A Stolen Idea: An Interview With Myself (Sort Of)

I don't normally buy newspapers but I did today and in the Traveller section of the Independent, there's a QA session with John Cooper Clark which was a great read - presumably this section called My Life In Travel is in the mag every week. I would say that I will pick it up again next week but I'll have forgotten about it by then so instead, just for some fun, I thought I'd steal all the questions from the piece and answer them myself. Let's do this thing:

First holiday memory?

Blackpool with my grandparents. I guess we would have gone by train because nobody had a car back then. It sounds idyllic to me now but it was probably done on a budget of hardly any money at all because there simply wasn't any. This would have been my first introduction to Punch and Judy, saucy postcards and being the proud owner of a bag of pennies to distribute wantonly in amusement arcades, but the highlight would have been getting to see the brilliant clown Charlie Cairoli in Blackpool Tower. A few years ago, I found out that in 1939 he performed for Hitler who presented him with a watch for his trouble. When war broke out, Charlie walked to the end of Blackpool Pier and threw it in the sea. They don't make them like they used to that's for sure - and there's something really sad about that.

Favourite place in the British Isles?

That's a tough one. I have a huge soft spot for Braunton in Devon, but then I also love Llangollen in North Wales - when I think of 'home', that's where I always gravitate to. We didn't live there for very long but when we did, it was in the shadow of Dinas Brân which suited me just fine. Considering how it dominates the town and its age, there's not that many legends that spring from it, but this is a good one which I can't be bothered to type out so I'll cut and paste it as it stands:

The castles first literary appearance is in a 12th century historical document entitled "Fouke le Fitz Waryn," or "The Romance of Fulk Fitzwarine." In this tale the castle, named "Chastiel Bran," is referred to as a ruin during the early years of the Norman Conquest. The tale continues to tell of an arrogant Norman knight, Payn Peveril, who hears that no one has had courage enough to stay overnight inside the castle ruins, for fear of evil spirits. Payn and 15 'knightly followers' determine to stay the night. A storm blows up and an evil, mace-wielding giant called Gogmagog, appears. Payn defends his men against the attacks of the giant with his shield and cross, then stabs Gogmagog with his sword. As the giant is dying he tells of the earlier bravery of King Bran who had built the castle to try to defeat the giant. Despite King Bran's attempts against Gogmagog the King had been forced to flee and since then the giant had terrorised all the land around for many years. The giant also tells of a great treasury of idols buried at Dinas Bran which includes swans, peacocks, horses and a huge golden ox but dies without revealing its location.

As far as legends go, that's not a bad one. Many a rainy afternoon in the school holidays was spent looking for treasure. For those struggling with the language, Castell Dinas Brân translates into English as Castle of the City of Crows - or more casually, Crow Castle. So I guess for those that know me well, two plus two might begin to look something like four now.

There's also the weirdest book shop in the world in Llangollen - it must hold over 10,000 books but none of them seem to date any later than about 1975. If you want a knitting pattern for how to make a jumper with a tiger on the front that makes you look foolish, that's the very place to go. They have dozens of them. Mind you, if you ever wore it outside, people would probably stone you.

Anyway, here's a picture of Dinas Brân so y'all can get jealous:

Holiday reading?

I haven't had a proper 'tools down' holiday for a long time. I convince myself that when you really love what you do, why would you need a holiday, but I don't think that's absolutely true. I used to stock up on books for holidays like there would be a holocaust. But, to get to the point, the last few times I've been on something I've called a holiday, I've committed 100% to audiobooks. They sit on my phone and you can 'read' them while you're walking through airports, drive... all kinds of things. That's not to say I don't buy books that I find along the way but audiobooks are vastly under-rated. If anybody is looking for a good place to start with them, try absolutely anything by Michael Robotham. Not only are they fantastic crime fiction but they're read astoundingly well by Sean Barrett. Mind you, get a bad storyteller and I don't care how good the book is...

Where has seduced you?

Keystone in Colorado. I didn't know what to expect the first time I went but the first morning that I woke up there, I went outside and smoked a cigarette on the porch of where I was staying. There's a picture of it on my biography page. Right at that moment, everything slammed into a perfect clarity for me and the world made sense for once. I felt like that every morning I sat out there too. I probably shouldn't go back in case I break the spell but in about eleven days time, I'll let you know.

Worst travel experience?

That's an easy one. Anything that is floating on the sea. I must have the worst sea legs in the world. I get sick before anchors are dragged up. Having said that, the more money you pay for being at sea, the better the experience seems to be. So to answer the question properly, being a passenger on the ferry between Dover and Calais is awful. I've done it a few times and it never fails to make me miserable.

Worst hotel?

Hmm. Can you call a Travel Lodge a hotel? You can hardly call most of them even habitable these days. However, the worst hotel I've ever been in was in New York - although I found something quite rock n roll about it, so I didn't consider it to be that bad at the time. Looking back, any hotel with a giant mural of Satan painted on the bathroom wall with the words "I am the slave of he who created me" daubed on the wall around him is not a good place to be. The bad was pushed in front of the door that night.

Best hotel?

Lots, but two of the nicest experiences I've ever had have been in the Marriott in both Portsmouth and Cardiff. They have knockout facilities in those places and seem to really care about what people say about them when they leave. In my world, that's called 'production values'. I like hotels a lot and am easily pleased for the most part. I lived in one for a whole month once in Gloucester Road in London until my money ran out and then I lived on Euston Station instead. True story - best told over a coffee somewhere.

Favourite drive?

Anywhere in North Wales is good but I drove from Inverness to Skye once and that was breathtaking. It was like being in The 39 Steps which appealed to me just as much as what was going on outside the window. You can stumble across some weird stuff on a drive like that but if I had to pin a single drive down, it would be the road that goes through Foyers on the shore of Loch Ness that leads to Boleskine House. Try it sometime - you will see.

Best meal abroad?

Without doubt, last year at Spinnekopke in Brussels. How can you describe a meal in which you would be happy if you never ate again knowing food didn't get any better than that?

Favourite city?

Copenhagen. It used to be Paris but now I've been to Copenhagen, that takes all the prizes. It ain't cheap but the minute I walked out of the hotel and hit the streets, I knew I could live there from that day forwards until I died. I still feel like that now. Beautiful people, fantastic culture, great food, great walks - the list of things I love about Copenhagen is endless.

Where next?

Well, like I said, Colorado - but come November, I have an appointment with Florence which I'm really looking forward to. I haven't been to Italy since I was a kid and was totally blown away by Pompeii. I don't know what to expect from it in the slightest. I try very hard not to expect anything from anywhere I go - expectations are a very lucrative way of being let down when you get there.

Bang Go The Bells

Halloween has come and gone and so has Guy Fawkes night. From the passing of these two events, I can clearly deduce that kids today are lazier than they have ever been. Halloween saw a single group of five girls lurking in the street only one of whom could be bothered to dress up. At least I think she had dressed up - she could have been a hardcore goth I suppose. I drove up to the house and they were at the door across the road where they got no answer. This does not surprise me. The people across the road appear to be in their mid fifties and they have a little boy who must be around 11 years old - a wild stab in the dark would suggest 'unplanned accident' and that's how they treat him too. He doesn't have any friends that you could put your finger on and last year, he wasn't allowed out trick or treating either. I eavesdropped that conversation by taking my time getting non existent stuff out of the boot. Very occasionally, before his old man gets home from work, he can be found chatting to school chums outside the house but that's about it. I feel sorry for him, that's no way to grow up.

These girls were shit out of luck all round. I think the scariest thing in our street is me, or maybe the cat a few houses down that looks like an escaped lynx. I expected them to come knocking after they saw us get out of the car but there was no knock, no treats and very disappointingly, no trick. I wonder what constitutes as being a trick these days? We never went trick or treating when I was a kid because it didn't exist. Seriously. Out in the greenery of Wales, the nearest house worth going to was miles away anyway. I imagine eggs being thrown on your car is the pinnacle of trickery before you can get arrested for something (and you can probably be arrested for that too these days). Where's all the imagination gone? Wouldn't it be great to dress up as some real scaries and go through a very loud and elaborate occult ritual outside a non-treating house? I don't think you can get arrested for that under the 'freedom of religion act' or something similar (there has to be one of those surely).

Anyway, every single year I go through the same thing about Halloween with the kids - the real meaning behind it (and therefore, why they should be really afraid of the dark) but I don't think it ever hits the ground. What grates me more than Halloween is Guy Fawkes night - now known throughout the length and breadth of the land as Fireworks Night or Bonfire Night. At least it used to be. I don't think many call it Bonfire Night anymore due to the lack of bonfires. When I was a kid, this was a big deal. There would be bonfires twenty feet tall made of old chairs from the school or church, if you were lucky, somebody would have buried a tyre in the middle of it to ensure maximum smoke too. These were huge family events in a random field. Health and safety didn't exist much back then either. Maybe it's because it was all pretty obvious that the bonfire was hot and a firework could take your eye out. I do remember that we were allowed close enough to the fire to throw in your own potato and get it out yourself though. This year, if you can even find a bonfire, you'll be at least thirty feet away guaranteed and stung like a bear by hot dog merchants and other pirates trying to sell you nonsense.

The saddest thing of all though is the total absence of Guido Fawkes. 'Penny For The Guy' doesn't exist and I haven't seen an effigy on top of a bonfire for at least twenty years. Fireworks night, much like everything else around here is all about the people that figured out how much money you could make from it. I read somewhere that during the Thatcher era of government, that she and Regan had agreed to re-name Guy Fawkes night in an attempt to eradicate it from the history books - and you know what - I think they succeeded. My kids have no idea who he is, what happened. I'm not a big patriot - I live where I live - but the only reference to Guido Fawkes left across the length and breadth of the land is the wall mural on Charing Cross station - and people take about as much notice of that as they do the other signs the London Underground put up.

What does the future hold? A Halloween sponsored by Haribo and a Guido Fawkes night in association with Swan Vesta? Probably. I would give up saying anything at all if I didn't think it was important.

What we need around here is an intelligent renegade character to put the train back on the rails.

COMMERCIAL BREAK:

In the absence of a decent part two of this post (mostly because really good material is being ploughed into book projects), I thought I'd post the interview that recently appeared in Sounds of the Suburbs magazine from ReCharged Radio:

1. If you could look like anyone else, who would it be?

It would be great to look how I think I look when I look in the mirror, but keeping with the spirit of the question, you can’t go wrong with Johnny Depp. A man can achieve a lot with that face.

2. Favourite flavour of Pot Noodle?

The ultimate garage snack! That Bombay Bad Boy can be OK in an emergency but there used to be a Chicken Curry flavour Pot Rice that I was quite partial to as well. Jesus – I haven’t had a Pot Noodle in maybe ten years or more. I like getting older. It’s quite dignified now I look closely at it (getting older – not Pot Noodle).

3. Stoned, drunk or sober?

100% sober. I’ve done my time with the other two thanks and they suck. I never liked stoned. Stoned = Bed. Drunk is slightly preferable but only when you’re alone. If you’re looking for how I get my kicks though, there’s a big curtain hidden in the corner of the universe – get behind that and we’re talking serious business...

4. You are a puppy, what breed are you and why?

Nice question. A Briard perhaps. I got caught in the rain a couple of days back and sure as hell smelled like one by the time I got home. I saw somebody I hadn’t seen for years last week and he commented on how grey my hair was getting and said pretty soon I would look like “A Gandalf that got left out in the rain.” I can live with that.

5. Shoes, trainers or boots?

I did nothing but wear one single pair of boots for something like 20 years but they died so in the last couple of years, I’ve taken to wearing shoes and they’ve turned out to be pretty cool – I’m pleased with the decision. Trainers? People that wear trainers outside of doing something that looks like exercise should also be forced to wear a big sandwich board. It wouldn’t say anything on it – it’s just a punishment for not thinking about life properly.

6. What would you have been called if you were born a girl?

Most people think I am a girl when they look at my name – word on the street from my Ma is that she was going to call me Sian. Imaginative huh. It was the sixties and she had never been out of Wales. I guess the choice was limited. Apparently, I nearly got the name Dylan – taken from both Thomas and Bob – which I could have more than lived with.

7. Everybody wants some … what?

Body. There really is somebody for everybody. There’s some seriously odd looking people out in the world with a special somebody on their arm. If you’re single right now, maybe you should lower your expectations.

8. Which monopoly playing piece are you and why?

The rope in the drawing room with Miss Scarlet. Wait – that’s the wrong game isn’t it.

9. Favourite word and why?

Yes. You can achieve so much by using it even if you don’t mean it.

10. Boiled sprouts, cabbage or spinach?

Is there a correct answer to this? Certainly not the first two but spinach is OK – when you cook with it, spinach pretty much disappears to nothing and gives you arms like Popeye. Sprouts and cabbage were created by Lords far darker than I – last I heard there was a bounty on their heads but better men than I have tried to find them…

11. Last time you had sunburn and where?

That means you have to go out in the day, right? Let me think. Probably when I was about 13 and it would have been across the back of the knees which is about the most inconvenient place ever.

12. You have hit random on your i-pod – what’s the first song that comes up?

For all my rock-ness, today that happens to be Play That Funky Music by Wild Cherry. For every 20 rock songs on there, there will be at least 1 funk tune lurking somewhere. Jury is still out on whether or not that’s the coolest answer ever or the saddest…

13. And what was the last track you deleted in disgust?

There are lots. My kids have ipods that are sometimes loaded from my iTunes factory. It was yesterday and is was that Whore of Babylon Nicki Minaj. No idea what the song actually was but I took it off their pods as well. Nobody should have to live through that. Life’s too short.

14. What would you like to have total control of?

Today? School dinners. My kids went back to school a couple of weeks back and all that good work that Jamie Oliver did was apparently for nothing. Either that or Doctor Who (the show, not the man). I can’t decide if it’s going in a great direction or not at the moment. By the time I find out, it will probably be too late.

15. What is at the top of your To Do List today?

Well until this interview came along, I’m only a couple of days from putting the next issue of Skin Deep to bed, so I had better concentrate on that, but I’ve also got a story to finish later. Maybe I should have made something interesting up for that answer… actually, I do need to find some tears from a howling dog, but it’s not top of my list.

16. Favourite insult?

“Nobody likes you. You’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny. Now smile you fucking douche.”

17. Perfect night in?

Saturday.

18. Perfect night out?

Tuesday?

19. Who would win a fight between deer, a goat and a boar?

It has to be the boar. The deer would run away. The goat would get hammered because it was too busy eating a shirt hanging from a washing line. Definitely the boar – a boar would win most fights with anything. Ever.

20. Describe yourself using three words...

Supermassive Black Hole.

•

To wrap up, how about some Stevie Salas? Yeah: