Just saw my Max Hotel has won the Trip Advisor award for best Brussels hotel of the year—a framed photograph in the lobby

Just saw my Max Hotel has won the Trip Advisor award for best Brussels hotel of the year—a framed photograph in the lobby; I was just about to complain about the foul smell coming from my drains in my bathroom but when I saw that I felt it would be too churlish of me so I kept quiet. A lovely little basic hotel, and at 41 euros—in August!—ridiculously cheap. For budget travellers, I cannot recommend the Max enough. The beer from the vending machine is ICE cold. What more need I say.

I feel so at home in the Max Hotel. I really could live here. If I was able to do that I would be a happy man

I feel so at home in the Max Hotel. I really could live here. If I was able to do that, I would be a happy man. Sadly, I do have to work in London—in a very lovely job. And yes the Cine Paris films have been crap again, the street girls have been crap again, the 5th Avenue girls are really crap, the Empire dancers are really crap—but it doesn’t matter; it is enough that these places exist. Finding the occasional diamond in these places is worth the wait. There was AMAZING quality in the Nuremberg windows and laufhauses and I did nothing with any of them. It is about finding places I feel comfortable, and I have that in Brussels. I will wait for the odd diamond to come to the surface; hopefully one day soon these jihadist losers will fade away and Brussels can really start to bloom & blossom again (erotically speaking). Berlin for me is dead, erotically speaking. When Stuttgarter Platz was wiped out, then for me Berlin was wiped out. The memories from those nights in Hanky Panky, Mon Cheri and Golden Gate in particular are so strong, so glorious. Munich for me is dead, erotically speaking, nothing on offer except 50 euro private dances! Waste of time and money. And Nuremberg I don’t think I will return to. So that leaves Brussels and Vienna. And from this week’s experience NOTE TO SELF—no more long train journeys in summer. So Brussels only for summer. Vienna can wait for winter.

Back in the Max Hotel and oh I cannot help thinking “Home Sweet Home”

Back in the Max Hotel, and oh I cannot help thinking “Home Sweet Home”. It started raining as soon as I started walking down from Gare du Nord. Lovely. I’m not sure I’m ever happier than when in Brussels in the rain. We will see if there is ANY excitement for me later to justify this. Vienna was disappointing last time, Berlin was massively disappointing (the final nail in the coffin I’m afraid); Brussels can you salvage anything for me?

324 back in the Hotel Max lounge with my can of Jupiler after a long time

324 back in the Hotel Max lounge, with my can of Jupiler, after a long time. The last afternoon of my long holiday. Any miracles left? If Fifth Avenue is no good (it won’t be) I hope I can force myself up to Gare du Nord and the Sexyworld kabins, as I know that is the only thing that really floats my boat, and then take a last stroll up & down the Rue d’Aerschot windows. A Brussels Grill before bed, and then cela, C’est tout. That is it.

It has turned into one of those holidays. Now here in the Max hotel lounge on my last day there is an old man sitting at my table

It has turned into one of those holidays. Now here in the Max hotel lounge on my last day, there is an old man sitting at my table. Is he one of those who has been following my blogs & books and now has come to Brussels to pay pilgrimage to me and follow in my every footstep, I wonder—ha ha so conceited am I! I find someone sitting in my usual seat and assume it is because of hero worship of me! As long as you can make yourself laugh, you’ll never be lonely (for long). I feel completely—oh as I write these words, he gets up and puts his coat on and LEAVES my table! Feel completely out of sorts as I arrive back in Brussels. Ill at ease, loss of nerve.

The hotel lounge was full of noisy people 10 minutes ago but the housekeeping lady with the hoover has cleared them all out. Bravo madame!

The hotel lounge was full of noisy people 10 minutes ago, but the housekeeping lady with the hoover has cleared them all out. Bravo, madame! Kept company last night by one of those wonderful/awful Jean Rollin lesbian vampire films, The Rape of the Vampire. Released in France in May 1968 and very very controversial at the time though it is hard now to understand why. How thrilled I am that the Max Hotel have regained the missing channels—AB3, Action and D17. Quite unexpected, but very much welcomed, even if D17 seems to have some obsession with appalling preening ladyboy Kendji Girac. If you ARE really handsome, then you don’t need to PLAY handsome as well. He lays it on so thick he makes himself contemptible. He IS handsome, so he doesn’t need to keep putting on that little smile and flashing eyes. Play AGAINST your handsomeness, like I do, and we would not find you so pathetic. Sean Connery was handsome but he acted brutally. That is why men love him. A handsome man who tries to make himself look even more handsome is contemptible to other men, I think. 12 midday, still on my 2nd beer. Bit steadier today. Best memories of this holiday? The Brussels Grill steaks and Domino’s Pizzas. That says it all; but what fantastic memories they are.