THE LOLA BOYS ABROAD !
The trails and tribulations of a dodgy duo!
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One early morning on a scruffy golden beach in the west of Sri Lanka I stood with a small boy who flew a kite made from bin bags. I had felt rubbish for a long while, but whilst standing with him and his piece of sky trash I felt uplifted. Higher than a kite. Tearful. …
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Paul sat bolt upright neath the mosquito net. Something had been scratching right next to his ear. And it wasn’t Andrew. He thought he could hear rodent breathing as he hunched up on the bed drawing his knees towards him for safety. He kept dead still and silent. In between Andrew’s snores Paul could hear…
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Paul sat in the small beach front shack in southern Goa and gazed through its rustic frame towards the horizon. The sea was placid for once, much like his mind, as the onshore breeze helped to keep his more turbulent thoughts at bay. He and Andrew were finally back in the bosom of Mother India.…
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Since the age of ten Paul had lived his life as if he were in Dallas. Or rather – On Dallas! And he ‘d still never even been anywhere near the darn place. Except on BBC 1. in the early 80s. His childhood ‘dream’ was wishing ‘Jim’ would fix it for him to be on…
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Was it egotistical to write of one’s own experiences? What else was there to write about? Even if an author took on the feelings of others or wrote fictionally about characters they’d invented it was still through the prism of their own imagination. A biography was still seen through the writer’s lense. What to include.…
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Java had been a blast. A visceral assault on the senses that had inspired Paul to erupt with a molten flow of verbose lava most of which he deemed unpublishable. It was far too volcanic. He’d reached into his core and discovered more than enough explosive material to fuel a tectonic trilogy. But he wasn’t…
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Paul and Andrew had eventually found each other in a tatty room, in an old wooden house, in an equally tumbledown town deep in the south of Thailand. Their re-connection had been as ordinary as the abode they were renting, but Paul knew that was often the case with couples who’d been together as long…
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Paul stood in the middle of the rice paddy in Ubud, an overly touristic, yet beautiful town in Bali. Her pavements were as cracked and decrepit as the numerous temples which studded the craggy urbanisation. Ancient jewels gleaming amongst the tacky souvenir shops. Gigantic poles of palm and bamboo, known as Panjur, decorated with fruits…
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Lamphu House lay secreted down a hot, concrete, flip-flop clad alley. If one didn’t have a map it might never be found. It was what might be termed as old school. A hippy hideaway in the centre of Bangkok without the hip prices. The place was certainly authentic. The cackling of the girls and…
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Paul sat in the shade of a wafting Tamarisk spared from the hot pale sand of the Greek beach and watched the ferries come and leave in the distance. He found it mesmerising to spectate as travellers came and went as he sat still. Not yet having to move. Having the audacity to stay for…
THE LOLA BOYS ABROAD ! 