Shantaram

When I went on my pre-trip book buying spree at Daunt Books in Marylebone, I kinda went for things I’d vaguely heard of but had no real idea what they might be about. I got One Day and The Corrections and my third choice was Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts.

In the days leading up to my departure at least two people whose opinions I respect mightily when it comes to books asked me if I’d read it, and said I must do so.

As it was the thickest of the books I brought with me, and of course it’s set in India, I figured I’d read that first. That way even if it wasn’t as good as people said, I’d be lowering the weight in my carry-on bag and at least I’d get some tips on India.

Well, I started reading it last Thursday night and finished it yesterday (Thursday) morning. What a cracker! I’m sure being here and having gone to one of the places he writes about quite frequently (Leopold’s in Mumbai) made it more real for me, but his insights into the Indian mindset and his descriptions of the people really hit home to me.

I don’t know how much I would’ve loved it had I not been in India when I read it, but I’m willing to bet it would still make a huge impression. It’s billed as a novel but from what I can work out, there’s a helluva lot of autobiography in there too - he wrote the book in an Australian Prison, so that much at least must be real life - and it struck me that it’s the perfect way to write about times in your life when you weren’t perhaps the most law-abiding of citizens. Put it all in there, change a few names and call it fiction! Perfect.

Goa Twenty Years On

So my time in Mumbai came to an end all too soon. I was so well looked after at the Taj, I fear it may have spoiled me for the hotels to come on this trip. The concierge and travel desks were wonderful, confirming my flight, checking me in and printing my boarding pass, all at no charge. Then they rang the cab driver I’d found outside the hotel to come and collect me for the airport and escorted me to his taxi. Just wonderful.

My cabbie was the same guy who’d taken me on my market tour the day before and he carried on being a tour guide as he pointed out the important buildings and the miles and miles of slums that line the roadside. He showed me the one where they filmed Slumdog Millionaire, though I suspect that could have been any of them to be honest!

I was similarly blessed with good people at the Kingfisher check in desk. Their website is full of warnings about one piece of hand luggage and a case weighing no more than 20kg. Any excess would be charged at £20 per kilo the website said. I had two pieces of hand luggage and my case was a shocking 24kg, I had my wallet out ready to pay but the lovely lady at the desk just smiled at me and put the tag on my case.

Security was easy enough, though the man was very interested in my selection of books. Obviously I’ve brought Shantaram with me, and he assured me I would love it. As I started reading it, he was right, I do!

At Goa Airport, again things ran very smoothly, and before long I was waiting on the kerb for my driver. I’d booked a pick up with the hotel, just makes things easier. This one however, decided he would increase his income by taking another passenger, despite me booking him for myself and paying over the odds for it.

What pissed me off was that nobody asked me if I minded, and when I asked who he was I was told three different stories, none of them true. It was a taste of things to come unfortunately.

When I arrived at the hotel - the journey took longer than it should cos of dropping off matey boy - it was a bit of a shambles to be honest, but after all this was costing about the same for 12 days as the Taj cost for two (more or less) so I couldn’t expect the earth!

I went to my room, which was actually an apartment overlooking the pool, complete with living room that I don’t need and have yet to use, unpacked and got changed. Then I went down to reception to get a map and check my emails.

This was the cue for hassle number two. No wifi. Even though their website advertises and makes a big deal about the fact that they’re wifi enabled, they’re not. Well, they said they weren’t but all around me in the lobby were men using iPads, laptops and assorted smart phones all surfing the web. I asked how they managed to all get online and was told that they were from NASA and had brought their own wifi with them! Wtf????? Now regular readers will know I am not the most technical of women, but even I know that you can’t bring your own wifi and these guys weren’t fucking astronauts!

What it was, was a geeks convention, and I eventually found out they’d spent a fortune for exclusive access to the wifi. Somehow the network was restricted. I calmly informed the manager that it was for the best that I moved to another hotel, one that delivered on it's promises, and a full refund was required. A lesson I've finally learned over the past few years is that shouting and bluster gets you nowhere, but calm, measured even respectful tones get you everywhere!

Well what do you know? Suddenly solutions were being found. A dongle was produced which didn’t work, then suddenly it turned out the NASA boys would let me use their 'personal' wifi but I'd have to pay the hotel 500 rupees a day for it. Another request for a full refund was made and before I knew it I was being told I could use it for free.

Turns out Goa isn’t very internet friendly, compared with SE Asia where even the most remote beach hut can connect with the world, Goa is a bit shit. I’ve been here a couple of days and have yet to see a single cafe offering wifi! So they weren’t bullshitting about that part, but they did lie about everything else and that was what pissed me off.

You may notice I am not naming them yet, I will, once I’ve checked out but I have to stay here a few more nights and don’t want them evicting me! Let's just say it shares a name and a customer service ethic with a hotel I've stayed in many times in Leicester!

Other than that, this part of Goa - Calangute - has been massively developed in the 20 years since I was last here and not for the better it must be said. The beach is just simply not nice, rammed as it is with massive beach shacks, not the little quaint ones that were dotted along the beach all that time ago, and if you manage to dodge them you’ll be swamped by hawkers selling everything under the sun.

Consequently I’m choosing to spend my sun-worshipping time by the hotel pool, so far there’s only been a couple of us there which is ideal, I’ve not had to share the pool with a single other person yet!

For all my whinging I have to say that I absolutely love the people I’ve met so far (apart from the lying c**ts obviously) the hotel staff are lovely and I’ve had a laugh with a couple of waiters in the restaurants I’ve visited.

The food here is divine, I guess one benefit of a busy resort is that everyone has to try harder to serve good fresh food. I had the most delicious swordfish with veggies for my dinner yesterday!

I’ve resisted the urge to buy anything tie-dye, and believe me there’s plenty of it about! Tonight I visited the Saturday Night Market in Ampora, which is huge! Of the hundreds of stalls there I’d say half was flogging the generic hippy shit that you’ve seen every gap year kid wearing for the last 20 years! What was most entertaining though was the look in the eyes of the long-termers here. Some people really do need to head home.

Apparently dreads on a white guy (or girl) is still a hot look, and most of them have that Kerry Katona totally insane wide-eyed look going on! They’re all overly tattooed, pierced to buggery, wearing bits of fabric and leather that make them all look like extras from Mad Max - there’s a real post-apocalypse vibe going on here that hasn’t changed since the last time I visited, it’s just expanded!

I’m loving the experience of being here, if only because it’s helping me tick off the places I wouldn’t wanna spend the rest of my life! The sun feels bloody lovely though.

Mumbai Baby!

And so the adventure begins....

The upgrade might not have happened but as I settled into my very spacious "World Traveller Plus" (aka Premium Economy) seat and noted that the one next to me was empty, I was kinda cool about not having a half bed in the next bit of the plane.

My heart sank initially when a young woman and her baby sat across the aisle - I once did a flight to Melbourne with a baby that cried all the way from Heathrow to Singapore - but this little boy was the most amazing child I've ever met! Less than 5 months old, he didn't cry once! When he was awake which actually wasn't often enough, he was just adorable, smiling and laughing. Especially at me for some reason! I guess he knew what my initial thoughts about him were and he was showing me just how wonderful he was! Anyone who knows me, especially those friends with kids, know that I am not someone who goes gaga over a baby, but this little critter stole my heart!

Anyway, after the peace of the flight, came the madness of Mumbai. A long old wait for my luggage but I was being collected so wasn't too worried about that, I was just glad it arrived after the Moscow debacle.

Immigration and customs seemed much simpler than I remember it being on previous trips to India, and before long I was being led to my "limo". Ice cold water and an ice cold towel to freshen up were produced and I promptly fell asleep for most of the hour long drive into town.

The Taj Palace is probably the swishest hotel I've stayed in - certainly in terms of reputation - and I could certainly get used to the level of service you get from the staff from the get go. After going through the metal detectors just outside the entrance (there for obvious reasons) I was met by a very glamourous young woman who swept me past the front desk and straight up to my room. No hanging about waiting to check in here - it ain't the Ibis!

I unpacked and fell into bed. It was only about 4pm but I was exhausted. The running about and the pre-trip stress really made all my lupus symptoms flare up, and when you add jet-lag to the mix it's not good.

I woke up a couple of hours later and after a quick shower and change of clothing I was off out exploring. Once I was on the street the hassling began but after a good few years of travelling I've learned the best way to deal with persistent hawkers is to smile lots, and pretend you haven't got a clue what they are trying to say to you! I love watching people attempting to speak Italian to me. It happened in Kuala Lumpur and Moscow, now here. After years of being asked if I was Dutch, it makes a nice change!

I found the infamous Cafe Leopold and as it was way past my dinner time I headed in. I haven't read Shantaram yet - it's in my bag ready to go - but from what I've heard the book gives an accurate description of this place. I had a very delicious butter chicken which I washed down with a mango lassi - I was stuffed!

Checking out all the clothes and jewellery stalls that line the Colaba Causeway, it happened. Finally readers my big showbiz break came about! I was approached by a rather overweight, sweaty man with Trevira (google it) trousers and plastic loafers and asked if I wanted to be a big star in Bollywood! Oh yes! Discovered at last!

I stifled my laughter as best I could, as he went through his speech, sweating more and more as he repeated the question 'do you know Bollywood?' over and over. Only too well mate! Certainly well enough to know that there's not a huge call for middle aged western women in Birkenstocks! I kept thinking of dear Jason Wood who used to do a wonderful Bollywood tribute in his act and wishing he were with me - we could've both been Bollywood stars!

Yesterday I hired a driver for the day and he took me all over the city to see some sights and check out some markets but after a couple of hours the lupus got to me again and I had to head back to the hotel for some sleep. I made it to the pool for a swim and some afternoon tea before heading off out again.

This time to have a good look at the Gateway to India and the harbour

then off to Chowpatty Beach which according to Lonely Planet is the only place to be. Sadly nobody told the people of Mumbai, bit of a let down to be honest! I'm coming to the conclusion that Lonely Planet guides are written by people who take backhanders to recommend stuff. Whenever I've followed their recommendations to the letter it's always been a let down. Here, Thailand, Laos, Kuala Lumpur. Oh well. Lesson learned.


Right now it's breakfast time - which is delicious here by the way - before I start wrestling with my luggage to make 24 kg weigh 20kg for my budget flight to Goa!

Broooooooooooooooooooce!!!!!!!!!

So my second non-comedy Saturday night was spent watching mainly Bruce Springsteen night on BBC4. There was a fabulous documentary on the making of Darkness on The Edge of Town which just had me spellbound.

It also took me right back to a very special point in time in my life. Darkness was the first Springsteen album I bought and I bought it because I had heard two tracks - Prove It All Night and Candy’s Room - and fell in love with them on first hearing. The fact that it was Mick Jones from The Clash playing them for me in his hotel bedroom at the Holiday Inn in Liverpool back in 1978 may have influenced me. I know it influenced Pete Wylie who was there at the same time!

For the record, there were no shenanigans taking place! I was there to see The Clash play at Eric’s and having already interviewed them for my fanzine The Ligger, had been invited to the hotel to chill out before the gig.

As I was typing those words it hit me how mad that sounds! It really was innocent. I was 17, a virgin, and drank a diet coke and nobody made any untoward suggestions - bastards!

Anyway, Mick had got a copy of Darkness and played us those two songs, and that was it for me. When I got back to Preston I hit Brady’s record store and bought myself a copy. I played it to death, over and over and loved every single track. From there of course, I went back and bought Born To Run, The Wild The Innocent and The E Street Shuffle, and Greetings From Asbury Park NJ. I found Born To Run very easy to love and Jungleland was just a mini movie in my head as I listened to it.

What helped as well I guess was that Mr Springsteen was never too shabby on the eye. He still isn’t! So I listened to the albums, swooned over his photograph and waited for the day he might come to the UK and play beyond London.

Over time, I moved to London, then to Birmingham and onto Canada for a brief post-Dexys spell. It was there that I got my chance to see him. In the Toronto Star I spotted and advert for a trip to Buffalo, just over the border in the US, to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band on The River tour. This was 1980 and that double album was driving my aunt mad as I played it at every opportunity. I dashed to the tour company’s office and handed over about $100 for the bus and the gig ticket.

It was a long old schlepp but my god it was worth it. It was one of those big old enormodomes that are common even here now, but at the time it seemed as big as my old hometown of Preston. I think the local ice-hockey team played there most of the time. We were in our seats at least an hour before showtime and I was entranced by this noise that reverberated around the entire stadium. It sounded like boo-ing but of course, it was 10 or 15 thousand people all chanting Brooooooce! Amazing.

I knew very little about what to expect. I had heard that they did long shows, but after years of punk gigs anything over 45 minutes was long! I was wondering who the support act would be, and as the lights dimmed got the biggest shock as I realised we were straight into the main course, no support for Bruce!

Four and a half hours later he left the stage for the final time, after a series of encores. I was spent. It was deep winter outside but I was soaked in sweat from dancing and singing along the entire time. It was magical

I saw Bruce Springsteen many more times after that, in Toronto, at Manchester Apollo (!), Birmingham (where I even got to meet him and get a much prized autograph) and several Wembley gigs, and they were all awesome experiences, but none of them really came close to that very special first time.

Thank you BBC4 for rekindling those memories!

Bolshoi Baby, Bolshoi!

So Christmas Day was spent doing a few different touristy things.

For a start, it wasn't Christmas Day here in Moscow, that's on 6 January, which meant that the Izmaylovo Market was open for business as usual. In order to get there I had to travel by Metro and a different line to the ones I'd already used. One of the stations had the most amazing sculptures on the platforms!

If you're planning your own trip, its the brown "circle" line that appears to have most of the decorative stations.

In keeping with a lot of Moscow landmarks the site of the market looks a bit "disney-fied". It's all storybook castles!

as you can see.

It was another bitterly cold day and my River Island acrylic wasn't holding up too well, so when I saw a full-length Beaver-fur coat being sold by a little old lady I scattered all my 'meat is murder' scruples to the wind and tried it on. Obviously several generations of her family had died in this thing but my god I felt like someone had just turned the heating on full! It was so warm!

The old dear wanted about £70 for it and as it fit like a glove I felt it was my duty to pass on some of my western wealth to her. With that on I could take my time and check out all of the stalls without freezing my tata's off!

As you can see by some of these photos, the Russians aren't squeamish about killing animals or wearing their fur, and while I couldn't actually kill any living creature, I can accept their very real need for the warm these skins provide.


After a good old wander around a few of the stalls - to be fair it's enormous and would give Bangkok's Chatuchak market a run for its money! - it was time for a cup of steaming hot green tea and the metro back to the hotel.

I spent the afternoon in the steam room and the pool, before getting ready to pop another one of my cherries.

Now I know most of you will find this incredibly hard to believe but I have never been to the ballet before - ever - so as I was in Moscow it seemed like a good idea to see my first one at the Bolshoi. Sadly it wasn't in the proper Bolshoi Theatre, that's still closed for renovation, although as you can see from the outside it looks pretty fixed up already!

The ballet would be taking place in the substitute Bolshoi, the Bolshoi 2 if you like, and the programme consisted of two world premieres Herman Shmerman and Rubies, plus one other piece, Serenade. There's more info here http://www.bolshoi.ru/en/season/press-office/pconf/archiv/index.php?id26=1703

I was absolutely spellbound! The first one was a classical piece and the other two more modern - which I preferred - but all three were marvellous! It was just a magical experience. The perfect end to a lovely (Not) Christmas Day

Moscow Zoo!!!!!!!!

On Christmas Eve the snow decided to come down with a vengeance. Undeterred, I bundled up with five layers of thermals and assorted bits of woollen clothing, and after yet another delicious breakfast, I wandered off in search of the zoo.

The awesome concierge at the hotel not only talked me through where to go on the metro, she also printed out Google maps and gave me her mobile number in case I got lost. Wonderful.

I trotted off to the metro station and within about 20 minutes I was paying for my ticket. It was like I was a princess and had my very own Zoo, apart from the keepers, I was the only person in there! In what is becoming my new Christmas tradition (I spent Xmas Eve last year at Berlin Zoo with barely another punter in sight), I set off exploring. The first animal I saw was this little critter who was absolutely loving the snow!

In the next enclosure were the polar bears, a mum, a dad and two adorable cubs! These animals too, were undeterred by the weather and the sight of me in my black furry (acrylic) coat certainly got their attention!

The mum and kids were well away from dad, guess he was a bit grumpy

I stayed watching these adorable creatures till my feet began to freeze!



Luckily for me, I was close to the Monkey house, so before my feet froze and fell off I was in the warm. I'd forgotten about the coat, but my god it really caused a stir with the primates! The little ones were intrigued.

The gorilla however, thought he had competition for his wife's affections!

While the Orang utan family were all pretty curious.

I have to say that while I accept that in an ideal world there wouldn't be zoos and all animals would live in the wild and safe from harm from humans, I am grateful they exist because I get a chance to get up close to these wonderful creatures. However I did well up when I watched them in this small enclosure. Having seen the ones in Borneo living in the rainforest, swinging from tree to tree, it made me sad to see that little baby and know that he'll never have that joy.

I could have happily stayed in there all day but there were more animals to see, so I was once again out into the freezing cold. The snow was really coming down and the Zoo was resembling a ghost town! I found the big cat house and look at who was there!

Apart from the white tiger, there were these two


Finally, a trip to Moscow wouldn't be right without bumping into at least one of Alexander's relatives would it?

So there you have it, just a few of the fabulous creatures at Moscow Zoo, by then I was so cold there was nothing to do by nip off to the nearest caff for Spiced Apple Tea and Nutella and Banana filled pancakes!

So Then, That's It ... For Now!

Today is 1/1/11.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I am old enough to remember that being on a poster back in the 70's and thinking that it was a load of old hippy bollocks. This morning, when I woke up in that very basic room in Leicester a 6.45 (without an alarm!), I really did feel as thought something was different.

I know that, in reality, nothing's changed but the numbers on the calendar or on the clock, but it really does feel as though things have shifted significantly in my life as of today.

For one thing, I'm "retired" or "on a break" or whatever you want to call it, but for the first time in 17 and a half years there's not one marking in my diary that says "gig". I did rather think I might be sad when the end came, but, in the end I wasn't.

This could be down to the fact that my last gig was in a club and a city that has a million and one memories for me - both good and bad - I think that perhaps it was the perfect place to bow out for a while because although I'm always happy to work there and the audiences have never been less than fabulous, it is a place I'm kind of ok with never seeing again.

In my best efforts to be diplomatic, that is no reflection on Leicester, but the hotel is a shithole and just like every other single time I've played there over the years it took several changes of room to find one that was clean and didn't stink of stale piss and had lights that work. Oh I am very demanding when it comes to hotel rooms!

The club too, has seen better days. It looks a bit shabby and neglected (and has done for a good few years now) in spite of the wonderful staff's best efforts. There's some new kind of lighting rig there that had me convinced there'd been a power failure. I did extra time at the top of the show while I waited for them to fix it! Seems to me that - for most performers at least - you need to see some of the audience, and be seen by them! Call me crazy.


Anyway, even with all those things, I had fun onstage, the audience had fun, and I got to say bye to some more of my comedy chums. I was back in the hotel watching Jools' Hootenanny by 11.30 thinking "I could've been there". My good mate Steve had a spare ticket and asked if I'd like to go with him to the recording, sadly I was working.

This morning as I sat on the train that hurtled towards London with an almost unseemly haste, I really felt as though a whole new, positive chapter had begun in my life. I came home to an envelope jammed in my letter box informing me that I was due a fairly nice tax refund and then spent most of the day de-junking and scrubbing my kitchen. Not very glamourous, but incredibly satisfying!

2011 has already been kinder to me than the whole of 2010 put together, and the first day of the rest of my life has been a blast!