Author: Paul

I was driving through central London at the weekend with a rip-roaring hangover when I noticed people were staring at me because there was a mysterious ticking noise under my bonnet. I pulled over in Bermondsey and got covered in an unholy amount of oil before discovering that my fan belt had split and was causing the noise. This was the result of a leak in my power steering fluid.

Naturally, I panicked and called my dad. He decided to berate my hungover ass for not having breakdown cover and then took me through my viable options. It turned out that I was fucked.

I eventually managed to get the car pushed into a nearby garage (which was closed because it was the day of rest) and left it there, calling the garage and leaving a voicemail for them to pick up first thing Monday morning.

I then had to get the train home, still covered in oil, still hungover to goddamn sin.

 

This isn’t a blog about breaking down. It isn’t even a post about being hangover. God knows I’ve written enough of those over the years.

Instead this is a celebration of the people you immediately turn to when you don’t know what else to do.

I knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything practical. I wasn’t expecting him to drive up and save me. What he did do was invite me over for dinner and give me a cuddle that let me know that writing off any car passes. Hangovers pass. Love doesn’t.

Copenhagen wasn’t at the top of my list of cities to visit, but when flights from the airport ten minutes from my flat came up for £18.00 return, it was suddenly promoted.
This weekend, Jaz, Ross, Jess and I took on the city of pastries, Hans Christian Andersen and fancy dinnerware.

Jaz and I stayed on a houseboat, booked via Airbnb. We landed late at night with instructions on how to get in via a lockbox. The issue was that the pictures on Airbnb didn’t show which boat was ours. We tried breaking into two other boats before we found the right one (thanks to my keen detective skills). As expected, everything was very cool, Scandi and minimalistic. We went to bed, knowing we had a lot of exploring to do in the morning.

We were up at eight and out by nine. We walked across the city, picking up coffee and pastries on our way. Our first stop was the Round Tower, a dominating attachment to a local church that hosted the first observatory in Europe. The inside was built as a gentle slope rather than stairs, which begs the question, why do stairs still exist? They’re ableist bullshit.
The best investment was the Copenhagen Card, and the accompanying app. It cost us €99 each for three days and gave us access to the majority of exhibitions, museums and other attractions as well as free reign of the city’s public transport.
At the top of the tower was a burrowed hole through to the core where there was a twenty-five metre drop. There was a glass panel across so you could stand on it, staring down and worrying that you were tempting fate.
Further up was a tight staircase that led to a viewing platform over the beautiful low of green and terracotta rooftops.

On our way back down we found an exhibition on the original moon landing, which is definitely a bit of me. They had photos from the original landing as well as models and a to-scale Lego model of the Apollo 11. There was no mention of Kubrick’s involvement.

Our next stop was the National Gallery of Denmark (Statens Museum for Kunst) which had several floors of Danish and French artwork from the sixteenth through to the twentieth century. I saw a lot of painted norks and felt richer for the experience.

We walked through Nyhavn to meet Ross and Jess at the Bridge Street Kitchen. We had pints of Pilsner and took it in turns to get food which we then shared. I had a hot dog with pickles and mustard followed by a noodle dish with a side of vegetable dumplings. All travel should be seen as a vessel to eat.

On the way back through Nyhavn (known for the canal and the beautiful pastel-coloured buildings) we stopped for waffle sticks (more food should be served on sticks). I had chocolate sauce and nuts, which I promptly got all round my face like a child.

We visited the Guinness World Record Museum, which was in the same league as wax museums – slightly cheesy but interactive enough to be worth a visit. There, we compared the weight of the four of us against the world’s fattest man (still only half his total), tried to beat the world record for stacking cups, drum rolls and longest basketball spin on one finger, and played immense games of Pac-Man on a giant screen.

We stopped in a bookshop café for beers, cocktails and hot chocolate and then headed to The Bird & Churchkey where we played loud games of Irish Snap before getting soaked in a sudden downpour and taking solace in Cock’s & Cows, a gourmet burger joint which I insisted on calling Cow and Chicken (thanks childhood spent watching Cartoon Network). We had huge burgers, assortments of fries and raspberry gin cocktails before heading back to the houseboat to play card games and drink beers.

On day two, Jaz and I walked most of the way to the Design Museum before discovering that all museums in the city are closed on Mondays. We visited Freetown Christiana, an area akin to Amsterdam’s approach to drug-taking. It has an element of urban decay or stoner logic to it. Everyone looks strung out and there are more off-brand tracksuits on display than a sale at Sports Direct. It was good to visit and look around but I think the time in my life when I would have been really impressed by it is over.

We walked back to Nyhavn and picked up an hour-long canal boat tour via the Opera House, the Little Mermaid statue and a fly-by of the canal where our boat was parked up. The tour was a better way of exploring the city than blindly wandering. I would not recommend trekking out to the statue of the Little Mermaid, when you could see it on the boat. Like all mermaids, she will only ever let you down.

We met up with Jess and Ross again and visited the Mystic Exploratorie, in an alley behind the Guinness World Record museum, which it could be considered to be the weak sibling of. Saying that, we did enjoy the electric chair.

Ross and Jess went shopping for tea and anything to make them feel more hygge. We got French-style hot dogs from a street vendor. We visited Ripley’s Believe It or Not and the Hans Christian Andersen Fairytale House, which were both terrifying and stupid in a fun way. Any Ripleys, anywhere in the world, has the same dated elements. That doesn’t change it being a fun way to spend an hour out of the cold. I liked the illusions, the Vampire Killing Kit and the shark attack room.
The attached Fairy Tale House retold Andersen’s stories with a terrifying set of models and dioramas. It raises questions when they’re viewed through a twenty-first century lens.

We went to Tivoli Gardens, which I had been given mixed messages about. Some said it was a must when visiting Copenhagen, others said it was overpriced touristy crap. The truth is that it is somewhere in between. It is expensive but the experience was one of my favourite elements of our time in the city. Tivoli Gardens is a huge theme park in the centre of the city witha large range of rides, attractions and games as well as plenty of stops for food and drink. The price of entry to the park was included with our Copenhagen Card but you also need to pay for a pass if you want to go on the rides. This was 250DKK – 295DKK (£30+).
Tivoli boasts a rolling expanse of beautiful gardens and a lake. It was all themed towards Halloween.

Jaz is not a fan of rollercoasters so took advantage of the snacks available while we rode as many rides as we could. We started on the wooden rollercoaster, cleverly named The Rollercoaster, and then hit up TikTak, a mad waltzer that span upside down if you could jar your bodies back and forth in the right way. We took turns to sit together. Jess and Ross sat together on the coaster and Ross and I joined forces on the waltzer.

We got pizza and hot dogs and went on Aquila, a ride where we sat in twos on giant birds that went round in circles while flipping upside down. We then found our way over to Vertigo, the biggest boy in the park. I was split about riding it at all but the peer pressure got the best of me and we joined the back of the queue. Looking at the tiny children coming off of the ride I knew I couldn’t back out but there was nothing about watching this giant torture device spin at such a rate that it sounded like their screams were being cross-faded above my head.
We were strapped in and set on our way. The fixed ride looped over and over again and again, flipping our four-way car around on its axis at the same time until it clunked into place and settled into a straight course as it got faster and faster. I felt my whole body drawn back into my seat. I couldn’t work out which way was up as it got faster still. It was dark out and flashing lights were turned on their heads again and again. I was sucked backwards and watched the world roll under my seat and over my head so quickly that I couldn’t work out if I was testing out for NASA or having a fun day out with my friends.
I came off feeling dizzy but wired. We stopped in a café nearby to warm up. I had the most incredible drink of the weekend – La Mumba. La Mumba was a hot chocolate mixed with rum. Jess had the same. Jaz and Ross had coffee with Baileys.
Ross and I ordered large drinks for the table and were amazed at our 6oz cups. It came to about 200DKK (£24) for four drinks. We decided not to convert it back to GBP at the time in case the fear set in.

Any ride we went on after Vertigo was twinged with the mundane. Vertigo was the upper limit. We went on the dragon rollercoaster, The Demon, and the swings, which shot up above the park. It is worth visiting late in the afternoon and holding out into the evening. A lot of the annoying children and their families head home when it gets dark which lessens much of the queueing time. It’s also worth visiting during term times, a thought we had completely skipped over.

Tivoli Gardens was a lot of fun and anyone who says otherwise needs to have a less serious look at themselves. We stopped in at the food court on our way out so we could all eat whatever the hell we liked. Writing this up, I realise that all I did was eat and drink for three days. Ross had a disappointing toasted sandwich. Jess got nuggets. Jaz had a chicken sandwich. I had an amazing burrito and a beer.

Ross and I then got electric scooters back to the house boat ahead of the girls, who insisted on walking. This is another recommendation. You can download Lime or a similar app to unlock access to the electric scooters which are strategically scattered around the city. They even offer up a warning if it’s late at night and you’re probably drunk.
Back at the boat we played more card games and had more beer. Jaz snoozed until we were finished and ready for bed ourselves. Day two was done.

We packed up our stuff and left our cute little houseboat. We walked to the Design Museum and were bemused at what seemed like a disorganised Ikea. While Danish design is incredible, there was little to inspire at the museum. The best part was the classroom of benches, colouring pencils and paper where you could sit and draw. It felt calming to pretend I wasn’t a grown up and to do something abstract.

We then went next door to the Medical Museion, which was much closer to our winter goth aesthetic. The museum is in the building that previously hosted the surgeons of Copenhagen. It’s a labyrinthine expanse across three floors with plenty of old equipment and samples to gawk at. We wandered through with morbid fascination.
There was a special exhibition on the link between gut health and mental health that was interesting but it was the preserved parts in jars that we stared at for the longest period of time.

We hired electric scooters and headed back to the Rosenborg Castle to meet Jess and Ross. The four of us went to the Big Apple café for fresh juices. Mine had chilli in and was supposed to detoxify me following the amount of booze I’d imbibed. I can only assume it worked.

We visited the Meteorology exhibition at the Natural History Museum, beside the Botanical Gardens. I’ve always been fascinated by space and the idea of anything otherworldly is right up my street but it remained a short trip. You know how the old saying goes, once you’ve touched one meteorite…
We walked back to the centre of the city and found a table at the Bastard Café where we played a two-hour game of Catan over beers. We got an early dinner at the fantastically named Riz Raz and then got the Metro to the airport, knowing we had to go home and that we had work the following morning.

I cannot recommend Copenhagen enough as a city to visit. The people are very cool, very tall, well-composed, friendly and beautiful. The city has a lot of history and a lot to offer for different groups of people. You can make the experience entirely your own and don’t need to do any of the things I did to have a good time.
It can be expensive but the Copenhagen Card is a great way of cutting down on expenditure when you’re there. Saying that, I think I averaged £100 a day on food and drink.

If you have any further questions on the city then feel free to add a comment or use my Contact Page.

My heart is very full.

This weekend I got to work alongside some of the greatest and most depraved minds in Southend’s second 24-hour improvathon. For those of you who have not seen an improvathon, it’s a long-form improvised theatre production featuring the same cast and characters. Some did shifts, others did the full twenty-four. I was already booked up for the Saturday so I did a simple twelve hours, from 7pm on Friday (when the show opened) until 7am the following morning.

The improvathon was set aboard the spacecraft, the S.S. Galileo, in the distant future. We were invited to bring a character idea and a costume, but that was as far as the planning went. The entire thing was directed by the incredible Ali James, alongide Jim working the lights and sound, and the introduction of Jordan, our resident pianist.

Ali would request specific characters to the stage, give a one liner for what would happen in the scene and away we went. While I struggle with terrible stage fright and anxiety if I am getting up to perform anything organised, I find getting up with no idea of what is about to happen a much more freeing experience. You build trust with your scene partners and let your mind go to the weirdest places.

I played John Doe, a spaceman rescued from deep space after being cryogenically frozen in an escape pod. When he comes to, he has no recollection of who he is or where he has come from. I thought it was a great setup for a character, fit in with the tropes of science fiction, and would limit me overthinking the scenes ahead of me too much.
The best thing about being in the improvathon is watching your very talented friends as they build an incredible world around you. I was constantly overwhelmed by how their brains grabbed at ideas and witty dialogue, puns galore, a little pause and a look to the audience that did so much.
I got to work with Wendy in my first couple of scenes, and shared a duet which she thankfully led. I had never improvised in song before and it’s a different battle entirely. I managed a bit of call and response. It always amazes me how I am continually learning when it comes to improv. It’s like finding that you aren’t as fit as you thought you were when you try a different exercise. Anything outside of my wheelhouse immediately makes me wonder if I have learnt anything at all.
John Doe then met Jen’s character, Connie Lingua, the ships’ communications expert who recognised him. They discovered they were long lost twins, a move cemented by Jen and I pulling up our sleeves to reveal half sleeves of tattoos – our “matching birthmarks”.
Connie taught John – now named Fellash (short for Fellatio) about their home planet, B127-Speed and he recovered a repressed memory about the death of their father, The Tattooed King, at the hands of time traveller Lordy Lordy (played by the wonderful John Oakes and Lee Tearrell). They fought to the death and The Tattooed King was defeated.
Connie and Fellash then battled Lordy Lordy for revenge and relived their entire lives in separation before their father appeared through a transporter and told Fellash it was time for him to return to B127-Speed and lead his people.
I am not ashamed to admit that I felt a tear at the corner of my eye as I was transported back to my home planet (via some strung up fairy lights).

I sometimes forget that taking part in improv is not a normal thing that everyone I know does. It’s fair to say that I have a lot of friends who do improv, but it’s more the case that improv introduced me to these people and I am now fortunate enough to call them friends. In a world that is so split and destructive, how wonderful it is to work with a group of people who just want to play and make each other laugh.
My arc and my shift were just one star in the constellation, the swirling galaxy that was this year’s improvathon. Getting to watch Dork be killed off and scalped, Keith Moon learn to play AI golf, seeing Gareth Gates and Jackov trying to disguise a poo, seeing Albert killed by a dentist, Alexa answering all of the questions, Brother Barry and Elder Edward perform a baptism, Emperor Zog exposing himself and Flash winning the ship against Sahara in an epic game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, I can’t help but beam that I got to be part of something so wonderful.

I loved it all, to infinity and beyond.

Photos by Gaz de Vere

I feel distant from my brothers. That distance is approximately six miles and sixteen and a half miles respectively, assuming they are at home.

I would like to think that I’m a good older brother. The only place I fall down is that I probably look younger than either of them.
I did my fair share of psychological torture when we were younger but that has phased out over time to leave beautiful friendships in my life which I will always be grateful for. I mention my brothers because in the last two weeks I have had moments with each of them where I recognised what it means to have brothers and how thankful I am to have them in my life and for them to recognise the same in their small way. Neither Robb or Edd are big gesture people. I have always been the emotional one. I once fled the table in tears when they told me Baby Spice had a boyfriend. When they were getting football kit and micro scooters for birthdays, I had a pottery wheel and the works of Lewis and Tolkien.

Last weekend I helped Robb out of a bind because he had to work unexpectedly. He does such an incredible job of juggling fatherhood and work, providing for his family to the absolute best of his ability and then falling asleep in the bath. I look at the way he keeps those plates spinning and am in awe of him. He’s doing the parent thing and I don’t know when he became such an adult.
I helped ferry his eldest, Harry, to football practice and then made cookies with Harry and Kadie, my niece.
When Robb got home I gave him some life advice and then helped him and his wife load the kids into the car. He came around to where I had just finished fighting Kadie into her seat and said “you know what, you’re a good brother”. We hugged.
That’s all I need. I would go to the ends of the earth for that boy and all he will ever have to do is acknowledge it.

Last weekend, I helped Edd and his fiancé, Angelina, move house. I got there as early as I could, with a hangover, to find the pair of them fretting because their possessions had expanded in the five years they had been in their flat. The operation of moving it all themselves was a bit overwhelming. With the help of Angelina’s family, we got it all packed up. Of course, I cut my hand open when we were shifting stuff out to the van and bled everywhere, but that’s the nature of me trying to do any manual labour. I bought a pack of black sacks and threw everything I could into bags so we could get over to their new house.

At the other side, I helped unload the van and tried to make sense of what they had brought with them.
It was a busy day and I hoped that in some way, having me there made it easier for the pair of them.
When I announced that I had to bounce, Edd hugged me and thanked me for all of my help. Again, that was all it took. I knew I had completed my part in being a good older brother. To see him in his new place, doing a fairly good impression of an adult, was a surreal experience.

I recognise that I am fortunate to be as close to my brothers as I am. That’s not the case for a lot of families. It’s like having best friends who are contractually obliged to love you. We may be older and we may be losing our hair but as far as I’m concerned, we could pull a dance routine to Grease Lightnin’ out the bag tomorrow if we needed to.

Sometimes it isn’t the content of the film itself, but instead the circumstances you watch it in. It is well recorded that I am prone to wild bouts of tears if I watch any film while on an aeroplane (I’m looking at you Amy, Inside Out, Instant Family, Lion, Infinity War, Adaptation).

I had seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind any number of times before I watched it on a roof in Stratford but that will always be my favourite viewing. I had seen Blade Runner a lot because a girl I was dating had to study it when we were at university but it never had a patch on the Secret Cinema screening last year.

I had never fully appreciated the power, nuance and wonder of Nora Ephron’s work until I saw When Harry Met Sally at the Prince Charles cinema in Leicester Square recently.

For those of you who are not familiar with what is objectively the greatest romantic comedy of all time, When Harry Met Sally (or WHMS as I sometimes call it for fun) centres around one human male (Harry) and one human female (Sally) and their relationship. It begins with a journey from the University of Chicago to New York where the pair are thrown together for the drive by a mutual friend. Harry has a dark side (which I can relate to) and absolutely nothing bothers Sally (which I envy). On the ride they fall out over Harry’s insistence that Sally has never had great sex and whether they should get a motel together.

 

I was first introduced to WHMS by my grandfather. He told me that men and women could never really be friends because the sex always got in the way. He told me this when I was fourteen. I rolled my eyes and told him that he was embarrassing and then I spent a decade proving his point.

 

What makes WHMS so great is the honesty of the relationship onscreen. It isn’t plain-sailing and at no point does it feel like the relationship is being played out by numbers or in a three-act structure. You completely buy into their friendship and then their relationship. I can never work out which of the pair of them I fancy (see also: Before Sunrise, Eternal Sunshine, True Romance, La La Land, Garden State, Star Wars).

 

I cannot recommend seeing WHMS enough. Go and see it in the cinema if you get the chance, and if you can’t get around to that, then do what I do; watch it once a month on Netflix and proudly partake of some pecan pie.