Thursday, 9 August 2007

Sick in Transit Gloria

That, above, is one for the Latin freaks. You all know who you are. In your togas, mumbling about the Ides of March.

Twenty six hours in a crate in the bowels of a Thai Airlines Jumbo. I've spent better twenty-six hour slabs of my life.

So has Barbra.

So traumatised was she that she burst into a Gloria Estafan medley.

I threw up.

And there was my Kodak Box Brownie.

Next stop:


6 comments:

Anonymous said...

you are such a show-off, dermott. like the time you 'read' lord jim in the crib version to impress that girl! and if you mention my singing again, i'll see you choke on an oleander!

Dermott said...

Yeah yeah, Barbra, you illiterate bint. Learn to punctuate and use a shift key before you show your testa brutta around here again.

Judith in Umbria said...

If you'd a lick of sense, you'd have taxied immediately to centro Milano for some carpaccio di manzo. But I'll bet that's not what you did.

How about some nice pork bones soon?

Dermott said...

I'm not in Milano yet. Blogwise. You'll have to wait to find out.

Oscar said...

Dermot,
Now that you're becoming famous (although not as famous as me in Cortona!), you might want to consider getting some new head shots done... getting in touch with your feminine side is so passe' and makes you look half-fruit. I can recommend some great photographers (all arrive with doggy treats, chicken snacks and assistants to give belly rubs between shoots... hard work having your picture taken you know!).

Dermott said...

Passé? Half-fruit? Listen, Oscar. If and when I want advice from a hamster, I'll try a pet shop.