Last week, we took my dad for a day out in London for his birthday.

It wasn’t an especially important number (next year however is a mucky treat) but he deserves to feel important. Without telling him where we were going, my brother and I picked him up, rushed him onto a train and took him out for the day. The last time we did anything like this was his memorable stag to Amsterdam. By memorable, I couldn’t tell you much.

This time around, I was lucid and relatively sober. After a quick snack at Mercato, we went to the Imperial War Museum. Dad loves war. If unchallenged, the History Channel was always on at home. Black and white documentaries, usually about WWII, that we would groan about until Cartoon Network was rightfully restored. Little did I realise that those docs were wheedling away at my subconscious and I now almost exclusively write about the past-os.

To be honest, the IWM was a treat for me too. I could see Robb struggling though, tipping his head to the side as he stared at some monumental piece of history in the way a puppy might to new instructions. Adorable.

We then went to YORI for dinner. As a father of three, I thought dad would love the opportunity to man a tiny barbecue but Robb saved the day, chucking everything on the tabletop grill. We ate well and then rushed to the theatre.

It was Robb’s idea to take dad to see Fawlty Towers. It’s one of a string of comedies we watched in secret (from mum) when we were kids, along with Men Behaving Badly and Bottom, that became the touchstone of our senses of humour. Dad would let us stay up, eating bags of crisps and copious bowls of sugary cereal while BBC2 did its thing. Then, we would run for it when we heard mum’s car on the drive.

The show was fantastic, even if it was a bastard amalgamation of three existing episodes. Also, the audience were a bit gammony but I had prepared for that. The cast were spot on and the pacing and gags hold after all this time.

Late train home and got dad to bed before one am. I love being able to spend that time with my old man. He’s the reason I am here as well as becoming the man I am today. He’s the best of all three of us. Kind, patient, the “hear me out” to many of my female friends. What a great man who deserved a little treat.

We were lucky enough to get tickets to see Arcade Fire play Brixton the other week.

For me, Arcade Fire are one of the greatest live bands of all time. I first saw them perform at Reading 2007 and the experience altered my brain chemistry. There were people speaking in tongues and writhing around to the sound of a hurdy-gurdy. It was anarchy.

I’ve seen Arcade Fire on every album tour since (bar We when we all agreed it was best to give them a bit of space).

This time around, it was the twentieth anniversary of Funeral, their debut. My favourite Funeral fact is that David Bowie bought copies of that album for everyone he knew for Christmas. That’s how highly he thought of it.
Bowie and Arcade Fire performed together at Fashion Rocks and he provided backing on Reflektor too, if you’re paying attention to my AF facts.

What made this tour so special is hearing the whole album from start to finish before a short interval and a return for some bloody hits.

We had the best time and getting to see E get into it made my night.

1. Sound and Vision
2. Vampire/Forest Fire
3. Funeral:
4. Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)
5. Neighborhood #2 (Laika)
6. Une année sans lumière
7. Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)
8. Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)
9. Crown of Love
10. Wake Up
11. Haïti
12. Rebellion (Lies)
13. In the Backseat
14. Enjoy the Silence
15. Cars and Telephones
16. Intervention
17. Age of Anxiety II (Rabbit Hole)
18. Headlights Look Like Diamonds
19. Reflektor
20. Afterlife
21. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
22. The Suburbs
23. The Suburbs (Continued)

It’s been three days. I have the full use of my legs now. It’s time to write about my experience.

On Sunday, I took part in the Southend Half Marathon. I want to start off by saying what a wonderful thing it is to have an event like this on my doorstep. It was really well organised and those involved are to be applauded.
Like everyone else, I was brokenhearted to hear that someone passed away while taking part in the event. To put yourself forward to help others, and then to lose your life, is an awful thing. I hope their family are getting the support they deserve in the face of a tragic loss. It’s awful to lose someone suddenly and so unexpectedly on what should have been a winning day for them.

I signed up with a week to go before the race. I had been training but it hadn’t been without challenges. I’ve had issues with my knees for a long time and a visit to the osteopath, stretching exercises, gel insoles, new running shoes and a massage gun were helping me on the way.

It was on the day I setup my JustGiving page that the pain started in my ankle. I hobbled around the flat for a couple of days, in two minds about dropping out or pulling the fundraising page down. People gave very generously. At the time of writing I have raised over £250 for Havens Hospices.
This is a charity close to my heart. I have friends who I know rely on their services and more have since contacted me to tell me of their connection to the charity. It’s a truly great cause.

By Sunday, my ankle was improved but not right. I wrapped it up and endeavored to carry on through the race as best I could. I would run for as long as I could, worried about doing further damage that wouldn’t benefit anyone in the long term.

On the day, my ankle held. I think the ankle support I bought, plus the support of the crowds, saw me through much of it. I am proud to say that I completed the Half in 1hr 48mins. It’s not a personal best but I didn’t think it would be given my injury and the crowded opening of the race. It wasn’t until I was halfway round that I started to feel the space open up a little and could give myself the pacing that I knew I was capable of.

As a personal challenge, this seemed like something I had to do. I’m really proud of the time I put into my training and the support that I had in doing so. I couldn’t have done it without E, who was there, not just through training and injuries, but on the day too. I got to see her and our Herb three times while running.

Here’s to the next challenge.

I’ve hit upon a new idea and have become obsessed with it.

I’ve been pretty candid around the details but as usual, I caught a bit of a story, and am doing what I can to learn as much as I possibly can about it. That means ordering a stack of history books, listening to podcasts and audiobooks on my morning runs and filling a notebook with my plans and intentions.

As with TCOA and DBC, this new story is set in the 30s/40s but with a heavy female focus. It’s also the first time I’ve turned my attention to England for the bulk of my story. Saying that, we see inside Pall Mall in DBC, and Eliza serves as a worthy female lead.

My plan is to start writing in June, potentially using the Camp NaNoWriMo page as a jumping off point and seeing how much I can get done in a short amount of time.

Before then, it all comes down to the planning. I am halfway through reading two books that I’d like to finish up before the end of the month so I have some idea on the arc, and there are two more in the post. I may well find myself continuing to research by the time I’ve started writing.

Either way, it’s an absolute pleasure to be heading back into a new project. I’m currently waiting on any updates for my latest manuscript (DBC) and on developments on TCOA, which by my estimates should be published early next year.

If anyone needs me, I’ll have my nose in a book.

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.