Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts

Friday, July 22, 2022

The Greatest Dinner in Soho London

 


The gangs all here: Timothy Behrens, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon, Frank Auerbach, Michael Andrews. © The John Deakin Archive

Wednesday, August 11, 2021

"Sparks-Tastic" by Tosh Berman

 


"Sparks-Tastic" is my book about Sparks, but also very much a travel journal that takes place a little bit of Paris, and a lot of London, specifically North London. You can purchase my book here: 

Saturday, July 17, 2021

Buy "Sparks-Tastic" by Tosh Berman here!

 

In 2008, Tosh Berman—author and publisher of TamTam Books—got on a plane with a single motive: Sparks Spectacular. It had been announced that the band Sparks would perform all twenty-one of their albums in a succession of twenty-one nights in London...a monumental experience for any Sparks fanatic, which Tosh certainly is. Part travel journal, part personal memoir, Berman takes us through the streets of London and Paris, observing each city's history and culture through the eye of an obsessive Sparks fan. Including album-by-album reviews of all twenty-one shows and beyond, Sparks-Tastic defines a place and time in music history that's too defining to be ignored.  

Get the book here: 

Friday, February 12, 2021

The One Album I listened to Over and Over Again in 2008

 


The year 2008 was all about Sparks. In a few moments of madness, and without money, I decided to go to London to write a book on Sparks' "21 Albums in 21 Nights" series of concerts, where on each night they would focus on a specific album. From beginning to end, and then for an encore, they would do a b-side or a rare recording from that period of time they recorded that album. Believe it or not, the purpose of these shows was to announce their new album in 2008, "Exotic Creatures Of The Deep." A record with bouncy melodies and great beauty. I had so much fun, but it was also a lot of work. What came out of this whole trip is my book "Sparks-Tastic. And I remember buying a collection of Anthony Newley recordings on CD at HMV on Oxford Street.

Tosh Berman's "Sparks-Tastic"

 

In 2008, Tosh Berman—author and publisher of TamTam Books—got on a plane with a single motive: Sparks Spectacular. It had been announced that the band Sparks would perform all twenty-one of their albums in a succession of twenty-one nights in London...a monumental experience for any Sparks fanatic, which Tosh certainly is. Part travel journal, part personal memoir, Berman takes us through the streets of London and Paris, observing each city's history and culture through the eye of an obsessive Sparks fan. Including album-by-album reviews of all twenty-one shows and beyond, Sparks-Tasticdefines a place and time in music history that's too defining to be ignored.

Friday, February 5, 2021

"Sparks-Tastic" by Tosh Berman as discussed by the author on Tosh Talks


My talk on the making and writing of my first book "Sparks-Tastic."   A book about Sparks (Ron Mael & Russell Mael) is also a memoir or travel book.  Not a Sparks biography, but a book about how I feel about their music and image.  As well as about Islington London and a bit of Paris.  I went to their 21 Nights 21 Albums series of shows in London, which changed my life.  The book reflects on that, as well as being an adventure for yours truly.  "Sparks-Tastic" is still in print, and you can purchase it at any bookstore, as well as online shops.  Tosh Berman​

Wednesday, October 23, 2019

Tosh's Journal - October 23 (Tribute to Diana Dors, and happy birthday t...




TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 23

When I was living in London in the late 1970s, I was invited to go to an “adult” party at Diana Dors’s house. I haven’t the foggiest idea what “adult” party meant in Diana’s home, but of course, I was a very curious young man at the time. I knew of her slightly, mostly that she was the British version of Jayne Mansfield, and that she made an album called “Swinging Dors,” which at the time, I never heard. Oddly enough, her arranger Wally Stott also arranged the classic Scott Walker recordings of the 1960s.

While in London at that time, I went to a pub called “The Blind Begger” on Whitechapel Road. I didn’t know at the time, but the pub is a well-known hangout for gangsters in the East London area. Ironically enough, it was also the original site that the Salvation Army started. I went in by myself to have a quiet pint of Brown Ale when a gentleman approached me by the name of Terry Denton, who started a conversation with me. He was a bit tight (drunk) but mentioned that he was going to a party at Diana Dors’s house, and he got a special invitation specifically from her. She told him that he could bring another gentleman to the house that night. Usually, I would say no, but for some odd reason, I was intrigued and decided to take up his kind invitation. I mentioned that I don’t know anyone in that world, and would it be still ok if I came with him to the party. He said, “no problem.” So off we went, and we found a taxi in the late night to take us to Berkshire, just outside of London.

Once we arrived, I was surprised regarding the house, not knowing what to expect once I got there. From the outside, it looked like a quaint, but decent sized home. Terry let himself in, and I stood behind him. He said to follow him in, and off I went into what I think was the living room. There were approximately 30 people there, with maybe more than half young girls. They all look like starlets of some sort, but I wasn’t clear if they were in the entertainment world or even women who are professionals in the party world. Terry immediately introduces me to a pair of sharp-suited gentlemen, who strongly resembled each other. One was called Ron, and the other I think, his name was Reg or something like that. Terry later told me that they are twin brothers. Eventually, I was introduced to Diana Dors herself. She was full-figured, had a beautiful face, although, at the time, she looked well-lived, if you get my drift.

She threw her arms around me and mentioned if I needed anything that I should help myself to whatever is out there. The way she said that to me, I wasn’t sure if she was talking about drinks, or what looks like drugs being passed around. Or perhaps it was the woman there! Terry took me by the arm to introduce me to a pretty brunette, whose name I can’t remember now. When I shook her hand, Terry told her that “Tosh here is an American, and he’s producing a film in London.” I gave a glance towards him, but he didn’t return the “look” to me. What I remember was her accent was strong. I could only make out every third for the fourth word from her lipsticked mouth.

Nevertheless, I was communicating with her, and Diana came from behind and took both of our hands and directed us to another room in the house. Once there, I realized we were in a bedroom, and a couple was going at it like stranded dogs in a dog park. I didn’t know what was happening… well, I did. But at the same time, I didn’t. The couple got out of the bed and went towards a full-length mirror.  He started fucking her against the mirror.

Meanwhile, my heavily accented lass took me by the side of the bed, where she sat down and started to unzip my pants. She began to serve me a service that I didn’t expect would happen three hours ago. Afterward, after we finished, I lost her in the crowd at the party and noticed another room where I can hear a film projector going. I went in, and it was Diana, Terry, and the twin brothers watching hardcore porn film. I realized that the setting of this film was the bedroom that I just left. Obviously, she had a camera hooked up and more likely filmed me at the peak of my or “our” adventure.

I found myself back in my flat, in sort of a dazed state. Terry was kind enough to organize a ride back to London with the twins. They were polite, but I felt I shouldn’t say too much in their presence. I also felt that I witnessed something that shouldn’t be repeated or reported in a public forum. So let’s leave it at that.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Monday, March 19, 2018

"How To Be A Brit" by George Mikes (illustrations by Nicolas Bentley) - (Penguin)

ISBN: 978-0-241-97500-8 Penguin

I'm attracted to the Penguin classic design book and when I saw "How To Be a Brit" at the Last Bookstore in Downtown Los Angeles, it brought back memories of me going to used bookstores in London and finding old Penguin paperbacks from the 1940s.  That it has illustrations going through the entire book is an additional plus.  I didn't buy it.  Two weeks later I saw it at a Tokyo bookstore that has an English language section, and they had a stack of this title.  For sure, the perfect book for the foreigner visiting another country.  Still, I didn't buy it.  It wasn't until I got back from Japan that I went back to The Last Bookstore, to locate this damn book. I did and went to the library to get other titles by George Mikes.

I have a fascination with books by foreigners writing about another culture. Mikes originally came from Hungary and lived in London for most of his life.   In a sense, he became more British than the British, and on top of that, he knew there is a cultural difference between the British and everyone else.   Some of the commentaries are out-of-fashion, but for me, that's not a problem.  Even the subject matter is not that important to me.  What's important is Mikes' language and his funny observations that border on being stereotyping, but that's OK. 

"How To be a Brit" is actually three short books put together.  "How to be an Alien," How to be Inimitable, and "How to be Decadent," which sadly has no Sadian touches, but more with how the every day British treat themselves. Nicolas Bentley's illustrations throughout the book are charming, funny, and a reminder of Robert Benchley's world.  In fact, there are traces of Benchley in Mikes' work.  Both are the absurd humorists commenting on the everyday life of... well, people. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Sunday, February 28, 2016

"Beautiful Idiots and Brilliant lunatics" by Rob Baker

ISBN: 978-1-4456-5119-4 Amberley Books
"Beautiful Idiots and Brilliant Lunatics: A Sideway Look at Twentieth-Century London" by Rob Baker

For me, a city is something of brilliance.  I never cared for nature or the world outside of a city.  What I love is neon lights, people walking from there to here, cars, public transportation, and various cafes and restaurants.   Each city has a definite identity.  My favorite cities are Los Angeles, Paris, Tokyo, and the subject matter of this book "Beautiful Idiots and Brilliant Lunatics," London.  It is odd when I walk around London, I'm consistently looking for something from the past.   My main interest is London in the 19th and 20th century - and I have a pretty good collection of books on that subject.  My favorite, I think is this book.  It captures the mystery, the eccentricity, and life flowing through its streets.

The book covers everything from Mary Quant to woman nazis to Christine Keeler to underground gay culture.  Rob Baker has the eye of a historian, but the heart of a poet - and he takes the reader down various pathways to a world that is very much London, but also going against the grain as well.  

This superb book is based on Baker's incredible website "Another Nickel in the Machine."  I discovered this site by accident, and like any good accident, it led me to other worlds that are within London.   His amazing collection of photographs is reason enough to visit the site, but now he made a book, and it is equally great.

For those who love London, this book is a must, but even those who never been to that part of the world, yet find the urban world of great interest, will need to own and read "Beautiful Idiots."  

- Tosh Berman

Sunday, January 24, 2016

"The Final Programme" by Michael Moorcock

Published by Allison & Busby, 1965

"The Final Programme"  by Michael Moorcock (Allison & Busby)

A Jerry Cornelius novel!   The first in the series.  Perhaps even a British comic strip as well as a film.  No, I never heard of the series, or of Jerry Cornelius, till very recently.  Written by the noted science fiction author Michael Moorcock, this novel reminds me very much of the works by Terry Southern.  They both share an anti-everything approach to life, as well as being very much part of the 1960s culture.   In fact, "The Final Programme" could have 'only' have been written in the 60s.   This 1965 novel is very much a snapshot of its time and has a strong sense of placement, which is London.  

Cornelius is an assassin, that resembles a secret agent, and if he lived in a real life or of course in a fantasy world, he would have known about Barbarella.   He lives in Notting Hill London, and has various transportation machines - boats, cars, etc. In this novel, he battles his brother Frank, and eventually, and of course, things happen.  The main villain is a certain Miss Brunner, and ....  Well, you have to read the novel. 

The book is very dated. Yet that is part of the charm of reading it in 2016.   Here, you get a perspective of Swinging London circa 1965, as well as perhaps an early image of a David Bowie - a character that perhaps Moorcock had a hand in.   For those who love Emma Peel, John Steed, The Prisoner, and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. - this is the novel for you.  

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Tosh Berman at Los Angeles Times Festival of Books

Rare Bird, my publisher, was kind enough to invite me to sign  my book "Sparks-Tastic" at the Los Angeles  Times Festival of Books this coming Saturday April 18 at 10:30 AM.   Early, yes, but also the best time to visit the book festival before it gets too sunny and hot. 

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

December 30, 2014



December 30, 2014

I have a series of role-models that I use, just to get myself out of bed every morning.  In fact, I have a closet full of role-models, because when you get down to it, it’s the clothing that makes the man, even if you are a bad dresser, it is the window to your soul.  Not the eyes.   When I was 33 years old, I received some money and resolved to spend every last drop of it on a trip to Europe.  I went with my friend Kimley, who I worked with at the Licorice Pizza store in West Los Angeles.   It was the first time that I did something so adult-like.  But now I remember the real reason why I went to Europe was to see a girl there that I had a brief affair with in Los Angeles.  I just wanted to continue the affair, but not here in Los Angeles, but in London, where she now lived.  One would say it was an act of love or passion, but the truth is I needed to remove myself from where I lived, so I can change, and change was the genuine passion for the trip.   Making love to her was just a side-dish.  I was curious about having a sex life in London, and would it be like anything in Los Angeles?   Ironically enough, I didn’t have sex at all while I was in London or in Europe - I mostly wandered around in various cold landscapes trying to find myself in a new light.

The role-model for this specific trip was Paul Bowles, a writer that I greatly admire.  To be the point, the one thing that impressed me the most about him was hearing that he traveled with many, many suitcases.  So I decided to not only bring two or three suits, including ties, and a hat to come with each suit, but also a mini-version of my library.  I remember choosing Frank Sinatra recordings as well to put in my portable cassette player.  Kimley also had her version of the cassette player with her music - so we had a he and she music thing going.  Memory is that she had Alex Chilton cassettes - both solo as well as with Big Star - and besides my Sinatra, I think I had Les Rita Mitsouko as well.   



The plan we made was to go to London first, and that was basically the whole plan for the trip.  We bought one-way tickets to London, with not the slightest idea when or if we will return to Los Angeles.  We both quit our jobs in the last day, and I remember leaving a note to my manager at the store saying the “next time you will see me, I’ll be a girl.” I haven’t the foggiest idea why I wrote that, but I wanted to do something dramatic and important-like.  

We went to London, and we stayed with the girl that I had the affair with.  It seemed on her part, that the affair was over, finished, and mostly forgotten by her.   That was a shock to my system.  Luckily I chose the Sinatra soundtrack for this trip, so it wasn’t a total disaster.  But I did discover London as an adult, and that was a real eye-opener for me.  For my whole life, I worshipped London as the cultural landscape to end all cultural landscapes.  But once I got there, I found it very cold, and there seemed to be a depression added to the cityscape.   To this day, I don’t know if it was me, or the city itself.   I think London recognized a poor soul, and tried its best to welcome me to the British world.   I think we stayed in London for three weeks, before proceeding to Paris.



I never been to Paris before, and it was even a bigger fantasy land to me than even London.  Everything I thought I would love about Paris, was truly there in front of me.   I think we stayed for three weeks, and then decided to take a train to Rome.   Rome only meant two things to me: Fellini and Pasolini - and that was it.   I remember we took a train and we traveled with a French grandmother and her grandchild.  They were eating cheese and bread, and were incredibly polite and quiet.  I took a nap on the train and woke up with an Italian grandmother and her Italian grandchild.  She was screaming at him, and he was crying and hitting her over her entire body.  At the same time, the grandmother was trying to cut pieces of dry salami for the child.  I had to walk out of the cabin with Kimley, and we both discovered that we were surrounded by Italians.  We were not in France anymore that’s for sure.  



When we arrived in Rome, a young good looking man immediately took our suitcases and told us to keep pace with him.  We didn’t think twice if it was alright or not, in fact, I thought it was a Paul Bowles type of thing.  So of course we followed him.  He took us to a hotel that had marbled floors, but no bathroom.  I remember I had to piss, so I pissed in the sink by the side of my bed.   I found Rome to be more Pasolini than Fellini, and I was profoundly impressed with the Roman police, because of the way they were dressed.  The motorcycle cops had knee length leather boots, and carried small machine guns.  Their helmets were beautifully designed and I loved how they look.  In fact, the entire police force was good looking.  Some even had a feather in their cap.   I never come upon dandy cops before in my life.   From Rome we went to Florence, which seemed like the perfect Italian city - I remember hearing the Style Council in all the pizza joints as well as the fine restaurants.  We went to Venice, but only for a day.  We were thinking of staying over night, but the hotels were either crowded or very expensive.  Also the city was too beautiful for me.  Ironically enough, at the time, there were posters and banners all over Venice, for an upcoming retrospective Futurism exhibition.  The irony being that the Futurists wanted to pave Venice with cement.  Now, Venice is still there (or barely) and Futurism is something out of the past. 

From Florence, we went to Munich Germany.  The first thing I saw when I left the train was a German with a Hitler moustache and wearing leather shorts.   And beer.  It seems Munich was very much drunk on beer.   We went to a beer garden, and ordered beer.  The beer came in huge glasses, that seemed obscene to me at the time.  Nevertheless I drank the whole glass, and not exactly did I become intoxicated, but really full.   The third surprise was the food that they served at our hotel.   For breakfast, we had cold luncheon meats and soft -boiled eggs.   It was pretty disgusting.   My thoughts on Munich were that it was downtown ancient German culture.   Also it was very clean.   The people and the streets were both immaculate.   From there, we went to Hamburg, because the Beatles went to Hamburg.  Also my grandmother was from Hamburg as well.   This port town was very impressive to me, because we went to another beer garden and someone threw a glass of beer over our heads and it smashed against the wall.   I didn’t know if this was the usual Hamburg greeting for visitors, but I tipped my hat towards their aim.  Also Hamburg was very sexy, due that both men and women wore leather pants. It was like the whole city was either pre-beatle Hamburg look or more likely Jim Morrison fanatics.   We then went to West Berlin, which at the time, appeared to be in the middle of East Germany.  I remember being on the train and German police came on with German Sheperds to check out our passports. 



Once we arrived in Berlin, it felt like Los Angeles to me.  The cops there wore short-sleeved shirts, and seemed to be more casual.   Also the streets were wide, and unlike the streets of Europe.   One thing that stays in my mind was going to a bookstore and that store having a gigantic display of Herman Hesse books.  It seemed that they re-issued the books with all Andy Warhol covers.  At the time, I thought it was a weird mixture of having Warhol doing the Hesse covers, but then again, perhaps it is him going back to his roots as a graphic designer for book and album covers.   Also we visited a large record store, and I was amazed to see all the vinyl albums were unwrapped - in the words they weren’t shrink-wrapped like they are in the States.   It’s the little things that make the big impressions while one travels.

After being in Berlin for a while, we went back to Paris and stayed there I think for three or four more weeks, and then back to London to fly back home.  We intended to stay forever, but we both ran out of money.   To this day, I don’t really plan ahead, the only reason I leave a place is either out of boredom or the money ran out.   But I did wear a suit everyday on our tour of Europe.   A year later I got some more money and went back to Europe again - this time alone.   Yet, I was still in a Paul Bowles mood.  I will be for the rest of my life. 


Tuesday, October 28, 2014

October 28, 2014



October 28, 2014

Before I start writing I have a slightly ambiguous feeling: happiness is a special excitement because unhappiness is always possible a moment later.” I pick up the pen, knowing I’m going to go down in that rabbit’s hole and god knows how I’ll get out of here.  Dead.   I’ll open my eyes and find myself in Soho London, and I’m sitting in a private member’s drinking club called “The Colony Room, ” not far from Francis Bacon’s table.  I have always been fearful about approaching his table, because that gentleman has a tongue.  A tongue that can strip the varnish off my soul, and therefore I would stand there naked.  Within seconds, he will know that I’m a fraud.   Most people I know would take a lifetime to sniff out my charlatan soul - but Francis, can smell deceit as if he was dining in a Bank of America board meeting.  Here in The Colony Room, I for sure stand out, compared to the regular clientele.  



The music they play here is mostly The Shadows, and I for one, always enjoy a good foot-tapper without hearing someone singing.  I briefly met Hank Marvin (the lead guitarist for The Shadows) here, and it seems he was friendly with Francis, but then again, a lot of people were… except me.  I'm a member of this drinking club, due not to money, but influence.  I bring customers who will eventually become long-term (financial) members of this club.  That, and that alone is the only reason why Francis Bacon will tolerate me.  As a favor to the master of the club, Muriel Belcher, Bacon kept his claws off my flesh and ego - but I can see through his eyes, to his very soul, that he would like to insult me in public.  I wear my vulnerability as one wears a coat in the winter season.  I don’t want to take it off for fear of being criticised by the master.  



Another lad who comes by here is Wayne Fontana, who had a band called The Mindbenders, and they had a hit “Game of Love.” Of all the citizens who land here, Wayne is the one I can chat with, and not being worried about my self.   Perhaps because he was even lower than me, in Bacon’s eyes.  Wayne tends to a nut job.  He once filed bankruptcy and somehow got himself arrested for pouring gasoline in a bailiff’s car, while the bailiff was still in his vehicle.  He had to serve some time in a nuthouse, but now it seems everything is OK.   Wayne is a reader, and he is aware of my books - especially the one I wrote on Sparks.   I think he is very interested in the thought that maybe I would be willing to write a book about him and his music career.  Which is so far from my interest at this point, but I never told him that.  I find it best that when one wants something from you, your duty is to be able to delay it as long as possible.  The best technique is not to say no, and allow a strong “maybe.” That way, they won’t give up on you, thinking you will come through in some fashion.  He just released a record, as single I think, called “Pamela Pamela.” I don’t like it. In fact no one in the club here likes it.  But I just acknowledge that he has that record, and I never comment on it. 



“Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” I travel these parts of Soho, well, mostly at The Colony Room, and I know I need to keep my own time, my own world, and not claim this world for myself, because it is really not mine.  “If you asked me who I am, the only answer I could give with any certainty would be my name.  For the rest: my loves, my hates, down even to my deepest desires, I can no longer say whether these emotions are my own, or stolen from those I once so desperately wished to be. ”




At that minute I looked around the bar, and I caught Francis’ eyes, and he looks at me with no thought or emotion behind it.  I knew at that point that this will be the last time that I’ll be here in the club.  So I headed for the stairs, and before I went down, I did a quick look around, and thought to myself “Goodbye.” 



Thursday, October 23, 2014

October 23, 2014




October 23, 2014

When I was living in London in the late 1970s, I was invited to go to an “adult” party at Diana Dors house.  I haven’t the foggiest idea what “adult” party meant in Diana’s house, but of course, I was a very curious young man at the time.  I knew of her slightly, mostly that she was the British version of Jayne Mansfield, and that she made an album called “Swinging Dors, ” which at the time, I never heard.  Oddly enough, her arranger Wally Stott, also arranged the classic Scott Walker recordings of the 1960s.



While in London at that time, I went to a pub called “The Blind Begger” on Whitechappel Road. I didn’t know at the time, but the pub is a well known hangout for gangsters in the East London area. Ironically enough, it was also the original site which the Salvation Army started.   I went in by myself to have a quiet pint of Brown Ale, when I was approached by a gentleman by the name of Terry Denton, who started a conversation with me.  He was a bit tight (drunk) but mentioned that he was going to a party at Diana Dors house and he got a special invitation specifically from her.  He was told by her that he could bring another gentleman to the house that night.  Normally I would say no, but for some odd reason I was intrigued, and decided to take up his kind invitation.  I mentioned that I don’t know anyone in that world, and would it be still ok if I came with him to the party.  He said “no problem.” So off we went, and we found a taxi in the late night to take us to Berkshire, just outside of London.  



Once we arrived, I was surprised regarding the house, not knowing what to expect once I got there. From the outside, it looked like a quaint, but decent sized home.  Terry let himself in and I stood behind him.  He said to follow him in, and off I went into what I think was the living room.  There were approximately 30 people there, with maybe more than half, young girls.  They all look like starlets of some sort, but I wasn’t clear if they were in the entertainment world, or even woman who are professionals in the party world.  Terry immediately introduces me to a pair of sharp suited gentlemen, who strongly resembled each other.  One was called Ron, and the other I think, his name was Reg, or something like that.  I was later told by Terry that they are twin brothers.  Eventually I was introduced to Diana Dors herself. She was full-figured, had a beautiful face, although at the time, she looked well-lived, if you get my drift.



She threw her arms around me, and mentioned if I needed anything that I should help myself to whatever is out there.  The way she said that to me, I wasn’t sure if she was talking about drinks, or what look like drugs being passed around.  Or perhaps it was the woman there!   Terry took me by the arm to introduce me to a pretty brunette, whose name I can’t remember now.   When I shook her hand, Terry told her that “Tosh here is an American and he’s producing a film in London.” I gave a glance towards him, but he didn’t return the “look” back to me.  What I remember was her accent was really strong.  I could only make out every third for the fourth word from her lipsticked mouth.



Nevertheless I was really communicating with her, and Diana came from behind, and took both of our hands, and directed us to another room in the house.  Once there, I realized we were in a bedroom and there was a couple going at it like stranded dogs in a dog park.  I didn’t know what was happening… well I did.  But at the same time I didn’t. The couple got out of the bed, and went towards a full length mirror and he started fucking her against the mirror.   Meanwhile, my heavily accented lass took me by the side of the bed, where she sat down and started to unzip my pants.  She began to serve me a service, that I didn’t expect would happen three hours ago.  Afterwards after we finished, I lost her in the crowd at the party, and noticed another room where I can hear a film projector going. I went in, and it was Diana, Terry, and the twin brothers watching hard core porn film.  I realized that the setting of this film was the bedroom that I just left.  Obviously she had a camera hooked up, and more likely filmed me at the peak of my or “our” adventure.



I found myself back in my flat, in sort of a dazed state.  Terry was kind enough to organize a ride back to London with the twins.  They were polite, but I felt I shouldn’t say too much in their presence.  I also felt that I witnessed something that shouldn’t be repeated or reported in a public forum.   So let’s leave it at that.