The Roquefort Files

the timely winding up of one band has led me to suddenly be involved in three separate projects, thus removing at a stroke any and all free time I might have enjoyed as a result. This does not in itself displease me; quite the opposite, in fact, but has nevertheless turned me into a permanently [...]

i.e, I’ve had an enjoyable but not particularly noteworthy week. Let us enumerate said fun but eminently normal events: Jez hosted a mini dinner party round at his flat. We came, we saw, we ate, and it was good. Jeff said something about sausages that almost reduced me to tears of laughter, but my long-term [...]

We picked Sally up near Opéra after a couple of restorative drinks, then negotiated the Métro to glittering Saint-Germain for another gut-busting meal in a very Jackie O al fresco café. Saint-Germain seemed to be devoted more to shopping than drinking, and so we caught the Métro back again and had a few in a [...]

on the drive to Luxembourg, and I leadfooted it along the first stretch of the autobahn. Turns out the Saab is good for 120 mph and a further traumatised Ashley, thanks to the heedless lemming drivers darting into the fast lane as we barrelled along with only ’70s brake technology to retard our progress. We [...]

We rocked up at the track around 6pm or so, and it was, to all intents and purposes, deserted. On a good day, the car park is apparently packed to the brim with exotic and otherwise mental motors, but the sole flag-bearer for the speed-merchant crowd was a be-stickered Impreza with the name “Maddog” alongside [...]

whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses* – then, I account it high time to get myself on an under-prepared, reckless road trip to foreign climes. Only this time, I did see fit to incorporate a journey to the world’s most infamous race [...]