Whitney Houston, RIP

RIP

Another prodigious talent wrecked by addiction. No doubt the internet is awash with tasteless jokes and serves-her-right statements. Whitney Houston’s slow descent into hell was a media circus that picked over the bones of her catastrophic life. Some people seem to take pleasure in it. According to Guinness World Records she was the most awarded female artist of all time.

Ms Houston once said:

“I finally faced the fact that it isn’t a crime not having friends. Being alone means you have fewer problems.”

I wasn’t a great fan though I really liked the ‘My Love is Your Love’ album and this is my favourite track.

The Big Chill

Our trip to Blighty was blighted by the big chill. Before our exodus, I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’d experienced snow in London with its urban microclimate. In fact, three of our four last winter tours have been a white out. Perhaps global warming really is pushing the Gulf Stream out of kilter. What next, winter fairs on a frozen Thames? Shocking. Fortunately, we landed at Heathrow just before the weather closed in. Two years ago, we were diverted to Cardiff by a light dusting at Gatwick.

Once on land, we trundled off through town to celebrate the half century of an old friend and watched the arctic flurry from the comfort of an Islington restaurant. As the winter wonderland of bobble hats and woolly scarfs scurried past the window, a wonderful warmth enveloped us like the Ready Brek halo. Glory be to the god of central heating.

Perking the Pansies eBook

You don’t need a Kindle to download the Perking the Pansies ebook. All you need is a Kindle Reading App for your iPhone, PC, iPad or Android device. Download the app for free from Amazon.

Back to the Future

Liam and I were minding our own business in Tansaş. We were queuing up at the till, weighed down by a basket-full of cheap plonk. The lady in front of us turned towards me and smiled. “You’re Jack,” she said. “I love your book.” I blushed like a spotty teen and shifted uncomfortably from side to side. It was like being a z-list celeb, furtively emerging from a grubby massage parlour with my tail between my legs. Next time, I’ll don a floral headscarf and designer shades before I venture out.
I composed myself and we chatted over the veg and booze. It turns out that we’re near neighbours. My fellow shopper was a former Bodrum Belle of years long past and she recently returned to renew her club membership. As an old and new kid on the block, she has started her own blog, Back to Bodrum. The then and now observations offer a unique perspective of a town on the move. Take a look – fascinating stuff.

The Postman Never Rings Twice

The Turkish postal system is a hit and miss affair at the best of times. We do get mail delivered to our house. Well, not delivered exactly, more chucked over the wall into the garden. I’m not joking. The postman always rings twice? Round these parts he can’t be arsed to ring at all. Thankfully, we’ve had little to do with post services since our arrival from Blighty. This is just as well. Receiving the credit card bill a week after it is due to be paid is a novel approach to financial management. Recently though, I’ve been sending one or two of my books to people hereabouts. Complementary, of course; I’m not allowed to make money here. I’ve been down to the main post office in the centre of Bodrum a couple of times now. What is it that makes post office counter staff the world over miserable, surly and unhelpful?

Hot Pipes and Wonky Erections

The good burghers of Bodrum have been ripping the town apart with giant yellow diggers. No pain, no gain. It’ll all look fine and dandy by the start of the season. The town will be freshly dressed to impress, with newly-laid tarmac accessorised with fancy paving, modern street furniture and lush landscaping, just in time for the Easter early birds (we hope). If last year is anything to go by, it’ll never be quite finished – a few edges will be left a little on the rough side.

It isn’t just the posh promenade that’s getting the makeover. The little local square near our house has been furnished with brand new playground equipment for the little ‘uns – a multi-coloured medley of swings, slides and metal tubes in bright primary hues. During the height of summer, the kiddies risk being permanently soldered to the glowing pipes in the 45 degree heat.

The old lamp posts along our street have been replaced by a row of elegant green lights. We’ve been without street lighting since the old lamp post blew up a few weeks ago – so the new light next to our garden gate is a welcome illumination. It was installed by five burly men. Well, one did the erecting; the other four supervised. It’s not the straightest erection I’ve ever seen. I should know. I’m a bit of an expert.

The Graveyard Slot

Where to now?

My 500th post was about marriage equality which seems fitting considering we’re a couple of old ‘married’ pansies. I’ve no idea how many words this miraculous milestone represents. It must be more than 100,000, maybe a lot more. It’s been a great ride on an epic journey of little importance that’s kept me out of mischief and sober(ish). And now there’s the book. I’m often asked if I’d always intended to start a blog and write a book. The answer is no. In fact, we didn’t give any thought at all to what we’d do after we paddled ashore. One lesson we learned very early was that neither the journey nor the destination is the be all and end all. What really counts is what you do after you’ve arrived. That’s the clever bit.

I started the blog 15 months ago. Generally, I’ve written little and often, virtually every day. This strategy has worked well. However, my daily ramblings can’t continue now that I’m preoccupied with promoting the book to earn a honest crust (outside Turkey, obviously). The blog’s been good to me. It deserves my best attention. I’ve decided that the only way to do this is to change the recipe and post less often. There wasn’t a post yesterday and there won’t be one tomorrow. Will this result in plummeting ratings, a kick to the graveyard slot and cancellation of the show mid-series?  We’ll see.

And this is the reason why I can’t do it all.

Turkey v Fergie

Bad Hair Day

I assume we won’t be seeing Fergie slumming and beach-bumming it down Gümbet way any time soon. Not unless she wants her collar felt by a teenage paramilitary conscript and a stiff sentence from an un-amused Turkish beak. The ill-advised ex-HRH was foolish to embroil herself in a clandestine filming raid on a huge Turkish orphanage for disabled children in 2008. Poor Fergie’s a loose cannon at the best of times. She’s not cut out for investigative journalism and neither is my foster home. She’d do better earning her living more honestly and less controversially. Apparently, she’s to be prosecuted for violating the rights of five Turkish children and damaging the reputation of the Turkish State. I humbly suggest that Turkey’s reputation is best served by the dropping the whole thing.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours

If you live in the United Kingdom and would like to buy a signed copy of Perking the Pansies, Jack and Liam move to Turkey, delivered free, please click here.

If you’d like a signed copy of the book but live outside the UK, please leave a comment on this post or contact me via my personal website.

The Times, Are They A-Changing?

I came across an article in Gaystarnews that reported that a Turkish journalist, Serdar Arseven,  and the newspaper, Yeni Akit (now called Vakit), have been fined by Turkey’s High Court for insulting the LGBT community. The case arose because the newspaper ran an Arseven-penned piece called ‘Üskül prefers perverts,’ when, Zafer Üskül, then head of the Turkish Parliamentary Human Rights Commission, attended a meeting with KAOS GL, a leading LGBT organisation. Üskül sued both the hack and the rag. The case went all the way to the High Court. The court decided that,

“The freedom of the press does not encompass the freedom to insult the personal freedoms of individuals.”

Generally, I’m not in favour of prosecuting anyone because of an insult. It seems to me that the freedom to insult (though not to incite – a very fine line, I know) is a fundamental component of free speech. Just because I’m offended by what someone says, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be allowed to say it. However, in this case, I’m happy with the outcome because the liberal traditions that I cherish have such shallow roots in Turkey that a line must be drawn somewhere. Despite the token fine (about £1,500 for the paper and £400 for the journalist), this huge leap in the right direction should not be underestimated in a Muslim-majority country where LGBT people are, at best, invisible and at worse, well I’m sure you can guess.