Goan Gold


So that’s me nicely settled into South Goa, lazing astride its luscious beaches with a bike & a huge smile on mi face. I love this part of Inda, this is my third time here & its the perfect place to assemble all the pieces of evidence appertaining to Jesus-in-India, which I have finally titled THE JESUS JIGSAW.

Our journey here began in Varkala, where after an early morning train ride we were soon on a water bus, heading through the gorgeous Keralian backwaters.



Cue exotic birdlife, waving kids, & a ten mile an hour cruise on what has to be one of the most beautiful bus-jounreys in the world. Before we set off I finally got my hands on some gin, which helps the watery swirl of a journey immenseley. It took 8 hours, broken up by a lunch break & chai break, & then we were at Aleppy, ffrom where we trundled by bus north for two more hours to Fort Cochin.


Cochin is a bit touristy, now, but is a pleasnat place where you lounge on the rooftops among the Portuguese buildings, or lazily stroll along the sea-front, admiring the Chinese water nets & checking out the catch of the day. It was all a bit twee really, & I was happy to continue our wayfaring to Calicut, where we got a room for 24 hours waiting for our train to Goa. During that time I spent a tenner on getting my laptop audio input fixed, with the prospect of DJing in Goa in mind.


So there we were, one more ride from paradise, & we’d taken an AC carriage on the train – which is essentially a normal sleeper with curtains & blankets, & unbroken by chai-sellers & touts etc. A coupel of units along were a bunch of American exchange students, who we ended up entertaining with guitar songs. Then, at 4.30 AM, we pulled into Canacona train station & walked towards Palolem. I knew that Cleopatras bar was open 24 hours, & on arriving we caught the tail-end of a Silent Disco that had been held there – the first of the season – full of comedy characters & cheap bear – & we had well & truly arrived in the party.

Palolem Beach
Palolem Beach

Later that morning I got mates rates on beach huts at the same place where a mate of mine, Jimmy Van De Mer, was doing his Magic Cinema a few years back. We had also arrived on the same day as an open mic night only two hundred yards from where we were staying – Micvkey’s Bar – & that night Victor unleashed his wildness on the unsuspecting Patnem public, which literally brought the house down. Great fun! I also got talking to Mickey, the reult of which is me organising, & getting paid for, two parties for him at Christmas & New Year – an echo of last years double Kijijis over the festive season.


Also on that first night, Saraswathi parachuted me in a wee muse to help me in my work. She is a cute 30 year old journalist from Ireland, & a woman of infinite patience. We got free beers for playing, & lets say I was pretty steaming. That didn’t put her off though, & she kindly escorted me back to her 2000 rupee a night posh hut…. Anyway, come morning I blinked myself awake to be met by, ‘Do you remember what happened last night?’
‘No,’ I replied sheepishly.
“Well, Damo, I woke up to you pissing in my suitcase, after which you knocked the window pane out of my door.”
There was a certain karmic irony to this, as back in the Spring I’d got all high n mighty on mi drummer, Jonny, after he’d smashed a similar pane of glass in Cagliari.

St Anthony's Church - Cabo de Rama
St Anthony’s Church – Cabo de Rama

Anyhow, the rest of the day was quite Mills n Boon & made up for my earlier nonsense. Dinesh, my landlord, had dropped off two bikes for me & Victor, & so I took m’lady out for a spin. First port of call was Kola beach, a lovely spot at the end of a terrible road, with wild waves & a freshwater lagoon to paddle in. After this we continued north to Cabo de Rama, an old Portuguese fort with splendid views of a miraculous bay, at the other side of which we observed a restaurant clinging to the cliffs.



Driving out there, we passed a mad Russian flying a three-wheeler wheelchair-paraglider, & then walking along a practically deserted beach to reach the restaurant just as the red sun was dipping below the clouds. Cue fresh fish & lovely sensations at a place called appropriately called ‘Mi Amore.’



We drove back a good hour through the night, through moody junglerie, accompanied by the constant chorus of chirping insects. Then back at Patnem we drank wine on the beach, ending a perfect day in a tired but happy glow.


The other day I took Victor on the roads for the first time (he survived) to Galgebag beach, where Sea-turtles had just lain their eggs, protected now by fencing. Theres a cluster of restaurants there, one of which comes reccomened by Gordon Ramsey, while the one next door is reccomended by Jamie Oliver. Whether this is true or not, the oysters were great & the beaches are lush…Happy Days indeed!


After m’lady departed for other shores, it seems she had left me with a revitalised mojo. First to pick up on it was a nurse from Hastings on Tuesday night. Me & Vic had got out for a few beers, playing pool in beach bars & stuff, which all led into a riotous rave at a headphone party where we had our first proper session in months. Cue some wild driving & an all night party, plus morning frolic in the waves with the aforementioned nurse.


At some point along the road Vic managed to total the front of his scooter, which I quickly sorted out the next day for him – it was only £35 to repair & we both managed to survive the seratonin surge.



Yesterday was also a classic. Three years ago I met this very well respected & successful woman in the film industry… & well, lets say we had a blast. Anyhow, lo & behold, she was led on a sunbed on my beach. Its funny, last year she was in this hotel in Scotland & invited me over – but I couldnt taint my blank canvas of a relationship, so stayed put. To which she replied something along the lines of, ‘here i am watching porn in my hotel room in the sexiest knickers you will never see.’

So she turns up at Mickey’s Bar where me & Vic were playing some rapturously recieved tunes, after which we got chatting, & I’m like, ‘do you know those knickers you mentioned in your emai?’ & she’s like, ‘I’m wearing em now…’

So this morning, all full of sun & beer & poetry, driving around South Goa listening to mi tunes, I composed this little gem of a sonnet, entitled…


To all the girls I’ve ever nailed
There’s only time I kinda failed
I had just been debirding In India
When a few fumbles after getting it together
She’s agate ‘STOP!’ but, y’know, I weren’t that bothered
Trust me, mi mojo promptly recovered
& I found that the girls were all digging mi chat
I mean… A poet from Burnley in a right dapper hat!

So… deep down I know some were better in bed
But I’ve loved every minute, girls, pathways we tread
All glittering gold thro your slipped off bikinis
In trust’s lamburghinis, up lust’s kundalinis
We surf’d the exotic… frantic… tantric… calm
All aboard mine art’s duties thy beauties to charm.


The New Office...
The New Office…

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