Tag Archives: Rob Godfrey

The Iberian Job

Writing a memoir is always an interesting and exhausting process. In effect you are re-living it all and talking about it, the good the bad and the ugly. It’s a bit like being on the psychiatrist’s couch. Writing my latest … Continue reading

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The Cassier Highway

Google Street View are now just about everywhere (which probably includes your gastrointestinal tract), which once again allows me to do a re-run of one of the Pacific Northwest wilderness roads I drove back in 1999 (last year, via Street … Continue reading

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Salvador’s Trout

Ok, this will probably be the last ‘crown of sonnets’ for a while, because my brain is totally fried. Over the last four weeks I’ve bashed out three of the damn things; that’s a total of 21 sonnets, or 294 … Continue reading

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Socialist Sonnets

Socialist Sonnets Thank you for Last Rites and darkness at noon. Munchkins are singing the death of a witch. The coffin is placed in a greenback balloon, drifting away across avarice and kitsch. A young girl from Essex who’s flaky … Continue reading

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Arrival & Departure

In a previous post I said that I don’t like to inflict my poetry on the reader of this blog. So, being contradictory, here’s another poem, and a rather long one at that. But first some background: I stopped writing … Continue reading

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A tale of two kittens: or, the crap that people blog about

One common feature of middle-of-nowhere France is stray cats. Each year we let out the house as a holiday gite. During last summer’s holiday season, with the wreck and ruin part of the house still under renovation, I was living … Continue reading

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Julia’s nipples and Umber’s fart – Herrick the poet

Here’s an extract (still an early draft) from a book I’m writing called The poetry of Robert Herrick – who was Julia? Seventy four Herrick poems mention a woman called Julia, and there’s lots of others that are probably about … Continue reading

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Luh Dontist – part 1

Back in early September of this year I got caught in one of those huge rain storms that you get in this part of south west France. The temperature also dropped considerably. This combination gave me a very bad cold; … Continue reading

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The Ballad of Andre the Mountie

In a previous post I talked about my cousin Andre, and how he became Dipsy the Teletubbie as part of the publicity for my campaign to abolish the tv licence in the UK (see here). Well, politics is a rough … Continue reading

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Dipsy Rides Again

I don’t remember much of the eight hour flight to Paris. I was in a drunken slumber. When I came to the plane was touching down at Charles de Gaulle airport. It was lunchtime and I took the RER to … Continue reading

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The Great Railway Bazaar

“He’s got a knife!” cried Andre. Alec had indeed pulled a knife on us, but he was way too drunk to use it. The train lurched across some points. The door to the concertina coupling between the carriages slid open. … Continue reading

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Mr Mouse’s 50th Birthday

When you wish upon a star Makes no difference who you are Tinny and distorted, the song blared from an array of speakers strung above the street. I covered my ears. A big blue bear stopped in front of me. … Continue reading

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Dance in the Old Fashioned Way

London. A freezing winter’s afternoon. A back street in Soho. Below the bell push a small card said: ‘Young French Model’. The door was opened by an old lady who looked like everyone’s favourite granny. She wore an overcoat and … Continue reading

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Filthy Lucre

The videos we were packing had names like ‘Red Hot Mama’, ‘Two Nuns and a Donkey’, ‘Lactating Lesbians’, ‘Anal Annie’. It was hot, fast sex passing through our hands at a hot, fast pace. In fact, things moved so quickly … Continue reading

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Hookers and Hustlers in Marrakesh

Hussein hissed in my ear: “I can get you anything, girls, drugs, alcohol, camels.” Camels?! I turned away from Hussein, trying to hide my rising laughter. We were in a shop in the Marrakesh medina, where Andre was persuaded to … Continue reading

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