it still blows me away how there’s a train out of london that goes under the sea,and ends up in the centre of paris a couple of hours later.you leave paris after lunch to be back home in the kitchen by dinner time…..y’know not all of modern life is rubbish…so much is good.
we’re both drawn to the jazz. we’re not buffs by any stretch,so it’s mostly a bit of a guessing game,but in paris, jazz is everywhere,and we took a chance on a young american called james brandon lewis.we missioned towards a tiny little club called ‘le duc des lombards’ where they did punchy cocktails…thomas drank his usual lovely smelling ‘old fashioned’,and i had my heady tequila,then this good-looking fellow hits the stage armed with his saxophone,drummer and double bassist….right then and there i worried…no piano..no guitar…no sweetener…it was a racket of a noise…like ornette coleman or something..the drummer didn’t nail down a groove once…it was wild,and i felt anxious that thomas would be bored,but he was the one getting into it.the lesson i learn there was never under rate your partner… when you worry about others tastes or limitations,maybe it’s time to just check your own. the james brandon lewis set was mercifully short,and was followed by a more traditional jazz band with all the sweetener i could wish for,yet it’s that mad james brandon lewis sound that lingers…he’s a good memory…the drummer came down afterwards and talked to me….. a sweet sweet boy from maryland[?!] now living in new york…quizzing him on how he survives there, he tells me playing in conventional cover bands doing weddings and bar mitzvahs helps pay the rent … i asked him if tonights music was influenced by ornette coleman,and i can’t remember if it is or not,but he did say he’d been round to his loft…..to play pool with him!@£$%
the next day we went to a huge exhibition of art brut…do you know what art brut is?…it’s a term coined for work by extremely creative folk who’ve had a life in mental institutions,or have been pushed to the very edges of society…so there’s very detailed work by souls with aspergers syndrome…schitzophrenia..that sort of thing….a lot of it was a true cry for love,safety and understanding…heartbreaking..it went on and on and on forever,and just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore,you turn a corner and something else was there ready to blow you away again..we loved it…it knackered us.we were there for a good three hours.
no trip is complete without a roll around the gutter,so a final hoot was a paris gay leather bar. it was quite late, and wasn’t busy except for three hardcore hairy bears who were very into each other…one of them was getting a right flogging by the other two…thomas got bored and left me to watch..he’s seen it all before, and outgrown all that malarky..so he left for bed…and then everybody left till the only folk there were myself and these three handsome bears going hell for leather….just when i thought it couldn’t get anymore interesting,one pulled a police truncheon out of a bag,and attached a big rubber dildo on to the end of the weapon…he then slathered the customised truncheon in axelgrease before feeding the hungry angel with what he wanted…the cries of ecstasy from him were fantastic..one of the chaps then pulled a condom over his own fanny hammer and attempted to ride his colleague, but he couldn’t get a strong enough erection..it didn’t seem to matter,so he went back to his truncheon for a while,and then the passive one made a supreme howl of ecstasy which punctuated the end of the evening …they spent the last half hour winding down, then they left together like one happy little family .
midway back to london on the eurostar a woman appeared to ask if i’d answer some marketing survey questions..she asked why we’d upgraded to economy plus or whatever it’s called, and i said “lower middle class snobbery”..the young chap opposite giggled at my answers to her questions,and he,it turns out works for that fresh fruit juice company called ‘innocent’..i told him i drink that muck everyday and like it a lot.i warmed to that brand of juice five years ago cause it was a small cottage business making a very pure product,but he tells me it’s just now been bought over by…..wait for it…….COCA COLA!@£$%^&
on the very last part of the ride home on the train at finsbury park station,a mother, grandmother, with young kids get on and sit right by us…and i’m like oh no…but hopefully they didn’t pick up on that..still it was real selfish of me….i sat watching this young mother and grandmother deal with these well behaved,yet active children..it gradually dawned on me how tired these ladies looked,yet there was a real joyful bond between them…they were so selfless and kind to these constantly curious kids….the grandmother got off at the same station as us,and it was apparent to anyone within earshot that i didn’t recognise where we were, cause the platform had undergone a refurb,and she chimed in to reassure me i was indeed at the right station…she even selflessly directed us to the new lifts, cause she could see we had heavy suitcases…this was all from a grandmother who was exhausted from taking kids round the zoo and buckingham palace all day……….i will never groan ever again when mothers with young active infants board a train…i live and learn not to be such a tight arse.
paris is becoming familiar now…i do like the parisians.. the woman have a natural poise and elegance..they’re maybe more forthright than the english..they get straight to the point…many who know more may laugh,but i can’t say the food is wonderful…london has seriously upped it’s own game over the last ten years….i had the worst moules mariniere on this trip…but then i also had the worst pasta ever in italy… in rome…right there in vatican city.
more than anything, there’s thomas … his kindness and patience..i wasn’t always the greatest of company…i was having the head staggers before we even left,but he was a pure doll to me and i love him….and hats off to you dear reader..i hope you found this little missive a worthwhile read…mary fairy liquid.