Paul Street, E23

High on the wall, a leather cap. The kind
John Lennon liked to wear, its gloss of black
catching the bare bulb glare. This room is red,
blood red. The ceiling, white. The naked floor
stretches rough pine between cracked skirting boards.
A mobile phone, kingfisher blue, proclaims
its presence with a triad, soh mi doh,
repeated twice before I cross the room
to comfort it, holding its sleek cool

Dropout Nation - your invitation

A few like-minded bloggers and hub-authors, Paraglider among them, have set up a cooperative blog, Dropout Nation, where we are exploring alternatives to 'recovering' from the Global recession by simply clawing our way back to the mess we had before. Our principles are: Awareness, Conviviality, non-Consumerism, Pacifism and Expectation. The Paranormal hotel isn't geared up to discuss such

Three Girls to Boot

Girl singers are not all equal. And just as some have higher or sweeter voices than others, it's not uncommon to find that some are longer than others, measured from head to foot. Normally, the length of a girl singer is a minor consideration, but apparently not in Stufital's Le Club, where there appears to be a requirement for all three girls' voices to emanate from mouths at the same vertical

Yellow Bus Blues

I've often wondered if many Americans know where some of their pensioned off school buses end up? Half-way round the World in Slaka, that's where, for a new lease of life as workers' transport. They're not refurbished in any way. Many still have the school name painted on the back and sides. Some still sport the stop sign. In not a few, the upholstery is worn through to the bare plywood. Balding

Viva MacSween - Haggis in Slaka!

This is a public service announcement especially aimed at ex-pat Scots in Slaka, though others are recommended also to profit from it: Haggis may be obtained from the MegaMart behind the Ramada complex. And not just any haggis. MacSween's, the real deal. A little overpriced of course, but it's come a long way from home. So far, I've been unable to find a source of neeps (swede turnips), the

Beth Tweddle, 1 - Football, 0

Last night, a few of us were watching, with more or less attention, the World Gymnastics Championships, on the big screen in Stufital Old Manger. Beth Tweddle taking gold for Britain in the floor exercise (Go Beth!) was an added bonus. Then, perhaps at someone's request, but without asking anyone else, Mr Syria changed the channel. To football. Local football. And not even a game of football.

Which passeth all understanding

The different interpretations of Slaka's drink laws are to be marvelled at. Twelfth floor Stufital has two doorways. Through one, you may pass freely, sit down and order anything you like from the bar and the kitchen. Through the other, you may pass only after depositing your ID or passport with the doorman. Once inside, your every movement is monitored by security cameras. But you can ignore

Good, Fast, Cheap?

Some industries might be different, but in mine, the golden rule governing any project is the one we call Good-Fast-Cheap. It states simply, you can have any two out of the three, but you can't have them all. You want the best, by next Tuesday? No problem but it's going to cost you. You're on a tight budget but you need this immediately. Easy, but don't expect it to work. You need state of the

Octoberfest hits Doha

The Intercon Octoberfest was pretty good. Expensive, at 200 QAR per head. This included food and the entertainment, but no drinks. And the drinks weren't cheap, at 100 QAR for a stein (1 litre Bavarian style beer glass). Having said that, the beer was specially imported from Germany for the occasion and the food, though pork free, was varied and abundant. Being persnickety, I'd say that the band

First, dig the hole...

then fall into it. I came across this scuppered excavator in the environs of Muntazah Park this morning. Work was continuing, by pick and shovel, while the foreman and the unfortunate driver engaged in animated discussion with much spitting and waving of hands, none of which seemed likely to effect the rescue of the hapless digger. Not a lot more to say about that.
Tonight will be a change of

Cher is (still) sad

As promised, two posts ago, I checked out the Cher-is-sad last night. Not much to report. The refurb is certainly an improvement, but more of a face-lift than a reincarnation, rather like Cher herself, I suppose. It's still a place where you'd better take your own company because you'll find none there. It would help if they drew a light coloured drape across the black gaping maw of the empty

When Don Quixote met Ella Gow

The talk soon came around to dancing. His pantaloons were incongruous but, in her green drndl hand-me-down, she herself was scarcely a model of elegance. None of which seemed to matter as, seamlessly, they moved from talk to practice. Well, more of a lesson, if truth be told, as Ella, till now, had only read of the Pavane. The Don’s grace and courtly manners were matched only by her guileless

The Laughter Factory

I've never been a great fan of stand-up comedy, but with nothing else planned for last night and the sudden offer of an unwanted ticket, it seemed a good idea to check out the Laughter Factory event, a monthly occurrence in Slaka Ramada's Cher-is-sad bar. Of the three performers, one I liked, one I quite liked and one I didn't quite, which is probably par for the course. But what I couldn't help

Paraglider - Live at Stufital

Live indeed, but now over a year ago. This major event was previously described here. Shortly after this inaugural performance, Paraglider's partner in crime (against good taste), Mr G, shot off to Japan, not to return until after Stufital had stopped hosting live music and removed stage, lights, sound system and most of their customers. As it seems unlikely that a repeat performance is

Passport Regained

So, my tall, friendly Moroccan took one look at the typescript and said: right letter, wrong form. Then he said something that set him apart from the rest of Slaka officialdom: Wait here while I go to the typing pool and have it changed for you! What would have taken me another hour, took him five minutes, and after another five I was heading back to the Police Station, where they took the form