd into an almighty frenzy, flirting relentlessly with the camera man and hamming it up at every moment. His piercing operatic vocals gyrating around the stadium bowl and everyone sung along to every word. The site of 60 thousand hands clapping will never leave me, we all knew afterwards that we’d witnessed something special.

  Freddie Mercury at Live Aid- the greatest ever 20 mins of rock’n roll?

David Gray; Brixton Academy; Dec 2001

David Gray had just broken through in the UK charts with a song called Babylon although I knew little of his music except my Irish cousins raving about him. I was with a group of about 15 , many Irish friends of my pal Sandra, a really fantastic crowd. There was a weird sense of anticpation in the crowd as he came walked on stage, and it was explosive from the first song  and the crowd sung along to every word he uttered mostly drowning out his own words but it jus tadded to the whole atmosphre. Admittedly I’d drunk alot of pop but there was a magical feeling in the Acamedy that night. He finished with a blistering version of ‘Shine’ I thought my Mother was watching me from heaven.

The Cure; Glastonbury June 1990 My first glastonbury was a feast of laughs, entertainment and craic and this incredibly memorable performance by The Cure. It was weird because the singer didn’t move a single inch throughout but the crowd went completely bananas, me included. I remember half way through the show, Robert Smith the singer stopped the show to airlift a girl out of the front by helicopter who had been crushed in the pogo dancing  madness, you could feel a sullen guilty silence afterwards as the crowd subdued until 2 songs later the singer announced the girl had recovered in hospital and launched into a blistering version of ‘inbetween days’ I was smiling for 2 days afterwards, awsome.

   Robert Smith at Glasto- 1990

George McMichael- The Swan Pub, Stockwell; Feb 1992 George Michael was playing a feted string of shows at Earls Court Stadium, £35 a ticket for the Faith Tour..Me thinks to myself on the Saturday afternoon; ’shall we go see him at Earls Court?. um..no thanks..lets go for some beers instead and see where we end up later’ 3 hours later we are watching South London’s finest impersonator..George Mcmichael, billing himself modestly as ‘the second greatest soul Singer on planet earth’ rocking the dirty, smelly drunken audience at The Swan Pub in Stockwell. Swan door policy;£5 at the door, no trainers (seriously) and leave your weapons with the bouncer..no questions asked. McMichael was the real deal; he had the full Lady Di barnet, the 80’s stubble and all the Wham dance moves..Ok we’d drunken a mighty hat-full of lagers, wine, pop ..you name it, but this felt like it was the real deal! It wasn’t the type of joint you’d take your mother-in law for a cup of tea, it was back-to-basics entertainment. Mcmichael rocked for 2 hours back to back, hits galore.. culminating in a blistering version of the classic ‘Club Tropicana’ and at that moment as I watched McMichael gyrating up on the stage and gasping in the limelight of the devoted audience.. I thought at that moment that there was probably no-one on planet earth having as much fun as us.      

 

Not a venue to take your mother-in-law for a cuppa 

Gotta a gig that was life affirming? Leave a message below and tell us some more

Bloomberg’s Asian sales maestro completes Subara Asia Challenge

Not content with selling Bloomberg terminals quicker than hot cakes, Rowley Aird, Cuda Adventure’s part-time Asia correspondent and adventurer describes how he completed the monumental challenge of the The Subara Asia race last weekend in Singapore.   

About Rowley

Rowley Aird, described by some of his Hong Kong colleagues as a modern day Indiana Jones/ Ranolf Fines  ’turbo’ adventurer, began his adventure racing career three years ago when he moved from London to Hong Kong with Bloomberg. Adventure racing is no stroll in the park; it encompasses trail running, off and on road biking, kayaking, rope work, absailing and ocean swimming over courses from 55km to 70 km which lasts 5 hours for the professsional winners and anywhere up to 10 hours for the low rollers. While selling Bloomberg terminals from his desk to hi rollers in the shark pits of trading floors of down town HongKong the idea to participate in adventure challenges was germinated..and Rowley never looked back

About the Singapore race..

Singapore is the third action Asia race of the completed by Rowley of the galactic Asia challenges where the goal is not to finish but just simply to survive. The fourth race and final event will be held in Taiwan (course length- a mere 64 KILOMETRES!!!)

Rowley recounts the emotional rollercoaster and hi and lows of the event;

Friday, 1st September; the day before the race

Left HK on friday wondering for 3 and half hours why the F!@k am I doing this again. After the last race (race 2) in Macau I did a Steve Redgrave deciding I would NEVER do this again having severe cramps towards the finish. The thing is no matter how fit and healthy you are you know that after 6 hours of racing the pain in your body is like being in hell. The irony is that the fitter you and the faster you go the more you push the body to the limits and the more knackered you are at the end. 

Arriving in Singapore I called my team mate Dan who had been my running partner in the last race in Macau. He definately had one over me in that race regarding fitness and leg endurance so I was determined not to let the side down and slow him down again. We met up at a pal’s luxury pad who happened to be away in Blighty, hooked up with some Singapore locals at a french restaurant and duly watched them all get bladdered on local red wine and lagers. For us seasoned lash-heads, it took alot of will power not to indulge.  

Saturday, 2nd September

A decent rest last night, some repulsive high energy museli, bananas and plenty of mineraled water, a swim and a round of golf (won on the 18th..nice!) preceeded the official check in at the action hotel down in Clarke Quay. This was a standard equipment check that also included some basic absailing/ rope tests..no problem so far. We then listened intently to the briefing……… EH!….O MY GOD. This was quite obviously different from the last 2 races as Mike Middas the organiser explained; because the race was flat he decided to spice up the Singapore event with bridge jumping, ‘death’ slides, quarry swimming, a 5 Km kayak against the tide, a start in the woods in pitch darness and a seriously long assault course.  O f@!!…. and all because it wasn’t hilly enough!!Mike certainly did his job of spicing up the route because we were now kacking (or kayacking) our pants with fear. The race tactics were discussed over a carbo-packed Thai meal and we heartly tried to reassure ouselves we were enjoying ourselves, fear languishing at the bottom our stomachs. A last minute run through of all the requirements and kit check with early bed at 10 p.m

Sunday, 3rd Sept; RACE DAY

Alarm; 4 a.m, Breakfast; Baked beans, bread, water pocari and museli bar, meet up at 4.45 a.m at the official hotel.

I don’t think I slept at all, my nerves and excitment were going nuts as well as not wishing to miss my 4 a.m alarm clock. I had to smile at the osurdity of us dressed for action; hydra pack, racing kit and helmet. What a ridiculous sight! a late night reveller stared at me perplexed as he staggered out of the cab. We then took the 45 minute bus ride to the start, the chat was a bare minium.

The Start of the race 

The mood was light at the starting point and people were in good spirits despite the early hour. I checked my bike and completed the warm up. As I eased to the start line a number of thoughts entered my mind; Do I have time to lay some cable in the Bathroom? Have a got any water? Have I done enough bloody training? Man..I really I hope I get a flat tyre… 

  

 ‘Have I done enough training?’ Rowley at the starting line

The race siren resonated like a thunderbolt in my ears at exactly 6 a.m, we were off and it kick started a monumental mad frantic frenzy of 300 runners (150 teams of 2) trying to scamble for dominance against the team favourites, Team Suburu from Taiwan. The group congestion quickly spread out and 2 Km into the race it had served it purpose by spreading out the initital congested frenzy.. we were well placed as running was one of our strong points. The hard part was still to come; a short 20 minute dash onto the bikes through the darkness led us onto a bridge where we quickly dumped our bikes and started the first real test; a 10 km run through total darkness. True to form we both almost ended up in casualty with narrow escapes to our faces from random tree branches, log scars on our ankles and knees and mosquitoes attachking the esposed flash on our bodies, it was now well over 30 degrees heat with little oxygen in the air, the conditions really sucked. So far so good I thought to myself and we must be in the top 10 at this stage, nice…This is where it all went ‘Pete Tong’  They always say 6 ”P” are crucial to any suucessful race; ”perfect preparation prevents piss poor performance” Right? Ok…. so the bikes weren’t exactly our bikes..we borrowed them from some pals. My bike was the business by Dan’s bike, having arrioved late Sat night hadn’t checked his properly and had ’semi slicks’ on it. So 15 minutes into the bike riding puncture number 1! O..F!@*  Now with all adventure races this is part of the package and so we quickly and efficiently changed the inner tube and 7/8 mins later continued in the hunt for the leading pack. We had We had probably lost about 15 places though, but we knew it was a long race and there would be plenty of time to catch up! Little did we know what was in store for us!5 mins later the back tire went, and puncture number 2 had to be repaired! This took a little longer and was really frustrating as by now a good 30/40 teams must have passed us. At this stage I went through a very low moment. I was tired physically but the lost 20 mins or so at this stage really pissed me off and mentally I was finished. I was tempted to tell Dan to sod the race now as it was all but over and just to meet up with our friends and have a solid boozy Sunday lunch down in Sentosa on the man-made “beach”! However, we soon got back on the bikes and made a desperate push for it. This was a challenging path with superb scenery and we passed streams, went down rocky paths, up steps, down jungle paths etc Then disaster struck. Puncture number 3! We now had no spare inner tube and thoughts were running through my head again of that Sunday roast down in Sentosa! I knew that we had done most of the off road stuff, and so we asked a race organizer who duly confirmed. We decided to go for it despite the front wheel flat. At this stage the race helicopter that was shooting footage surfaced above us and all I could think about was, wanting to trade places with the pilot.

Just got to keep going…………

We came to the end eventually, or so we thought, and had to do a quick scramble down some nets into an old quarry, but now a lake, and swam for a while. It was then back on the bikes! But it couldn’t be for much longer we thought right as the steward had already confirmed with us it was nearly over?! 20 km later we finished the biking for the day!! My partner deserved a gold medal in this feat alone, as to anyone that has experienced this, it is similar to riding through soft sand for 90 minutes! We did take this in turns a bit, although he definitely got the rough deal here. Again we lost plenty of time and even some women started to overtake us now!! It was at this point when

I thought of Lance Armstrong from the book “it’s not about the bike” and he tells of a story of an elderly woman riding past him on some hills in
Austin, Texas…you can imagine his reaction then, and ours was similar!

We then ran, swam, did some abseiling off the bridges, more running and did our best to catch up, at least on the women! This all went well at least.

Next the canoe and low moment number 2!

I found this part very difficult, not least to just get into a steady rhythm but the constant monotony of it. In out, in out, in out…!

It seemed the kayak section would not end, and I turned round to Dan at this point, and made it quite clear in no uncertain words that for record I really was not enjoying this race now (perhaps the words were a little different at the time!!). Still we reached the half way mark at the end of Clark Quay where the race registration had been, turned around and passed up through Boat Quay! On the way back we were temporarily allowed to get out of the kayaks and swim to the shore, run up on the bridge and then just jump off! What a break,   I thought to myself, but this really was a huge adrenalin rush and for a split second erased the pains in the shoulders! The real rope work then came upon us and there must have been about 5 sections to it. Essentially these entailed a hard run to the top of the bridges and then an abseil off into the river and a swim back to shore. These were great fun, although in a desperate effort to catch up, we both let go of the rope on the first one, so to do it quicker, only to completely burn our fingers, even through our gloves! The zip line was the highlight though and took me back to
Queenstown, New Zealand and that same fear of the first bungee jump. That time I made Dorcas go first, but unfortunately she was not here to save me this time! I love these kinds of activities, but only afterwards! Hanging upside down being held by a clip and having a pulley as the only mechanism to get you down was a proper shit scary moment. I asked for advice as to when we hit the water, only to get, “hold on tight and protect the private parts!” Great…the same advice I was given when asked how to cope with a grizzly bear in the Canadian Rockies almost 10 years ago!

It was most excellent though! Another huge rush had helped erase the memories of now near physical exhaustion and meltdown (the temperature was only rising by now and must have been 35+)!

We smelt the finish line at this stage and reckoned we had another 2 km run to go. We were correct with respect to this, but did not expect the 500 meters of water between us and the finish line! When we were then given 1 surfboard between us, I felt like we were doing the krypton factor! Soon we got into a rhythm with Dan’s head delicately rested on my backside (and him no doubt now wishing he hadn’t suggested baked beans for brekkie!), with me doing a front crawl action, and his legs kicking. We even overtook 3 others! A mad scramble over the beach, a climb over some more nets and a look at the watch gave us 6 hours 29 mins and 20 seconds! The finishing line was finally there! We had made it! The mirage had water!

The feeling that then proceeded was mixed. We were undoubtedly very pleased and releived to have finished but I felt somewhat subdued. It was like walking off the pitch from a hard rugby game, but on the losing side. The race had got the better off us. It was also a feeling of what might have been, as we still finished 30th and knew we could have shaved nearly an hour off this with a decent bike leg. Having said that it was a totally awesome race and as I write this, I can’t help but think of the next race, and how the tactics will vary this time around. The lessons are obvious. Prepare for all eventualities! I heard later that Team Suburu had similar problems in that their chain had actually broken, and failing to have a spare link, they found a piece of rope and took turns to actually tow the other! This though had happened only in the closing stages of the bike, but still it demonstrates the will power and determination that people have to finish despite the challenges and setbacks that they face along the way! Next time I’ll beat it!

Photos:

http://www.howiephoto.com/force%20five/2006-09-03%20%20Subaru%20Action%20Asia%20

Challenge%20Singapore%20Assignment%20by%20Action%20Asia/index.html

Other brave hero’s of 2006;

1) David Walliams; Little Britain comedy star completes epic Sports Relief channel crossing swim in 10.5 Hours! in horrendous conditions,

2) Princess Anne’s daughter, Zara Phillips wins gold against the odds at the World Equestrian Games In Germany

3) Dave Reilly sets up Barracuda Digital in Jan 06; the Worlds finest Search Engine Optimisation consultany, shakes up the web industry and gives his competitors a right shoeing.. 

Should Rowley Aird be nominated for 2006 BBC Sports Personality of the Year?   

‘No …I think it should be Zara…er yaaaaaa’ Princesss AnneJoin the debate NOW!…..and leave your comments/posts below on The Cuda Message boards

Big Chill festival 2006

  The 2006 Big Chill Gang

I was a little worried that the novelty value and expectation of this year’s Big Chill festival at Eastnor Castle may have worn off but 2006 was the best I have attended…every year seems to get more enjoyable. J

Just arriving made me remember what a stunning and completely unique location this is and why I think no other festival can surpass it, the valley which hosts the main festival site is just an incredible sight as you walk down the hillside. It’s also reasonably civilised with SHOWERS, I mean hot running water showers and excellent food! it’s the little touches you appreciate and maybe I’m just..well …..not as rock n roll as I used to be. Naturally we had a few fuck-ups; notably Nick lending Rod a tent without tent poles..I thought this was hysterical until I realised Rod would having to share with me.  In truth none of this mattered. We were all out for fun and nothing was gonna stop us.

   Rocking down at Fat Tuesdays

  Tom, Nick Me and Rod

Did I see loads more music?Ur no..but definately alot more outdoor dancing at Fat Tuesday’s and Strongbow stage which was superb..I thought the Sunday afternoon set by Norman Jay was by the far the best DJ event, he kicked of proceeding with a blistering David Bowie’s Rebel rebel and the crowd went nuts for the next 90 minutes. Also saw Lily Allan on the second stage who was tops.

 Jose Gonzalez rocks the main stage- 

One of the other memorable musical highlights (well one a I can remember with any clarity) was Jose Gonzalez, a kind of afro looking Spanish guitar virtuso, strangely he is apparently Swedish, who really captured the laid back mood on the main stage on the Saturday afternoon. We took the opportuiity to drink alot of ales while listening to his husky earnest songs. 

I was exhausted for 5 days afterwards but it was worth it for the memories; a few of which are captured in random photo’s here.

Jose Gonzalez’s album is called ‘Veneer’

My Big Chill pictures on Flickr-  http://flickr.com/photos/43189089@N00/tags/big/

Other festival’s this summer worth a punt; Bestival ; http://www.bestival.net/

Hitchin rocks to Rhythms of the World Festival

 

The most unlikely of festival experiences can sometimes delivery such galactic weekends of pure unadulterated laughter, enjoyment and high jinks that they leave me shattered with a smile on my face for days on end. The Hitchin ‘Rhythms of the World Festival’ last weekend did just that.

 

The Hitchin Rhythms of the world festival is the UK’s largest free festival spread over a weekend, with over 90 free world music acts across 3 stages, this year being on the 14th/15th July. I was staying at my good friends’ Sandra and Alastair’s newly converted palatial luxury mannor, just on the edge of town, both proud stalwarts of the Hitchin festival experience. So what amazing new world music did I see at the festival? Um..a short answer is not alot. I quickly grasped that music at the Rhythms festival is just a backdrop to a whole lot more; hanging out, watching Vicky Pollard impersonators falling over, conversing to random BBC 3 interviewers (true-it happened), meeting new folk and generally indulging in as much shoes-off craic and festival liberation as possible.. and it goes on for hours…

  Brid waxing lyrical on BBC Radio

But the real fun started after the main festival activities die down at midnight. The famous MTV unplugged format may have faded into nothingness some years ago but the format is alive and kicking in the backstreets of Hitchin. As the pubs closed down, our inebriated rable of happy friends moved onto the next stage of the saturday evenings proceedings;Ade and Brid’s house, possibly the warmest and gregarious couple I have ever met. Throw in a didgeridoo, a shed loads of ales and an assortment of seasoned lashheads and musicians and you have the most combustible and hilarious nights of entertainment I have ever witnessed. The rawness and just plain talent of musiciains I witnessed was just fantastic and the atmosphere was electric. I actually believe that at 3 a.m in the morning as I observed big John, a kind of gentle Vinnie Jones character, on his didgeridoo almost destroying my ear-drum with a monumental tune, there was no more livelier and convivial place to be on planet earth! As the shenanigans continued towards 4 a.m Patrick, Sandra’s brother, never one for shyness infront of a microphone and a drunk audience capped the evening with a hilarious belowering rendition of the Irish national anthem, most of the room were now hunched over in laughter. It was his sheer utter buffooning confidence that made it so funny.

Other festivals will be hard pressed to match the spririt of The Rhythms of the World festival in Hitchin. Go see it next year. I will be there for sure.

Thankyou Sandra and Al, Ade and Brid and all their friends for such a memorable weekend  

The Rhythms festival code of conduct (from website);

1. Enjoy the unusual, each day of the festival (yup did that)

2. Respect the town of Hitchin for hosting the festival

3. Take personal responsibility for your rubbish

4. Do not bring glass with you into the town

5. Show your appreciation

6. Leave your car at home

Tom Shepherd, part-time John Rotten inpersonator, makes his claim for the 2007 Rhythms line-up;

http://web.mac.com/gary_maguire/iWeb/Prk/Audio%20Podcasts/Audio%20Podcasts.html

Chris Reilly live from the VIP Lounge- England V Sweden

Cuda's roaming investigator Chris Reilly meet's the top brass in the VIP lounge at the England V Sweden game;    

 

''My mate rang on Friday and said he had a ticket for me to see England v Sweden on Tuesday in Cologne, with the bonus of another to see Togo v Switzerland on Monday in Dortmund if I could make it in time.

Its pricey to fly across the Atlantic this time of year so in spite of his “you only live once” entreaties I initially turned him down. Luckily though I found I had enough air miles for a return flight from New York to Frankfurt, booked the flight Saturday and on Sunday night was on my way to The World Cup. The World Cup – I just couldn’t believe it.

I landed in Frankfurt Monday morning and by 11.30 found my way to the railway station. Dortmund is a three hour ride from
Frankfurt airport. The game was to kick off at 3 so I was cutting it fine. As I was only going to be in Germany for two days, it would have been a bad start to miss the first match so I went for it.

I ran into the stadium two minutes after kick off. My mates wife and three kids were sitting in the stand and were totally surprised when I rolled into the spare seat beside them as Switzerland scored their first goal. I’m the eldest ones godfather so we’d kept my arrival a secret – smiles all round!

The stadium in Dortmund was a sea of red Swiss shirts and it seemed as if the whole Swiss Nation was there to cheer on their team – I’m told that one of the reasons why Swiss fans are generally quite quiet is because half of them speak German and half speak French so no ones quite sure what to sing at a soccer match. Not at this World Cup though, as the stadium was a sea of noise as the Swiss played to a solid victory over a dispirited Togo. By the end, the Togo medicine man, in his traditional dress and painted in green head to toe, was a rather disconsolate figure, sitting in the drizzle wondering what might have been.

No such worries for me though. You see my mate had got me a VIP ticket, which got me access to all the hospitality and top brass areas. So while the Togo medicine man was enjoying the rain of Dortmund and contemplating his damp tent in some distant carpark, I was making myself comfortable in the luxurious VIP lounge as I  wolfed down as much five star German hospitality as I could get my hands on. This world cup has been organized with an efficiency that only the Germans could manage and part of that effort apparently included emptying the country’s model agencies  and getting the very smartly dressed and extremely attractive ladies to look after the VIPs. I mean, I felt like the King of Togo – just a raised hand or a blink of the eye would bring an enquiry for more champagne, beer, food, whatever from another stunning Aryan beauty.

Close by, The Kaiser himself was holding court. Franz Beckenbauer has led the organization of this World Cup and as such he has cemented his position as the most famous man in Germany. My friends’ kids wanted to get his autograph and he obliged very generously, though I regretfully bottled out of trying to get a photo with him. I have no doubt he wouldn’t have minded. Nice bloke anyway.

Once we’d had our fill it was back to the hotel to pack (and shower in my case – I was humming nicely after the all night journey from New York followed by the race to Dortmund, the match and subsequent 20 beers) and on to Cologne.

We stayed outside the city in a Bavarian style country inn. The dozen or so guests were all either English or Swedish and most spent the evening watching the Spanish match while guzzling more of the excellent German beer. Eventually the Spanish cracked it – Arsenal’s  Fabregas is starting to emerge as a star in this tournament. Tales circulated of hordes of England fans in the city without tickets and we were all pleased we’d stayed away from Cologne the night before the match.

Tuesday morning we were up early as everyone wanted to get into town and experience the atmosphere. My friends were staying in the Hyatt hotel across the river from the City center and after discovering that the only other room left in the city was a one star at a hefty 800 euros per night, I decided to stay up all night and catch the first train to the airport. We put our stuff in the rooms and then walked over the bridge into the city centre.

And what a scene! There were crowds of  England fans thronging the entire core of Cologne. Every bar, restaurant table was filled to bursting. Wherever we walked we’d hear the dirge of “Engerland, Engerland, Engerland”. It wasn’t just English fans though, mixed in were fans from every other country in the tournament, most ticketless and all just there for the party. While there were a fair few of the usual shirtless, tattooed, scary looking thugs, the English contingent was otherwise almost completely made up of ordinary Brits there to lap up the atmosphere, support their team and to enjoy this marvelous festival of sport. Even the thugs seemed in good humour as they amused themselves with their anthems of “ten British bombers” and “I’d rather be a cabbage than a Swede”. It was really great to see the rest of the English mixing politely and amicably with their German hosts and everyone else.

'I'd rather be a cabbage than a swede' England fan

Every spare wall or hoarding throughout the centre was draped with a St.George flag bearing the name of some town or village or team from Engerland. Mingling in the crowds were a number of London Policemen in their distinctive uniforms and helmets who added to the festival atmosphere as they chatted to their visiting countrymen, Germans, Swedes and other curious fans.

We had lunch in a café close to Cologne’s magnificent cathedral after which my friends’ kids decided they wanted a bit of a rest. We said goodbye and I spent a couple of hours wandering around watching the crowds grow ever bigger as more and more trainloads and planeloads of supporters arrived.

The Germans had set up two “fan” areas along the river, each with a capacity of thirty to forty thousand to enable visitors and Germans alike to watch matches on the big screen. By 4 o’clock, these were both packed with those who wanted to watch the
Germany game. The one in the town centre was primarily full of Germans, and was cordoned off when it became too full. The surrounding bars were packed to the rafters with English fans who engaged in a chanting match with the Germans. A huge roar greeted the first German goal and this led to an amazingly loud exchange of “Deutschland, Engerland, Deutschland, Engerland….”. – All good natured but I was starting to wonder how long it would last especially as a quite a few of the younger English lot were showing signs of being rather over served.

I took a bunch of photos and stopped for a quick beer – it was very hot and becoming very humid. I chatted with the bloke next to me – a taxi driver from London. He’d come on the train just for the crack. Back at the hotel, we got ready for the big match. We’d decided to go at 6 o’clock to have a few hours before the match started at 9pm and to try to avoid the inevitable crush as hordes of fans headed to the stadium about 10km outside the city. The television news speculated that there were well over a hundred thousand Engerland fans in the city, most of whom didn’t have tickets. Apart from an incident the night before, there had been few arrests and very little sign of trouble thus far. We crossed our fingers in hope.

The long tram ride to the stadium was enlivened by a conversation with another London Taxi driver and a bunch of lads from Burnley who had semi final tickets and were spending six weeks traveling round Germany on the fantastic railways, camping and  picking up any tickets they could on the way. While the tram queued we were passed by the Swedish fans who had decided to walk en masse to the stadium. They were all decked out head to toe in Yellow and Blue, many with Viking helmets and were an impressive and colourful sight as they filled the road for about a mile. The almost exclusively male England fans all noted that if the World Cup was a beauty parade the Swedes would win hands down, as it seems that the world cup is also very popular with female Swedes who were very numerous in the crowds that passed us by.

Once inside the stadium, my friends’ 3 kids, decked out head to toe as they were in England gear attracted the interest of many of the TV crews and press photographers who were milling around so we had an enjoyable half hour as they posed for anyone who wanted a picture. Once again I had a VIP ticket though this time would be on my own. I had dressed reasonably smartly and went into the VIP area to be greeted by another bevy of Bavarian beauties and an even better spread than the previous night. I’d been warned to expect celebs and wasn’t disappointed as I chatted with Geoff Hurst and rubbed shoulders with Chancellor Gordon Brown and various East Enders actors and Footballers wives.

  Chris Reilly rubbing shoulders with the England's top brass

Again I guzzled my fill and about 45 minutes before kick off went to my seat in the VIP box. The box was otherwise empty but I got a treat as just then the England team came out to warm up. There they all were. The most famous foot in England was just a few metres away – Beckham nattered with his Swedish mentor Sven and all the England squad went through their preparations for the match. All looked serious and very focused.

I pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t just dreaming and about to wake up back in New York.The stadium filled – it was about 70% full of
England fans and the anthems came and went. The first thing I noticed was that the Swedes were managing to make more noise than the English and also sang their National Anthem rather better. The match started and everyone knows the rest – Owen injured after a minute,
England then play a half of probably their best football of the tournament capped by a sensational Joe Cole goal.At half time I had some more five star hospitality and then settled in to watch the second half demolition that was sure to come. Once again though,
England lost their way and we were grimly hanging on for the draw at the end. It was brilliant though and just fabulous to be there.

'Rooney spend most of the game screaming at his colleagues'

You see far more as a live spectator – Rooney spent most of the match screaming at his colleagues, particularly the defenders, to give him some ball. Beckham does an awful lot of instructing of the other players when off the ball, occasionally coming to the side line to talk to Sven. He spoke often during this match to Owen Hargreaves who I thought played pretty well. Future coach Steve Maclaran is very active on the touchline throughout and looked utterly enraged with Rooney at one stage as the young tyro dropped all the way back to try to get the ball. I think I’ve also figured out the amiable Giraffe Peter Crouch – that is, hes better with his feet than his head. What I mean is hes in the side because of the ariel threat posed by his height, but actually hes not a very good header of the ball but is better with the ball at his feet than other tall men.

 

'Amiable giraffe Peter Crouch'

While in the end this was a patchy performance, this England team is evolving and I’d expect the team for the next match with Ecuador to line up as 4-5-1 with Hargreaves as a holding midfielder and Gerrard pushing up to support Rooney. Crouch would be benched. While Joe Cole has been one of our stars of this tournament (with Gerrard), we badly need him to start linking better with Ashley Cole to give the team more width. Similarly, Gary Neville, if fit, should start against
Ecuador as Carragher for all the excellence of his play, doesn’t get forward enough. While very unlikely, if Neville breaks down, I do wonder if we might not see Beckham playing Right Back with Aaron Lennon further forward before the end of the tournament.

The prevailing feeling amongst the most optimistic England fans in
Cologne is that while the team still don’t look like world beaters, Sven has got a good draw with a clear route to the final. The theory is that we’d play Holland in the quarters, Brazil in the semi and then Argentina or
Germany in the final. I have a feeling that Spain and
Portugal in particular will have quite a lot to say about that and actually wouldn’t be totally shocked if the Swedes beat the Germans. We shall see.

After the match, we adjourned to the Hyatt hotel bar and partied with the Swedes until 4 am at which point I headed for the train. The Swedes have a few anthems of their own, favourite  being to the tune of “footballs coming home” it goes “ you’re going home, you’re going home,
Englands going home”. To keep myself awake on the train I chatted with another English fan in the train’s café. What did he do? Yes, he was a London Taxi driver. So, one other piece of insight – if you’re thinking about getting a taxi in London this summer rather than risk the ferocious heat of the underground, don’t bother because all the taxi drivers are in Germany at the World Cup!

Its Wednesday now and I’m back in steamy New York less than three days after I left (in fact 65 hrs after I left). In that time I’ve flown half way round the world, visited 3 German cities, seen two football games and acquired some unforgettable memories''

Thank you Germany, it was just fabulous.