Trailer Trash

When I planned my virtual tour, I knew the book would have to take centre stage. There would be little point if it didn’t. But I didn’t want to just bang on about it and do the hard sell. People would get bored and simply switch channels. I know I would. I had to find a theme, something to maintain interest. I also wanted to say something related to the people that have kindly let me loose on their blogs. A theme gradually emerged: me. My favourite subject.

Today’s post is on Helen’s European Journey. Elegant Helen is wander-lusting gypsy-like across Europe (well, so far across Iberia – give ‘em time) in a travelling caravan with hunky husband and two pretty pussies in tow. So, folks, I give you… me and caravans. Not the dusty camel trains of antiquity hauling exotic goods along the ancient Silk Road from China to Anatolia, but the common or garden static metal type of my childhood. It’s a tenuous link, but stay with me.

Over the Helen for Trailer Trash

Jack on the Radio

My publisher, Jo Parfitt, recently interviewed on her Writer’s Abroad Radio Show. Blimey, I felt like a studio starlet – though more minor Rank than major MGM. Jo just chucked me in at the deep end to sink or swim – no rehearsals, no re-takes. I was nervous – lots of ums and arrs. Despite the spluttering I didn’t drown – not too distasteful or disgraceful.  Jo also interrogated me for her website. I got these questions in advance so my answers were a tad more considered.

Check out my radio gaga here and my more thoughtful dispatch from the front line here.

Check out what all the fuss is about.

M’Lady and the Crazy Marionettes

Next whistle stop on my virtual book tour (are you still on the train?) is Liz Cameron’s blog, Slowly-by-Slowly. Liz writes with depth and poetry about her cross-cultural life as an American married to a Turk through the eyes of a troupe of Ottoman era Karagöz shadow puppets. She’s not insane. It’s a metaphor, silly. Of greatest interest to me, though, is that Liz lives in Provincetown, a pretty little New England seaside resort which is a summer mecca for gay visitors – a kind of American Brighton. Yes, I am that shallow. My invite to ogle the shocking males must be lost in the post. The shocking mail in Turkey is to blame, no doubt.

Hop over to Slowly-by-Slowly to catch the book review and to hang out with M’Lady and the crazy marionettes.

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Bedlam in Bodrum Revisited

Book Tour Intermission

While Bodrum collectively nursed its New Year hangover, the mechanical diggers moved in and started excavating the half of the promenade that wasn’t ripped apart last winter. These CATs don’t purr. Thankfully, we live far enough away from the main drag and didn’t have to endure the deafening rat-a-tat-tat competing with the deafening rat-a-tat-tat in our heads. Others were not so fortunate. Lessons have been learned from last year’s scramble to complete the makeover in time for the Spring rush. Not a minute has been wasted. Entire shop and restaurant frontages have been torn down leaving doorways hanging in the air. It’s not a case of mind the step, more grab the rope. Following the torrential rain of the last few days, the wide strip where the pavement used to be now resembles a bog which can only be crossed by impromptu paths of broken slabs set down by proprietors desperate to keep their doors open. Wheelchairs not welcome. Take a look at the before, during and after snaps.

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You might also like Bedlam in Bodrum

Mete’s World

Book Tour Intermission

We know a young Turkish man called Mete. He’s at university studying hard to make something of himself. He’s also gay. He’s not riddled with guilt. He’s resolutely out and comfortable in his own skin. He’s one of the new breed of young modern Turks demanding to live and breathe free. It won’t be easy.

People ask me why I don’t write more of the plight of LGBT people in my foster land on my blog and why my book isn’t about the struggle for sexual equality. Actually, I have touched on this in both, but neither the blog nor the book is intended to be a political or social polemic. Maybe my next project will be more radical. People who know me know I have a lot to say. It saddens me that if I do, I will have to do it from a safe distance.

I greatly admire Mete. He reminds me of a young Jack. Blighty the Seventies wasn’t so different from Turkey in 2012. Be brave Mete and stay safe.

Take a look at Mete’s World.

And check out the book.

Istanbul Stranger

I was really pleased when Istanbul Stranger asked me to guest on her blog as part of my virtual book tour. She’s deliciously witty, calls a spade a spade and her sharp observations about her life in Old Constantinople are a joy to read. She’s American but I think her writing style has a distinctive ironic British twist. Maybe she was a Brit in a former life. I’m there to plug my book but, as this isn’t Oprah’s Book Club, I thought I’d regale you with tales of my first visit to the good old US of A.

Ladies and Gents I give you Yankee Tales.

The Ab Fab Impossibly Glamorous

The Ab Fab Impossibly Glamorous

impossibly glamorousI’d like to introduce American Expat returnee, Charles Ayres. Charles is funny and talented, and quite famous in his own lunchtime. He’s written for Harper’s Bazaar and Metropolis, handled the international PR for Tokyo FM’s annual Earth Day concert and popped up the big and small screen, most notably on the Japanese TV show “It’s OK to Laugh” (Waratte ii Tomo) and film “The Billion Yen Jackpot!” (Juoku-en Kasegu!)

Charles lived in the Land of the Rising Sun for 12 years and left after the 2011 earthquake. After experiencing the Big One, he moved to San Francisco to wait for the next Big One. He’s released his autobiography, Impossibly Glamorous, “The rudest book you’ll ever love,” detailing his life growing up as a raver in the American Midwest and taking over New York and Japan.

Charles has been a great supporter of Perking the Pansies, virtually from the beginning, and jumped in to help with promoting the book. He was one of the first to review Perking the Pansies

Check out Impossibly Glamorous on…

amazon.co.uk

amazon.com

Perking Across the Pond

I first stumbled across Jared a while ago. I can’t remember how. It was one of those chance meetings. I was immediately drawn to his writing – witty, eloquent, reflective, sometimes broody, sometimes ironic, always interesting, always honest. Two recurrent themes seem to re-surface – his relationship and love for his children and his relationship and love for his late father. These touching refrains are both intertwined and separate at the same time. It’s a fascinating and compelling paradox. You won’t be surprised to hear, therefore, that I’m delighted to be featured as a guest blogger on lick the fridge.

Hop over to Jared’s blog for Perking Across the Pond.

AussieBum

Russell is a hunky Brit vetpat who’s travelled across three continents with his gorgeous Aussie wife, Sarah, in search of a life less ordinary. He’s found it in Sydney (who wouldn’t?). Although Russ bats for the majority team, he’s very much a modern metrosexual kind of man and looks absolutely fabulous in his AussieBums (or so Sarah says). For those who have no idea what AussiesBums are, I’ve added a link for your titillation.

Russ kindly interviewed me as part of my virtual book tour. Hop over to A Life Less Ordinary to find out what I had to say. While you are there, why not check out the book?

Cue the naughty video.

Every Little Helps

Book Tour Intermission

Liam and I spend most of our festive time in Blighty apart. It is our habit. He dispenses TLC to his folks while I tour the Capital like Elizabeth the First dumping myself on various friends and family. Two experiences stick in my mind.

I joined Liam at his folks for a couple of nights and helped with the festive shopping. Picture it – Tesco’s, Christmas Eve, 2011. A cast of thousands weaving over-laden shopping trolleys through the heaving aisles like bad-tempered dodgem drivers. Their faces gave the game away – London during the Blitz. The frayed staff wore festive plumage and forced smiles, praying to the Baby Jesus for closing time. It was as merry as Christmas Day at the Queen Vic.

We shuffled our way along the mile-long till queue, manoeuvred the unfamiliar hire car out of the bumper-to-bumper car park and snaked back to the house, emptied of festive joy. After we packed away the calorific goodies, I stepped outside the front door for a cheeky cigarette. I spotted a corpulent covered lady in Horn of Africa robes wander down the road towards me. A young boy skipped along at her side singing Jingle Bells. She smiled as she passed. That simple, single act of cheer recharged my yuletide spirit. I stepped back inside to recharge it further, courtesy of my father-in-law’s bottle of Jameson’s.

Have you checked out the cheery book?