A MIND COMPLETELY BITTEN BY THE SERPENT OF SEX "You may think that the Grand Tour is about politics, & culture, & art, and you would be quite right; but it is also about gambling, and drinking, and sex. Particularly sex."
When mother passes, I really will be free to travel Europe as much as I want. There will be nothing to miss at home. Until then let me enjoy every moment I can with my mother. Reichenbach Falls, all of Italy. There will be nothing to miss at home, I can travel more freely than ever before. But I need security now. I need to have money to move straight into a hotel, then find a flat in a week. This is what this hiatus has made me see.
Things I’ve learned from this trip: 1. Never go on a long train journey across Europe in summer. The heat and often lack of effective AC on the trains make it too horrible. Stick to Brussels in Summer. 2. I won’t bother with Nuremberg again. There were AMAZING girls in Frauentormauer, but if I did nothing this time then I never will so no point. 3. I finally broke the ice with Inna, and that is such a relief. Like an Albanian Maria Schneider; an Albanian Selena Gomez.
Why am I not rampantly fucking my way around Europe like a wild rutting stag? Tooling like Byron in gondola, in alley, on table, under table, in carriage, etc etc? The pox held me back of course. Hopefully this next couple of trips I CAN overcome my reticence and be that mad, lust crazed rutting stag. Anyone half fanciable.
Regensburg, our first stop ticked off. One hour of the journey gone already. 10am. One & a half hours gone. 1030 Two hours gone. Plattling. A lovely, half-empty peaceful train so far. I’ve said it before, the ICE is one of the wonders of the modern world (Europe, anyway). On an ICE travelling across Europe, for however many hours, feels a real pleasure. The journey itself is a treat. We are really not picking up hardly any passengers along the way either. At Plattling and Passau the train draws in to an almost totally empty platform. How peaceful Europe feels compared to living in London!
I don’t think Europe or at least myself have got long before something truly horrific happens, so all the more impetus to travel more faster and faster and seize my erotic pornographic pleasures while I can, in Brussels, Nuremberg and Vienna, and Berlin.
A very attractive black-haired policewoman going down the road, puffing on a cigarette. I don’t think the Metropolitan Police are allowed to do that. The fact that I’m sure the WSK hookers’ days’ are numbered might prompt me to return to Vienna much sooner than I otherwise might have. Is another of my favourite naughty places really about to bite the dust. I lost Fortuna Kino and Flying Scotsman in 2015. Surely I will lose WSK and Rue des Commercants at some point this year. I think as well as the emasculation, puritanisation, sterilisation, castration of old masculine Europe, we can say we are seeing the Islamisation of Europe. The French minister who brought in the law criminalising men who use prostitutes was Najat Belkacem, of Moroccan muslim stock. The mayor of Brussels Sint-Joost who has made the window girls close down at 11pm at night and on Sundays is Emir Kir, another person of Muslim faith. It was that —- Lutfur Rahman who stopped the male strippers at that White Swan gay pub in Tower Hamlets. Even Paul Convery who shut down every porn cinema in Islington & tried so hard every year to shut down the Flying Scotsman is married to a Muslim woman. I’m not sure who provoked the police raids of Fortuna Kino after all these years of harmless naughty fun but one would not be surprised to see an increased Muslim representation in the local Vienna government. This despite the fact when you walk up and down the windows of Rue d’Aerschot, probably 90% of the men around you are Muslim; about 50% of the men I see in Fifth Avenue are Muslim. When I am back in London, I could walk around the corner and have a pint in the Scottish Stores, the Flying Scotsman as was; how depressing would that be. Is there anything more depressing than seeing an establishment where I enjoyed some of the greatest naughty highs of my life, the “high nights that persuade us to put off suicide”, now turned into “respectable” establishments. All those crushingly depressing cocktail bars and sports bars in Stuttgarter Platz, the Gelado Cocktail Bar which once was Mon Cheri, Albert’s Bar which once was Starlight, Night Dreams and Golden Gate, etc, etc. All the sperm that was ejaculated in those bedrooms, all the orgasms, all the sexual spiritual highs.