Alarm Cocks!

Paul knew Andrew had always enjoyed cock in the early morning, but the noisy dawn chorus which now woke them for the fourth day in a row at 4.28 am was insufferable to them both. Andrew had often crowed irritatingly about being a ‘morning person’ but even these avian alarm cocks where too much for him! Some of the cocky birds began their wooing at just before midnight up on the Mekong, making it clear to Paul that their body clocks were completely out of cock. This rabble of roosters, […]

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I Miss Saigon.

Her crown may be glitzier, her gown may have more sparkle, yet her face is almost unrecognizable. Lifted, filled and bulldozed to make up an entirely different visage to the one I met here, almost twenty years ago. Lucky enough to be sailing and performing on The Q.E.2., we docked here, on the Saigon River,  on two magnificent occasions.  I recall such a colourful connurbation, full of oriental mystery, not to mention some mysterious orientals. My great friend, Becky and I, had a thrilling time, being pedalled around the ancient, incensed streets, by Ting, our trusty rickshaw pedlar. At once engulfed in narrow, smoky, lanes of boiling, mammoth pots containing unthinkable cuisine. Animals pulling carts of exotic produce, and children and chickens and dogs, and what seemed like a million other vibrant and virulent actors all adding to the richly foreign pantomime.  We fell in love, there and then, with Miss Saigon. It was the Saigon I had imagined a few years before, when I saw Andrew at his brilliant best, starring in the show of the same name, at Drury Lane. Exhilarating, unnerving, dissarming.  And like Mr Kennedy, utterly enchanting. And now, I have returned. I have searched in vain for this former enchantress.  The bygone Saigon.  But she just doesn’t want to show her hauntingly, nuanced face. Sometimes, all cosmetic surgery seems to do,  is mask the true beauty, however uncompromising, that was once plain for all to see. […]

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I Miss Saigon.

  Her crown maybe glitzier, her gown may have more sparkle. Yet her face is almost unrecognizable. Lifted, filled and bulldozed to make up an entirely different visage to the one I met here, almost twenty years ago. Lucky enough to be sailing and performing on The Q.E.2., we docked here, on the Saigon River,  on two magnificent occasions.  I recall such a colourful connurbation, full of oriental mystery, not to mention some mysterious orientals. My great friend, Becky and I, had a thrilling time, being pedalled around the ancient, incensed […]

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Birds Of A Feather.

Back in ‘Blighty’ for the first time since spring and  Andrew and I seem to have brought the spanish  sunshine with us.   As torrential storms batter the Costa Del Sol, we have been more fortunate – basking in the warm glow of a beautiful british autumn. We are returning to our home shores for a mini UK Lola Boy tour – Seddlescombe, Hastings, London, Liverpool, Emsworth and Brighton. Beyoncé eat your heart out ! We began our trip in Battle.  That famous spot where good King Harold famously came […]

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Theatrical Digs!

And so we hit the uneven boards at our local chiringuito last night, with sand and french toddlers under our feet. A somewhat crazy night, awash with absolute, sincere appreciation shown by some, mixed with a little disbelief from others, and just a dash of disrespect from a few more. A strange, and not to be repeated, cocktail. I’m afraid if I knock it back again, I may knock a child out as the result! Not the best idea to let your kids run riot when there are two, nearly high-kicking, […]

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