Been a while since I started a blog with “it’s been a quiet week”, but it’s been a quiet week. Not because I’ve been sat around waiting for work, but because I’ve been sat in the Portuguese sun, burning/tanning myself to the traditional lobster red that only a pasty englishman can achieve.
We’re still in Coimbra, Portugal with Coldplay and around 47 trucks parked up in a dustbowl about 10k from the Estadio de Coimbra. There’s been 3 shows so far (I haven’t watched one yet) and tonight is the night we roll out for Barcelona, so sleep and rest is the order for the day.
In the past week I’ve walked many, many kilometres, made a whole bunch of new friends (English, French, and Portuguese), and explored the city. I’ve also learned that my bad Spanish is of not much use in Portugal, but it does amuse the natives.
I hope you are enjoying these posts and that they interest you. I know that over the years I became infamous for my tales of debauchery, and then…Well, more infamous due to my tales of mental health and a cascade of romantic failures, but one thing I’ve always been is honest. And it is this honesty that my good friend, Josh, has called into question lately. He’s asked me where the story about me sitting in a park last week, trying to score off the local young lads was, or the (confusing) story about me drinking whiskey, waiting for someone to come and meet me in a bar, when it turned out they were in California and not Portugal, was.
So I think it’s time to take the stabilisers off and return to the old ways of the idiot, because, my lord, I do some stupid, stupid shit. And it’s all funny.
Anyway, Coimbra has been great, but I’m ready for Barcelona. I haven’t been there since I dated a Brazilian prostitute who flew to stay with me in England, and promptly got deported back to Spain.
But that is another crazy story for another time.