I'm feeling well rough after my trip to iceland. Stuffed up with cold. Will update fully when I'm feeling less sorry for myself and I've got all my photo's online. There are some awesome one's of bands. Got a couple of celeb stories as well, pretty rubbish really and not particularly rock and roll, but vaguely amusing.
One thing I have noticed is despite using the hotel gym every day for a week, and having gone on two freezing 5 mile runs in Rejkyavik I've actually put on weight.
The thing about me is there is a fine balance between vanity and self indulgence and I haven't quite mastered how to look good and trough like a warthog.
I like to keep fit, I like to keep trim, and this is extremely important to my self esteem. But I also like to gorge myself like the emperor Heliogabalus and drink vats of wine and beer whilst watching my guests perish from my balcony. (When I release the savage beasts into the orgy whilst I'm gnawing on a live swan with 26 deep fried doormice stuffed in its rectum.)
Why oh why can't I look good and drink/eat what I want! There are three options.
1. Give up on keeping fit, but I'm worried I'll turn into a fat buffoon like Christopher Biggins or Russell Grant as opposed to a cool fat guy like George Melly. Too much of a risk....
2. Shun the hedonism, and become a full blown superhero. When I'm ready I'll buy one of those pervy all in one lycra costumes available on ebay made by a chinaman and then defeat the local chav crime syndicate crushing all 14 year olds who want some. (I wouldn't be able to slap down any older kids)
3. Carry on as is, and ruminate on what might have been.