Category: Other

My old man gave me a camera. He gave me the camera in the same way he gave me his stash of whiskey, and Physical Graffiti and L.A. Woman on vinyl. I took them, wondering if he would ever notice.

I’ve carried this camera around for years. It has been in at least four different places that I’ve lived. That might say more about my lifestyle. Until last month, I’d never sought out film for it.

The Kodak Brownie 127 was billed as an affordable Bakelite camera that anyone could use. The hardest part is threading the film onto the spool. I wanted to take photos of my family with it. The results were very mixed.

If I ever financially recover from this – buying the wrong film at first, buying the right film, paying to develop what it turned out were seven photos – then I’ll invest in a flash or only shoot outdoors. Those are the options.

Either way, it was fun to have a play with and the grain on some of these is beautiful.

I can feel something new stirring away inside me. It’s not the cabbage soup I’ve eaten all week but instead the seeds of the next idea. I love this process. The unending potential of what I can work on next, writing the title, my name and the opening lines on a new Word document with the mad concept that this too could one day be a book.

I’m torn between writing about the death of a friend, the British fascists of the 1930s or a tell-all about working in a pub. Different ideas that are bumping into one another in the dark of my subconscious.

This time is the spark where ideas begin and I love feeling it gestate and grow. I’ll start writing soon but the peace between having sent something off and starting something new is a relaxant. I’m able to connect more with the day to day and not be quite as absorbed in my own shit. Maybe it’s the changing of the seasons or something like that.

In a rare moment of spirituality, I was at a yoga class on Wednesday and the yogi told us this was the period where we come out of our cocoons and begin to see the changes in the world. While, on the grander scale, things don’t look so great, is there talks of a WWIII again? In my oily bubble, everything is bright.

When E and I first met, or re-met, I excitedly told her about The Book and where my journey with it had got me to. At that point, it was the not-too-distant idea of a thing. It was on the way. It was happening. The sands were slowly turning. I promised her that when things developed, we would visit Prague, where the novel starts out. My precious little hero, Georg Gottlieb, was born and raised in Prague before falling into the hands of the Hlinka Guardsmen and the start of his adventure.
Writing in the height of the pandemic, I wasn’t able to visit Prague. Instead, I found myself dragging my mousepad around long stretches of the Old Town to the Charles Bridge. I mapped distances using Google to ensure my understanding made sense. I might have been writing 80 years after the book was set but some things never change – cobbles included.

This month, we were able to see through that promise. We flew to Prague and spent a beautiful four days exploring the start point for something I have written and am immensely proud of.

We got the earliest flight out we could, meaning an acceptable drinking time of 5am. There’s something about a pint of Guinness when you’ve still got sleep in your eyes that really hits home. I read I’ll Be Gone In The Dark on the plane. E had a nap.

We landed, were embarrassingly shifted into the non-EU line for security and before we knew it, were buying our first pack of cheap cigarettes. We got a taxi to the Old Town and started our adventures. The first stop was for food.

I thoroughly recommend Lokal. They have a few spots in Prague but all offer traditional Czech food along with large Pilsners. We had a trio of sausage to start (sausage should always be a starter) followed by fried cheese and beef tartare. E famously has eyes bigger than her belly so I did what I could to finish up. Everything on the plate was so good and we were well looked after.

Heading up into the New Town, we found a novel bar, Beer Point, selling craft beers with the joyous turn of pouring them yourselves. They had 14 taps and the process worked by loading a pre-paid card and working your way around. It was an easy way to wile away a couple of hours while we planned the rest of our trip. E was in charge of food choices. I chose points of historical interest. We’re fun at parties.

Having gorged ourselves in Lokal, we grabbed some snacks to take back to our hotel on the other side of the river. There, we setup a little platform to watch Don’t Worry Darling on Netflix. Early to bed, early to rise.

After our hotel breakfast, we trekked back to the Old Town, picked up a coffee and visited the Speculum Alchemiae – Alchemy Museum. Here, we were able to explore the secret basements where the alchemist traded from. If I didn’t already have the love, power and money I needed then I could have been tempted by an elixir.

Keeping it classy, we followed this with a visit to the Sex Machines Museum. Three titillating floors of historic, modern and perverse objects that some like up ’em. It was particularly eye-opening.

We had my favourite meal of the trip in Kantyna, a cantina with its own butchers shop. We had pork loin with potato pancakes, brisket with vegetables and a couple of steins. It was only when I then ordered a pastrami sandwich and a cheeseburger that I questioned my methods. Portions were incredible and the meat was unreal.

We went to a bar for a bottle of wine and then discovered that my old friend Craig was not only living in Prague but managing a bar. We dropped in on him for a pint and I have a blank of around five hours. We were perched on the end of the bar, and were given so many shots by the staff. Then we made some Irish friends and it descended from there.
When I came to, we were stood in the cold embrace of the Charles Bridge gone midnight. We somehow unlocked an electric scooter and I steered us back to the hotel. Say what you want about Drunk Paul, he’s got the skills of a homing pigeon.

I woke up the following morning screaming. Worst hangover in quite some time. The kind that builds and debilitates over the course of the day. When on a city break, there’s no time to feel sorry for yourself. We got breakfast and went on an extensive tour of the Jewish Quarter.

This was key to the trip for me. I’m immensely proud of my heritage and my Jewish half (bottom half for anyone wondering). We were able to explore the Pinkas Synagogue, Old Jewish Cemetery and more as part of the self-guided tour and paid out for the audio guide which was fascinating.
Note: This audioguide is an app, downloaded to your phone. Take your own headphones.

After the solemnity and beauty of the Jewish Quarter, we found ourselves in need of carbs and where better than the 50s American diner across the street, James Dean.
I had an ice cream White Russian that made me question why all White Russians aren’t ice cream based. We ordered some chips and mac n cheese. A clear departure from our efforts to get into the local delicacies. It was needed.

We then had an incredible slice of cheesecake and a crepe in Au Gourmand, one of the most beautiful cafes in Prague. Our intentions were to have a lovely meal out but we retreated to our bed, pretending we would have a nap that would invigorate us for the evening. It did not.
That nap lasted for about nine hours, and quite possibly saved my life.

We treated ourselves to breakfast at Cafe Savoy, a spot so swanky that I assumed I would be refused service (like that time at Harry’s Bar in Venice) but it was quite the opposite. The team there couldn’t do enough for us. I had a delicious Eggs Royale. The make pastries from scratch and there’s a viewing window where you can see down into the kitchens. It’s incredible.

We then went to explore the city again – our final full day. Because I’m a romantic, I wanted to take E to the church where Operation Anthropoid came to a head, with the deaths of several Czech rebels fighting against what the Nazis had done to occupied Prague. When I didn’t immediately burst into flame upon entering the church, we headed down to the crypt where there are memorials to those fallen soldiers. Despite our jovial approach, this was a moment for solemnity. Those soldiers paid the ultimate price fighting for what they truly had to.

We happened across the Dancing Building, which we Girl Maths’d our way into for free. They charge you to go out on the viewing platform but it’s free if you buy a drink. So, we bought a drink (which we would have done anyway) and got the views for free. It was fine. Full of Instagram wannabes taking photos in corners as if they have some secret access. It’s not even that high.

One of our favourite spots, in Prague 5, was Manifesto Market. We spent the afternoon there, considering different beers and cocktails and willing ourselves to hunger because everything there looked so good. As it was mid-week, it was nice and quiet but I can imagine it getting pretty raucous at the right hours.

On our way back to the hotel, we went to Nightmare Bar, which is a must for horror fans. Everything is decked out in theming and costumes from your favourite scary movies. The cocktails are all named after famous murder weapons from films, there are characters on the walls. It’s a full on experience and we had a lot of fun.

All that day drinking took its toll so we ordered room service and watched a film. Heading out with both a bang and a whimper.

I loved my time in Prague. It was a lovely button on the last year and a chance to celebrate the hero of my book.

As someone who hasn’t always wanted to be here, every birthday is a milestone of a different kind.

I am so grateful to my friends and family, the people who stuck around when I was at my lowest and not a lot of fun to be around. Everyone who has spoken to me openly and candidly about what we are all going through as we hurtle through space on a ball of dirt, as a bunch of elements drawn together by magic. As Carl Sagan said, we are “made of star stuff”.

I am grateful to therapy, of all kinds, whether it’s me sobbing on a couch to a virtual stranger for £50 an hour or running along Southend seafront, Biffy Clyro blasting in my ears.

I am grateful to have writing and improv and a good sleep routine. I am grateful that I love with my whole heart and that love found me when I least expected it.

I am grateful that dogs exist. That baked cheesecake exists. I love coffee and shopping for books and the hunt for the perfect tote bag that doesn’t slip off your shoulder. I am thankful for every season that I see change. Each of my nieces and nephews and godchildren for making me “Uncle Paul”.

I’m grateful that being alive meant I have been able to experience more of this world than I thought I would ever see. That I have hiked across deserts and swum under waterfalls, danced in a canyon and fished for my supper. Met god in an airport, ridden a camel, eaten Guinea pig and ate shit on jelly mountain.

I’m grateful that through all of this stuff, through being Paul Schiernecker absolutely relentless, you’ve been there for the ride. I am grateful for you.

Happy birthday, me.

One of my NYR was to travel more. Started out well by getting a January trip in. Six of us made our way to Slovenia, staying in the mountains, going dickie down and drinking so much local sparkling wine that I wonder how dry this January could ever have been.

The few days we spent in Slovenia will always come back to me in shots. Reminders of moments:

That first drive up the mountain when the road was a block of ice and the air was full of the smell of burning clutch.

Finding a blackboard outside a shop advertising bear salami, assuming it was some kind of gimmick and subsequently discovering a taste for bear meat. Let’s keep in mind that I was vegan a year ago.

Our first night when the hot tub wasn’t hot enough (a running theme on our trips) and the sauna was so overwhelming that we threw ourselves on the mercy of the piled up snow afterwards.

Our ill-informed hike down the mountain where two of us did not have appropriate shoes (Joey blamed the airport but actually left one boot at home and E didn’t know her boots had holes in them until we were in eight inches of snow).

Climbing into a lookout tower only to realise we would have to somehow get down again.

Our much quicker ascent, where half the group were left in a pizzeria, the only open joint with an alcohol licence for miles.

Driving on the right for the first time, in a Slovenian car, up a frozen mountain as the engine screamed and three drunk people bellowed “keep it up!” (about the movement of the car). I made that hill and we landed in a snow bank outside our lodgings.

Dancing on Keren’s birthday. Trying and failing, once more, to learn the moves to Think About Things and Jiggle Jiggle.

The best steak restaurant in Slovenia and the decision to share an additional plate with Joey.

Walking hand in hand with E, mostly because love, partly to stay upright.

In the mix of all of these adventures was the recognition of how beautiful the world can be, how screaming in the mountains is deeply healing and that surrounding yourself by your people, good people, drunk people, is wonderful.

In the last couple of days, I’ve had the overwhelming desire to start writing something new. Bizarrely, it’s not set in Europe between 1939 and 1945, but instead in a near future. It’s a bit Twilight Zone and a bit The Shining.
The idea isn’t all the way realised but there is the distinct sense, which I’ve learnt to lean into, that I want to write something new.

Maybe it’s the clear head and the ache in my calves from my new year, new me attempt but something new is on the horizon. If only I could face the task in hand instead of imagining the future focus.

I’m going to spend this evening drafting out a plan and trying to establish the world and we will see where I get to from there.

Well, here we are. One week into the best year of my life.
Well, I’m pretty sure it has to be. I got everything lined up and in position in 2023. This is the year that works out the best for me.

I’m sober. That’s new for me. I’ve spent a lot of the year drunk. I don’t offer that up as being a good or bad thing. It’s just a fact. I’ve been drinking a lot.
I like drinking.
I like who I am when I’m drinking.
I like the romance and the tragedy around it all.
That’s why it is nice to stop. I don’t know how long we will carry on for, but for now, I feel good for being so sober.

I’m running. I hadn’t run anywhere in three months. I was bulking, you see. That means I get to eat McDonalds at least three days a week and don’t do any cardio.
I like running.
I like who I am when I’m running.
I like the romance and the tragedy around it all.
We’ve been doing Couch To 5K together. Between those, I’ve been seeing how quickly I can do 5km anyway, like some kind of sick test against my knees and the extra kilos I’m carrying right now.
I don’t know how long we will carry on for, but for now, I feel good being a runner.

I’ve stopped using social media. I filled dead air and my life by dragging down and refreshing those feeds. It’s addictive and much of the time it is toxic. I don’t need it and for the most part, I don’t care for the people I see on there.
I hate social media.
I hate who I am when I’m on social media.
I hate the tragedy of it all. I’ll go back. We both know I will. But for now….. I’m enjoying who I am when I’m away.
I’m still allowed to exist in a ghost mode on Pinterest and Reddit, but nothing where I’m evaluated by anyone I haven’t had the foresight to block.

Right now, I’m doing all the cliche January things and I’m really enjoying it.

I’ve not smoked in a week either. Not a vape, not a cigarette, not a crack pipe.

Who cares how much of it sticks. If it feels good, do it (taken from the Big Beat Manifesto).

I couldn’t let 2023 end without a good look back at all the things that have happened. It has been an absolute wild ride and I feel much better about things than I did a year ago.

In January, I moved into a new space with some friends. An opportunity to have a room to call my own after living in the squat and a good chance to recover. At that time, I was still seeing a therapist and unpacking a fairly traumatic period. I was sober for the month to help clean my act up, even if looking at it now, it’s been dirtier and more drunken than ever before. I got another tattoo. As is the fashion. Working my way down my forearm for the first time. I was always worried about being able to hide them in formal situations but, as the saying goes, fuck it.
Improv started up again and I got to hang with my people. Mine. Those who stuck by me are a godsend and I don’t know where I would be without them.

In February, I went to Scotland for Super Bowl weekend, and caught up with Poppy when I had some time in Edinburgh. Having so much time to work on myself meant hitting the gym hard, and turning 36 in the best shape of my life.
E and I took our first trip together, to Paris to celebrate my birthday. We had the most incredible time together, indulging in the Parisian delicacies of drunkenness, love and art. By the time we came back, we were both sure we were going to start dressing solely like Parisians. It is yet to stick.
We finally got our game of darts in, as well as other cute date nights.

March saw us in London for a couple of days, including the Bike Shed with mum and Lawl and Maltby Street in the mix. We went to see the Bowie Experience as a birthday present and I was drunk enough to cry at Heroes.
E and I got matching tattoos as well as a pair of GWYG designs with Dean. The introduction of Skuffin. We continued to eat great food and dine out with friends. We also got to see one of our favourite bands (Death Cab) at the Roundhouse, and spend some time with Other Emily and Irish Dan.
At the end of March I was asked to perform at Hornchurch Theatre with Ross and Lee, and we had a riot. Then I got to visit the Secret Nuclear Bunker to teach improv. Mad day.

This April was the first 48 Hour Southend Improvathon, an event that broke me in so many ways. I played Brillo Paddins, a simple hobbit with a lust for incest. At the 24 hour mark, my character switched to the dark side and I became Poblin, a creature who continued to haunt me every Wednesday in 2023. The event was fantastic and I’m looking forward to the next one in February. It took a good few days after to feel normal.
E took me to Osbournes’ for the first time and initiated another of our favour date spots. I’m such a whelk boy now.
Scott took me and Scott’s Boys to see Garth Marenghi where I got to meet the elusive dreamweaver after and have my copy of Terrortome signed.
E and I went to London for the Infinity Rooms and dinner at Marco Pierre White’s restaurant.
Having claimed I was a stand up comedian, I threw myself into gigs at Attic and Ironworks.

May found us attending some literary events and shmoozing, waiting for the news I had been waiting for about my own book.
The Gaming Gamers went to Gunslingers and E and I went climbing together. We applied for Race Across The World and spent the next six months making toasts to our obvious television debut appearance (that never came to fruition).
I went to Cardiff for work, mostly to see Tom, and then got to go again before the month was out.
We celebrated Eurovision with some very tasteful costumes.
Took dad out for a birthday dinner and, if he asks, I reserved the whole restaurant for us. Better still, we went to Pasta Nostra a few days later.
Took E to London for Korean Hot Pot and A Little Life, cried at both.
Went paddleboarding together for the first time.
Got some new headshots, which are now default on all social media platforms.

In June, we went away for a couple of days and stayed in a converted silo with an adjoining woodfire hot tub. Lots of local pubs and country walks.
Attended Freya’s book launch for her second novel, the excellent Birdcage Library. A little insight in what is to come.
Benjy took me to see Nick Offerman, which was truly excellent.

With July came the good weather, a visit to Darren and Laura and a park run in Battersea.
Sarah and I went to see Blur, ticking off one of the remaining bands that I’ve always wanted to see and never got the chance to. Thinking about it, that’s the Britpop trifecta completed – Oasis, Pulp and Blur all seen.
Went to 180 for the Asteroid City exhibition with Jen and Ricky.
Silent disco at Faye’s.
Mike and Char’s wedding, staying in a castle and forming a lifelong bond with Adam. E and Cel’s speech made the day.

August.
Performed stand up at Twenty One, my favourite gig of the year. Taught the audience the chorus to On My Doorstep and all joined in.
Caught up with old work friends in Canary Wharf (the dirge of it all)
Date night to Featherblade.
Chris’s Star Wars party at Caddies.
Oh, I took up smoking again. A surprise to everyone. It turns out that selling a house with absolutely zero help is quite stressful.
E took me to see The Strokes and Yeah, Yeah Yeahs in London. We got so drunk and had the best time dancing around.
Went camping with Jess and Alex. It rained throughout, as is tradition.

Had a mad September.
Weekend in Coventry for Joel’s stag.
Flew to Northern Ireland for the week, travelled the Coastal Causeway and had the best time at their wedding.
Flew back, got changed and flew to Croatia.
Had the best week by the Adriatic with my love. We ate really well, racked up a bar bill I’d like to see you rival and swam in the sea every day.
Wrapped off the month by getting cosy and into soup season.
Two more tattoos and Taskmaster night at ours.
Oh, and I got an offer for the Italian rights to my novel. I cried.

Lots of fun in October.
Took Eggers out for a birthday dinner.
Went to see the excellent Mike Birbiglia.
Early Thanksgiving with Darren and Laura.
Off Menu at the Royal Albert Hall.
Blink 182 at the O2 with Edd and Nin.
Taylor Swift at Southend Odeon with 18 cans.
Another work trip ending in Chippy Alley.
Suspects in Ashford.

As documented, November saw me lose my mind with National Novel Writing Month. Some 63k words done in a month. Worth it.
Leaving Christmukkah dinner with Benjy and family.
The last improv shows of the year.
Tom came to visit and we took him for dinner and games.
Signed my book deal.
Seven Dials for a very special date.
E’s birthday. Went to London and stayed at Sea Containers, had drinks in their rooftop bar and the most incredible experience dining at Sollip.
Dinner and karaoke with her friends, followed by Switch.
Grayson Perry at Theatre Royal.

End of the year. December.
Darts night.
Dinner at Alchemy with Joey and Keren.
Phoebe’s birthday.
Art show at Twenty One.
Moving days.
Finally having a place to call our own.
Another publishing deal came in. I cried, again.
Christmas day in the flat.
Seeing all of our people. Being able to host them.
Having some much needed time.

This year has meant so much to me.
Here’s to many more.

Well, there it is.

I’ve finished.

Is it perfect? No.

Is it done? Yes.

Is that enough? For now.

This month has been an absolute cluster of too many things throwing themselves at me all at once. I released an album, wrote a book, performed in an improv show, somehow managed to make it through my job as well as worrying about a myriad of other things.
I would just like something to come to fruition so it doesn’t feel like I’m constantly throwing myself against a fire door.

I read this week that October, November and December are sometimes called “snow globe season” where it feels like everything in your life is just thrown about the place and you come out of it in January wondering what the hell happened.

That certainly feels accurate at this point. I am completely emotionally and physically drained. I cannot tell you how much the support I have had in the last month has been but I need a rest.

Am I going to take it though? No.

Instead, I’ll spend the next week preparing a script to send to the Writer’s Room because this is the only time of year when they are open to submissions.

After that, will I rest?

No. I’m going to be celebrating Hanukkah and moving house and making that into a home and then it’s Christmas and then it’s New Year. But then, I will rest.

For now, thank you to my mad little mind for allowing me to spend the last 30 days really going through it, abandoning my plan within the first five minutes of writing each day and just seeing where the wind takes us.

It feels good to be the king (of fractured sleep, lower back pain and problem drinking).

I was so busy writing last week that I didn’t post an update.
After three weeks of writing, I have hit 40,000 words. That includes a couple of days when I’ve not been able to write at all so I’ll take it.

At the moment, it’s looking like the story will naturally conclude at around 60k. Not sure if I’ll complete that within the 30 days but I will have at least hit the 50k target by 30th November.

This story has become something else. The fifteen(ish) chapters that I did plan out, by writing two or three words as guidance for each, has given way to something else. It turns out that the story got bigger, and didn’t want to follow the guidelines that were initially put in place. It’s all coming together though and has a sense of the other two books in this series as well as being the story of another of the Fire siblings in its own right.

I implore anyone who is still fighting the good fight when it comes to NaNoWriMo to be kind to themselves, take breaks, treat yourselves and know that this is a long road but that the end is in sight.

Write on!