Cooking the Books

Our local supermarket, Tansaş, is a short stroll from the house along the narrow ancient street that Alexander the Great once minced down in 334 BCE. Like many ancient Anatolian thoroughfares, the road is just wide enough for two camels to pass each other unhindered. It wasn’t built for a speeding motorcade of Nissan tanks flanked by Vespas on amphetamines. It’s a one way street but we look in both directions to keep body and soul together. It’s just as well the Green Cross Code was hard-wired into my brain as a child.

Three or four times a week, we pass a two storey building containing a shop unit on the ground floor. In the short time we’ve lived in Bodrum, the unit has changed hands several times – variously reincarnated as a small market, café, kuaför (hairdressers) and now a market again. The current proprietor is a smiling middle-aged man with a kind face, balding on top with side strands stretched back and fashioned into a trendy pony tail. He spends his days sitting on a plastic patio chair, chain smoking and chatting amiably to passers-by. We’ve not once seen a customer cross his threshold. Alas, like the predecessors, his business seems doomed to fail. It occurs to me that in Blighty, a prospective buyer would check the books before parting with the readies. In Turkey I assume there are no books to cook.

Check out my new book:

Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam Move to Turkey

High Five Cs

While Nurse Liam is in Londra doing his Florence Nightingale gig, he frets that I’m wasting away on a liquid diet. There’s a lot to waste away these days. I could do with dropping a few pounds around the midriff. Nevertheless, he has a point. My culinary talents would never get me on Masterchef. When I was a young gay boy about town I considered my function in life to be purely decorative. That worked extremely well until I reached about thirty when the looks began to fade. After that I had to learn some proper life skills that would keep, and not just attract, a partner. These days, I’m quite handy about the house. I can scrub better than the best char in town. Sadly, the kitchen has remained a bridge too far. This may explain my life mantra – the 5Cs. This isn’t an indication of bog-standard IQ, but the formula I’ve applied to assess relationship potential. What are the 5Cs? I thought you’d never ask.

Cook – I know good food when I eat it.

Conversation – A brain and an opinion worth hearing.

Car (or the ability to drive) – Another skill I’ve never mastered.

Cuddles – I’m a romantic old sod.

And the last C? Well, I’ll leave that to your filthy imagination.

What’s your formula?

Check out my new book:

Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey

Beautiful People

Laugh Out Loud Stuff

I took a much-needed break from promoting Perking the Pansies. I switched on the TV, put my feet up and settled down to  watch Beautiful People on BBC Entertainment. The series is from the magical pen of Jonathan Harvey, the creative comic genius behind Beautiful Thing (one of my favourite films) and Gimme, Gimme, Gimme, the deliciously wicked, surreal TV comedy starring James Dreyfus and the inimitable Kathy Burke. There’s a reason I’m wittering on about this: something interesting cropped up in one of the episodes, How I Got My Water Feature, inspired by the British national obsession in the late Nineties with Ground Force (a gardening makeover programme featuring the bouncing, bra-less breasts of Charlie Dimmock). One of the characters came out with the immortal line ‘We’re just planting perky pansies.’ I recoiled in horror. I’d never seen this episode before I started the blog. Honest, Your Honour. Will Jonathan sue me for breach of copyright? I hope not. Maybe a case of great minds think alike? Even if Mr Harvey’s mind is a significantly greater than mine.

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Ground Hog Day

Auntie’s Bloomers

The Girl’s Got Balls

No balls on this boy

Our neighbour, bubbly Beril has just returned from an extended stay in Ankara to see family. She’s been away for about three weeks leaving Bianca, her fluffy white pubescent pussy and child substitute, in the expert care of hubby Vadim (not that they’re actually married – deliciously scandalous in these parts). She’s returned to a shocking discovery which has rocked her world. No, Vadim hasn’t developed a Rakı habit and taken up with a local floozy. That wouldn’t be that shocking. The fluffy feline has gone from precocious kitten to feisty minx, seeing off the competition and guarding her territory with feline gusto. The girl’s got balls. No really, the girl’s got real balls. Bianca has become Bianco.

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Drums and Drugs

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf

Perking the Pansies, Unwrapped

Perking the Pansies, Unwrapped
What’s Santa bringing you this year?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover for Perking the Pansies. As threatened, it’s colourful with a lot of pansies and a delicious hint of Turkey. I think it’ll catch the eye on the book shelf. Let’s face it, it’ll probably glow in the dark. A huge thank you to award-winning author, Paul Burston, who has given such a radiant review. Paul wrote:

“An entertaining story, told with wit and insight.” Paul Burston, author, The Gay Divorcee

I’m really looking forward to presenting the book at the Polari Literary Salon in London early next year. Thank you also to the other reviewers who have given the book the thumbs up. I’m thrilled. You can read what they had to say here.

Perking the Pansies available now to pre-order on Amazon.co.uk. Order today and the book will be delivered to you soon after it’s published on 15th December 2011. It’ll be available on to order on Amazon.com very soon.

Thank you to all those who voted and commented (good and critical) on my post, What’s in a Name? After much straw-polling, soul searching and deliberation, my publisher, Jo Parfitt, had an overnight epiphany. The next day, she emailed me with unconcealed excitement.

“Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey”

Just like that, a book title was born. Inspired.

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Cover Story

Polari Literary Salon

Gentleman Jack

Nose to Nipple Brits

To provide a little liquid respite from the endless book edits, I joined the Gümbet Gals for toasts and tittle-tattle. I hailed the dolly on the promenade, paid my fare and sat next to an elderly Turk who began to engage me in animated conversation. Despite my pathetic attempts to explain in Turklish that I couldn’t understand a word, he wittered on regardless, much to the amusement of the Turkish ladies in front of us. I smiled sweetly like the Queen Mother, nodding now and again to pacify him. The dolly sped over the hilly promontory that separates Bodrum from its uglier sister and dropped me off at the edge of the resort. I strolled through the silent streets. Gümbet is closed for the winter and all the tattooed pot-bellied Brits have returned to Blighty. My destination was Jack’s Bar (the name’s just a happy co-incidence), an inexpensive and unpretentious little watering hole just off the now locked up main drag. It’s one of the few establishments that stays open all year. I spent a funny, sunny afternoon gassing and guzzling with the Gals. As the sun set and the air grew chilly, I’d had my fill and the delightful owner gave me a lift home. What a gent.

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Painting the Town Pink

Dream Girls, the Nightmare

Stonewall’s Bigot of the Year

Gay marriage is a hot topic across the pond, particularly since the State of New York legalised it in July. The noisy vitriol from the opponents is depressingly predictable. In the end, I hope reason will triumph over ignorance. Meanwhile, over in Blighty, Stonewall recently awarded Melanie Phillips the Bigot of the Year Award. It’s much deserved. Ms Phillips is a columnist for the Daily Mail (no surprises there) and has written extensively on LGBT rights (they shouldn’t have any), Civil Unions (What next, getting hitched to your budgie?) Gay Marriage (God says no). Perhaps her most ludicrous assertion is:

“Mad as this may seem [you said it!], school children are to be bombarded with homosexual references… In science, they will be directed to ­ animal species such as emperor penguins and sea horses, where the male takes a lead role in raising its young.”

So, let me get this right. All fathers who bring up their children are gay? Does Ms Phillips drink?

In the final analysis, nothing I can say will make much of a difference but this video just might:

Thanks to What’s for Tea Tonight, Dear for the video

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Gay Marriage in New York

Second Time Around


Tales from the Water Closet

Emiköy Alan, who as a hunky young rookie snatched the Queen’s shilling but found it to be debased, lives with the missus in a traditional Turkish village near Dalyan. Alan writes affectionately of their lives as rustic emigreys in his blog Archers of Okçular. He often leaves witty (so he thinks) comments on my posts. In fact, he’s my number one pundit. It gives him a little pleasure between the frequent power cuts they endure in the wilderness.

Alan recently published a post about the evolution of Turkish privies from low slung to high tech. To be mildly obsessed with evacuation is a peculiarly British pre-occupation. It’s our Dunkirk spirit. Alan reminds us of the all-in-one dump and rinse pans that are now common in this part of the world. The in-pan bidet accessory is a novel concept. Don’t attempt it in winter, though. The icy rush could cause a seizure in those with a weak constitution. When I first tried it, the water pressure was so high that the jet shot between my legs and hit the wall opposite. These days I prefer to use a pack of wet wipes to maintain a fragrant ring.

Cue the funny video:

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Have You Been?

Silent But Deadly

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