Author: Jack Scott

Imagine the absurdity of two openly gay, married, middle aged, middle class men escaping the liberal sanctuary of anonymous London to relocate to a Muslim country. I chronicled our exploits with the mad, the bad, the sad and the glad in a blog for the whole world to ignore. Then came the book which became a critically acclaimed best seller. Its success opened out a whole new career for me, firstly as an author, and now as an indie publisher. Who'd have thought it? Certainly not me. In June 2012, we ended our Anatolian affair and paddled back to Britain on the evening tide, washing up in Norwich, a surprising city in eastern England, then to the wilds of Norfolk as the only gays in the village. I’m sometimes nostalgic for our encounters with the hopeless, the hapless and, yes, the happy go lucky. They gave me an unexpected tale to tell and for this I thank them.

What’s in a Name?

The select group of people who’ve had a chance to read the Perking the Pansies manuscript have commented how different the book is from the blog. Sure, it covers some of the same terrain but, they say it’s much more than just the random comic utterings of a myopic ex-pretty boy from the Smoke. They say it’s a proper book with a plot that has revelation, depth, pathos and pace. Laugh and cry has been mentioned in dispatches. I’m relieved that the initial reaction has been so positive.

There’s just one thing, though. We’re having a heated debate about the subtitle for the book. A subtitle is important because it conveys the subject of the book and should include keywords to help with internet searching and book classification. Perking the Pansies alone might give people the impression that the book is about horticulture!

Obvious keywords for the book include:

Gay – Gay Couple – Expats – Turkey – Surviving

So I thought, why not ask my loyal pansyfans? I know people haven’t read the book yet but if you fancy it, why not vote for your favourite.

Alternatively, if you have a different suggestion, please leave a comment.

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Perking the Pansies, the Book

I’m Coming Out

Uniform Behaviour

Now that the Turkish authorities have banned the home delivery of alcohol, we have to trudge to our local Tansaş supermarket several times a week to replenish our supply. As we meander through the aisles, we invariably bump into Ahmed, our friendly security guard. Ahmed used to work at a beach-side bar but gave up irregular seasonal work for security, year round employment and wages paid on time. He speaks good English and gently berates me for my lack of progress with the local lingo. Quite right too. His job consists of little more than a presence in the store. He’s bored rigid and likes to chat. Supermarkets around the world have one thing in common. They move products around to make the punters complete a full circuit. It encourages impulse buying. Ahmed is always on hand to find what we’re looking for: our very own personal shopper. Unfortunately, he doesn’t help us lug the litre bottles back home.

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Supermarket Sweep

Cheaper than Primark

Will the Real Jack Scott Please Stand Up?

Google sits astride the internet like a leviathan. Forget Yahoo or Bing or a host of smaller search engines, only Google counts. Their search algorithms can make or break an online presence. If you don’t show up in the first few pages of Google, you may as well not be on the internet at all. It’s all about search engine optimisation (SEO) and ways to make it better. There’s an entire industry dedicated to improving it (or trying to cheat the clever geeks at Google). How’s a humble little jobbing blogger in a faraway country most people couldn’t place on a map ever going to make his mark? Well, Perking the Pansies does well. Google favours fresh, frequently renewed content and my content is frequently renewed, if not fresh. Sorted.

1923 -2008

Little Jack Scott, though, struggles. The name is a curse. It’s eclipsed by other more illustrious Jacks plastered all over the web. Who are these pretenders to my rightful throne? Well, there’s Jack Scott, (AKA Giovanni Dominico Scafone Jr) the Canadian singer ‘undeniably the greatest Canadian rock and roll singer of all time,’ apparently. I’d never heard of him. Sorry. Then there’s the late Jack Scott, buck-teethed weather man who died in 2008. He was everyone’s favourite weather guru and brought magnetic weather symbols to live broadcasts on the BBC. Unfortunately, they often slipped down the board or dropped off altogether. My final Jack is the now infamous Mayor of the little town of Cordova in Alabama which was flattened by killer tornadoes earlier this year. Mayor Scott refused to allow trailers into the town to house the newly homeless because he didn’t want to encourage trailer trash. Sounds like a fine and upstanding pillar of the community.

So, what’s a diminutive, washed-up ex pretty boy with his best years behind him to do? Change his name to Dick Stillhard (no wait, that’s already taken).

Thanks to Spainstruck for the inspiration for this one.

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Auntie’s Bloomers

Clever Bitch

Sense and Censorship

The threat of compulsory Government prescribed filters to access the internet here in Turkey seems to have mercifully receded. According to an article in the Turkish Daily News, the use of filters is now voluntary. The article states that during the three month trial period, 22,000 Turkish internet users (out of a total of 11.5 million) signed up to the service. Not exactly a sell-out tour.

Meanwhile in Pakistan, according to the Think Progress website, the Telecommunications Authority has banned users from texting 16,000 words that are considered offensive or obscene. The list of prohibited words (a mixture of Urdu and English) include:

lesbian, virgin, homosexual, condom, intercourse, breast, athlete’s foot, deposit, flogging the dolphin (?), black out, drunk, flatulence, glazed donut, harem, hostage, murder, penthouse, Satan, and wait for it, Jesus Christ.

This has got to be a hoax.

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Gaygle It

One Out, All Out

Top of the Blogs

I was flush with pink pride. Perking the Pansies briefly occupied the top spot on Blogroll Centre, one of the (many, many) blog directories I’ve joined. Sadly, the honour was short-lived, a temporary aberration caused by a transient interest in Now That’s What I Call Old, a post that resulted in 2,700 hits. The next day, Perking the Pansies dropped to 3rd place. A one day, one hit wonder. Doubtless the blog will continue to slide down the charts like an X Factor has-been that never was. To be honest I’m not entirely sure if any of these blog directories is worth the effort or the repetitive strain injury. I joined them on the off-chance they might broaden my audience. I think some are sophisticated enough to help with Google rankings but I wouldn’t know which. All I can say is that I would never consider paying for the dubious privilege of a listing, preferring to spend my dwindling assets on booze, fags and leather thongs.

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The Seven Links Project

My Manx Kitten

Left to My Own Devices

I have been left to my own devices to keep the home fires burning. Liam has flown back to Blighty to take care of his folks. Father-in-law is in hospital and mother-in-law needs a little TLC. His siblings are all doing a turn and Liam is the opening act. So, I have two weeks home alone to fiddle, twiddle and scribble. What to do? There are a few odd jobs to do around the house; they may help to keep me out of mischief.

With winter lurking out to sea, I climbed onto the roof this morning to shut off the water supply from the solar panels. This involved clambering up two rotting wooden ladders and being horse-whipped by the canopy of a giant tree dripping with almost-ripe olives. It has to be done, otherwise the bathroom water heater won’t work. Don’t ask me why. It’s one of the great mysteries of the modern era, like Stonehenge. One of these days I’m going to break my neck.

For no reason other than the title of this post I give you the Pet Shop Boys.

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Home Alone

Because I’m Worth It

Room with a View

Room with a View

Our stone cottage is a little too small to lodge visitors, particularly those who prefer en-suite facilities for those ‘private’ moments. It’s a dilemma. Considering Bodrum’s popularity with the Turkish well-heeled, it’s odd that quality hotels in the centre of town are as rare as a bottle of so-so wine for under 50 lira in a restaurant. There’s no point relying on the star rating. It means little. Our usual recommendation is the Marina Vista. It’s close by and the location – on the promenade opposite the smart marina – can’t be equalled (hence the name, obviously). The top-notch Turkish breakfast served on the roof top restaurant is quite an experience, the foyer and communal areas are lavish and the pool is as inviting as it should be. Nothing is perfect, of course. The hotel isn’t cheap (though less expensive out of season), the rooms are cramped and have next to useless Juliet balconies, and the staff can be surly and unhelpful. I suppose you can’t have everything.

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Sizzling Bodrum

Bodrum, Bodrum so Good They Named it Twice

Cover Story

First impressions are all important. When flirty eyes meet across a crowded bar, loins can start to stir (well, mine do anyway). Likewise, food with a flourish can whet the appetite for even the most average of meals. Visual gratification works for books too. Most expat books I’ve read are either dressed to impress with a stunning snap of shrub against a verdant landscape or attract the eye with a colourful comical cartoon. For Perking the Pansies, I’m fishing for something delicious to stand out from the noble crowd. The artistic people at Creationbooth are working up a design to make my mouth water. The Chief Buyer at Fenwick’s of Bond Street is an old friend of mine. She tells me that orange is very on trend this year. Who am I to argue? Expect something vibrant.

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Bound and Ungagged

Perking the Pansies, the Book

Old Bodrum Renewed

Old Bodrum Renewed

There is an authentic stone cottage in the heart of Bodrum Town sitting prettily in a well-stocked walled garden dominated by an ancient double-trunked olive tree. It is the original homestead of an old Bodrum family. As the family grew wealthy they moved on to larger premises and left their family home to slowly fall into quaint dilapidation. The house has an open-plan biblical feel, with a semi-basement – where I presume animals were once kept – a small mezzanine level and a larger first floor. One day the family had a bright idea. Selling off the family silver was unthinkable but maybe there was a little money to be made from the estate. They decided to renovate: extend the old house and build a brand new cottage in traditional style on the adjacent land where a small barn once stood. It took time, dedication and a few wrangles with the planners but they did it. It is a quality job. The family house now looks superb, sympathetically redressed in recycled stone finery. We seriously considered renting this bijou piece of local history but the cramped and quirky arrangement didn’t quite fit the way we live (no, I don’t mean camp discos, glitter balls and a blacked out sauna). Instead we rent the new house next door with its more practical and flexible living space. Both houses stand out from the crowd and are a happy snappers delight.

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Bodrum, a Town of Two Halves

Bikini Bare

Tumbledown Bodrum

Bodrum is sprinkled with tumbledown old stone houses, often open to the elements and slowly crumbling like a Turkish version of Pompeii. It’s a shame. Some of these gorgeous derelict dwellings may not be suitable for modern family living but what about a little tourist income? With a little imagination and investment many could be sensitively recycled into lucrative holiday lets attracting top dollar from the more discerning visitor. Not many addresses can claim to share the same street as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

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Tomorrow’s post – Old Bodrum Renewed.

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Bodrum Nice and Slow

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