Get out of London!

We’ve finished the first leg of the tour around the UK. The shows went well but the schedule was exhausting – there was no down time at all. I can’t remember van tours being this tiring before, (maybe it’s an age thing!) but that we haven’t had a day off in over a week and have often been doing shows and multiple radio shows and promo etc, every day has proven a little too much. Everyone looks completely shagged.

Our tour bus arrived tonight which means I won’t be driving any more. I didn’t mind the driving as much as I didn’t like the navigating city centres with a pony map and looking for somewhere to park for an hour or so each night. Bombing along the M1 at 90mph is fine—although it was better before my ipod died. Still, now I have a new nest in the tour bus – slightly smaller than the ones we had in America but it does have a window, which is really good--it’s like a little porthole. I’m in one of the front bunks above the driver so it’s close to being a suicide bunk. But it is one of the quietest, which, as anyone who’s spent any time on a tour bus will attest, is one of the most important things—early death notwithstanding. I’ve already filled it with my gadgets – if I could concentrate for longer than the length of time it takes to type up a day-sheet I’d add some books to the mix but I’m simple of mind on this tour already and can't form full sentences today so book learning is out of the window.


We took a cross channel ferry to
Calais (This is the view from the skylight at the back of the bus as we boarded. The glamour of a ferry terminal... actually, geek that I am, I like places like this--all sodium lights and freight vehicles). This was the 4:30am sailing. Stayed awake for the ride and we docked at 6:50AM . I liked the ferry ride – the English Channel (Q: How did we get naming rights to it?) was black and I could see other boats out there heading to and from the North Sea. It felt isolated and almost secret in the way that late-night travel can feel. Boats are a good way to travel--they’re very tangible. There’s a romance to sea travel. For a time I had the south coast of England to myself with just the dark waves for company. I have to say I couldn’t understand why there was a harpoon on the ferry. That must be why one never sees any whales in the English Channel.


I slept until Amsterdam, which was a relief. I have a night off tonight and as long as I avoid all the peasants (thank god none of my party are gagging to mong' themselves out…) celebrating their bohemian tendencies by smoking themselves insensate then I’m looking forward to a night off here and going to dinner. I like Amsterdam except for all the plebs. Maybe if I get bored I can let off a little steam pushing drunks into the canals…?

A chap has got to have some fun, right?



On the MacPod tonight.
Thieves – Unworthy
Pulp – Common People
Cat Power – Where is my Love? / Love and Communication
Placebo – Special K
Neko Case – Hold On, Hold On
The Cure – Why Can’t I Be You?

Heading Home:


On the drive into Scotland one sees road signs that say: Carlisle & Scotland. On the drive back south one doesn't see signs that say: Carlisle & England. I can't think why--unless the English think you're already in England and it's redundant to singpost it? I would imagine the Scot's would welcome the opportunity to higlight the border one more time....



We left Glasgow and its paltry Pagan Winter Lights ( I guess the Scottish aren't too superstitious about the dark, judging by this meagre display) to spend a night in Carlisle en route to Nottingham. We stayed in a well-hidden hotel in the centre of town that reminded everyone of England Circa 1941 when they woke in the morning and the sun was shining on the market square. It did have a market town feel to it - and we were staying in the main square, the kind of place where everyone would have got together for a good hanging a couple of hundred years ago.





However, biggest surprise for me was how much they'd pimped out the market square for the pagan light festival (Hard to see here in daylight). They had the three wise men with faces so scary you'd never let them in to see a baby, especially if one of them was carrying some death oil. And the rest of the square was similarly decked-out. I guess Carlisle people like to ward of the darkness. They also had an Ann Summers store on the market square so I guess we can all deduce from that that people in Carlisle like christmas time and are always at it in saucy underwear.....to be fair to them though, there didn't seem to be much else to do there, not now we've stopped hanging people anyways.


We drove past Newcastle and passed the Angel of The North, a giant steel (?) sculpture next to the A1 that you can see for miles and that gave me the willies a bit like a giant Wicker Man might.



When we got to Nottingham I was cheered to see that the ghost of Christmas Future (for me anyway) Steven Seagal is playing at Rock City in Nottingham in February. I'm tempted to fly back to see this show. Really. And that scares me now that I've said it because I might.




After the show during load out I collided with an inch thick piece of plywood that some spazzy roadie made ages ago for Steve in Albert's band (f***king thing weighs a ton and could be used as a roll-on / roll-off car ferry if need be). Net result was that I saw stars and nearly threw up while Brian, who was carrying the pedal board felt dreadful with guilt. It was a silly accident and apparently my head made a good noise when we collided-i really can't remember as I was on my hands and knees trying not to cry. However, 20 minutes later once the drugs had kicked in (and I never knew so many people on this tour were carrying painkillers....I was impressed) I was entertained by how big the bump got. It turned into a real cartoon bump. I could have done without having to drive back to London but it wasn't so bad until someone put on the hippy music and the bump started throbbing in protest.

Here's Brian being wracked with guilt.




Anyway, three hours to sleep in now before tomorrow's promo begins. Last night in a hotel for 48 hours too so I should make use of a bed that doesn't shake.

Not that a shaking bed is a bad thing. Don't put words into my mouth.

My Night With The Pussycat Dolls:

Our Glasgow hotel was across the street from the S.E.C.C. (I think I’ve put on shows there in the past, but it’s a bad sign when you can’t remember the venues from outside. I‘d know if I went backstage…). When we got back from the radio station where the band had been recording a session we ran into the crowd for the Pussycat Dolls as they were leaving the S.E.C.C. (we asked some kids holding poster who’d they’d been to see – which in itself is a bit creepy—40 year-old men cruising teenage girls outside a gig in their big white van with blacked-out windows…). Giddy on the news we were only a few hundred yards from the Dolls we all started singing Don’t Cha’. Everyone knew the lyric (respect to Cee-Lo, even though my friend says he was a bit of a dick when she met him checking into a European hotel once). I took a guess at what hotel they’d be in but in the end we decided against going around to hang out in the bar (this wasn’t a unanimous decision, btw). Aside from the fact that an unkind judge might label this as ‘incredibly f***king sad behaviour’ there’s also the matter of who needs more restraining orders? One or two my be considered fashionable—even rakishly becoming in a certain light--but when you’ve got more than a couple then I don’t think girls like it so much…no matter how much explaining you do about what a mix-up it was and how you weren’t sleeping outside her house in a car all week with a camera and some rope. Anyway, I digress.



Our hotel is in a dead part of town on the river. I quite like it, for all its deadness. There is some interesting architecture around, new buildings mixed with remnants from the city’s history. The giant crane above was next to our hotel and was no longer in service. They did right to leave it where it was - it looked great. Apparently the shipbuilding yards were bombed heavily in WWII and along rows of nearby tenement’s you can see where a building was destroyed by bombs and a newer one erected in its place in the middle of a row. I like the gritty, pragmatic parts of cities. Tangentially, I also realized yesterday how much I like Motorway Service Stations. They’re like little oases on the road. I saw a couple yesterday nestled into woods at the side of the M6 / M74. And while intellectually I know they sell the same crap as each other, part of me can’t help thinking they’re like little local grottos where you might find something cool and unique; even at Toddington or Leicester Forest East.

Okay, now you’re looking at me strangely…

The Scottish Play:


I’ve got a cold. I think I got it in that damp, stinky club in Leeds. Did I mention the dressing rooms reeked of damp paint fumes? Class. It’s just about to take me out for a day or so – I can tell. I’m cranky, runny nosed, very tired…actually apart from the runny nose that’s pretty much business as usual for me.

After the Leeds show we drove to Sheffield for the night. Our hotel overlooked the Wicker and the Holiday Inn. This is the river Jarvis sang about in the Wickerman. Because of my friends in the city I have an affection for Sheffield and always like being here, even when the view is less than stellar. Brian, our guitar tech’, was telling me about the time he slept in the bar of this Holiday Inn after a session on a Wet Wet Wet tour. I used to work for Pulp. When Pulp played Top of the Pops (1994?) and Wet Wet Wet had been Number 1 for about three years with Love Is All Around Jarvis hid a sign in his coat that he flashed to the camera. It said I HATE WET WET WET and went out live. I’d completely forgotten about that until now. Happy Days.




Yesterday we drove across the moors to Manchester. Amazing bleak countryside that this photo, taken while I was driving along at 70mph doesn't really do it justice. Manchester was a good show but the thing that cheered me up the most was seeing The Holy Name Church opposite the venue. I may be mistaken (there might be several Churches so named in Manchester) but it made me think this was the Church named in The Smith’s Vicar in a Tutu. (“I was minding my business, lifting some lead off the roof of the Holy Name Church. It was worthwhile living a laughable life, to set my eyes on the blistering sight, of a Vicar in a tutu….”). It’s the little things that make me happy.





My I-pod died today. It just stopped working. It’s about 2 1/2 years old so I suppose the little fucker was due (my last one lasted about the same amount of time). Apple must be building them with some kind of spacc’ed out power supply so that they die sooner rather than later. Fortunately at home in New York I’d just backed everything up onto a hard drive via Ipod Rip so I’m a very happy boy – not counting the fact I’ve got another 3 weeks to go without and Ipod. Oh, God. I’ll have to talk to people. Oh sweet Jesus, please: make it stop…..

We drove through the border country today between England and Scotland. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the country. The mountains were covered with black clouds, heavy with rain. The sun stayed at 45 degrees all day (it rarely gets higher in the winter here). This meant the light was clear and sharp if not very warm. The contrast was never better seen than when a flock of about thirty birds swooped and dived in a circle. One minute their dark backs were almost lost against the black clouds, the next minute their silver underbellies glinted like new blades in the sunlight before they wheeled around again. The mountains were covered in patchy brown gorse and autumnal heather, the grass was a vivid green. It was breathtaking. It made me want to move here to write and get healthy in the fresh air.

We passed Penrith. This was the setting for Withnail and I, one of the best British Movies ever made, ever. If you haven’t seen it go buy a copy on DVD. Then watch it, and try not to quote it all the time. I wanted to stop off and go to the tea-rooms, but we didn’t have time. In fact, I was going to buy them and fire everyone....

In Glasgow we all got bought fish and chips from a place called McMonagle’s in Clydebank. It was without a shadow of a doubt the best Fish and Chips I’ve had since I was a boy on holiday in Devon. Outstanding. It’s hard to get good stuff like that now as production of almost all fast food is so homogenized and has little to do with quality. Did I ever mention the McLibel trial and the documentary about the two people ( a postman and a gardener) who wouldn't apologise to McDonalds for saying their food is crap, btw? That’s another good movie – albeit a documentary. McLibel. I hate McDonalds and that f***ing clown with a vengance. This story made me realise what an insidious influence they really are.

See? Cranky.....

Tonight is off (we got back from the radio at 11PM so some night off). I’m staying in to feel tired and coldy and to get some sleep. Don’t let anyone tell you we’re not living the dream.

It's Grim Up North:


Or wet, at the very least. We're in Leeds, Yorkshire today. I haven't been here in maybe a decade so I'm enjoying the visit. I'm much more of a tourist than I'd like to admit; while everything feels English and familiar I'm also thinking that everyone's accents sound quaint - someone called me "me flower" in a shop today - and isn't it funny that people go out of an evening in the freezing rain without coats? Then again, I used to do the same thing 20 years ago ( mainly because I was skint and didn't want to waste a quid on the cloakroom in a club - not when I could be spending it on lager or cider & black instead). I've got all fancy pants now and I'd get too cold waiting in line for a club even if I were wearing my Brooks Bros. overcoat. Actaully, I'd never wait in line for a club. Not even if the baby jesus was onstage and there was a drink special on snakebite and black.

These are the Christmas lights in Leeds. I like Xmas lights, they make me hopeful that I'll have an xmas worthy of a Wham! video--although I should have learnt by now. There's something primitive about having light fesitvals in the winter, I think. I heard So Here It Is Merry Xmas by Slade today in Leeds Market for the first time this season. I miss hearing that in the USA. It made me feel festive.




On to something grumbly: What's happened to the telly in the UK? When I moved to the USA I remember thinking that British telly was so much better than US telly. I don't know that it's true anymore. With the exception of the occasional show like Vincent, Wire In The Blood and the like, most of the shows are wank over here now. There's even a naff thing late at night on ITV that's like a call in quiz show and that looks like a cheap commercial all the way through. Absolute bollocks. What happened? Was it always so crap and I just didn't notice or has it changed now that there's 24 hour broadcasting as standard everywhere and they have to fill up the time with some guff or other? It's hard to find something to watch. (Unlesss one's bought $200 of DVDs, that is....)

One thing I had forgotten was the level of public drunkeness in provincial England of a night. The streets are busy with drunks coming home & shouting on the way. You don't hear this so much in New York (at least not where I live, I suppose) nor in London (except in Leicester Square at 11PM). Going out to get wankered with the getting wankered as important a part of the evening as maybe enjoying a gig, show, dance or whatever. I think it's a very English attitude to having fun - like we have to gorge ourselves on it when its available for some reason; there's less urbane sipping of red wine at dinner than there is guzzling lager until one's swearing at roadsigns and throwing up in a taxi. It's in me too, to this day, although I don't drink anymore--partly for that reason. I think some Europeans are similar, but the British are world-leaders. It's a strange way of going about things - trying to numb oneself whenever possible. I wonder if its a throwback to feeling a kind of institutuionalised powerlessness from the good old days (Before the 1970's recession) when the poor and working class laboured in factories and mills and when vacations were the whitsun bankholiday weekend charabang to North Wales or Skegness? (I can't speak to posho' drunkeness as I work for a living, just like me mum and dad). Or maybe it's just a symptom of a buried rage that the British carry around inside after centuries of emotional stoicism.



I went to the hardware store in Leeds to buy some tools to use to hang our new backdrop. The hardware store was in a deserted old market in Leeds. Inside the market there is a Stamp Collectors store. It was empty too, apart from the proprieter. But there was something great about the empty market with its anachronistic stores; I like that about places in the provinces (anywhere). And of course I'm being condescending as I don't live in a small provincial town anymore and can enjoy the (apparent) lack of facilities. When I did live in a small town my skin itched in frustration thinking that life was going on elsewhere. I was sure that all the good things in life, all the golden opportunities, all the fun bypassed my home town on the M1 and the M5. Anyway, I hope Mr. Studley has a good weekend selling all the stamps he needs to and gets to have all the fun he can eat.


On a chipper note I've been feasting on the following - all are worthy of your attention.

Joan Didion - Play It As It Lays - genius writing - perfect style. LA in a book. What I'd give to do one thing half as good as this ever.
Jarvis - Fat Children. Jarv', innit? It's Hugo Boss.
David Essex - Rock On
Reeves and Mortimer - DVD Complete Series. Classic English Comedy and probably an aquired taste...
The Mighty Boosh - I've just got the Live version of the show which is like the TV show but as Panto. Again, classic English comedy. Probably best to start off with the TV series. I want to hang out with Vince and Howard.
Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want / Vicar In A Tutu / Frankly Mr Shankly - The Smiths
When The Sun Goes Down - Artic Monkeys
Vetiver - I Know No Pardon / Leonard Cohen - Famous Blue Raincoat
David Bowie - Stay

London in the Wintertime.


Sunny, damp and chilly and London looks amazing. We landed, checked-in, then went straight to work. For the first time ever I'm not buying books and CD's before I do anything else. That will come though, I'm sure of it.

Went to Sunday Lunch in Borough Market at a boss restuarant called Roast, who, not surprisingly, serve Roast Dinners. It's been a long time since I've had a proper Sunday dinner. Roast beef, yorkshire pudding--the full monty. Class. South of the water is turning into my new favourite area of London now what with the Tate Modern, Borough Market, Bermondsey Street..the band were rehearsing down there so this makes it my second trip to London where I've mostly hung out in London Bridge / Borough. I'll be wearing a pearl covered jacket next, me old cocksparra'...

We (read: I) picked-up a van to carry the band and the gear around in. I haven't driven around in London like for a long long time. It's good fun and I can remember all the routes across town (mostly), but parking is a chore. Even on my old steeet in Kentish Town - which used to be a great sneaky spot for parking splitter vans - is now all permit only parking. Everywhere is, in fact; which made me realise I've been gone for ten years. Coincidentally, it took nearly 10 years to find parking only to have to move the van again after 2 hours. Why do people drive in London again? I know the tube is crap but driving, luv a duck - what a bleedin' palaver...

The Christmas Lights are up and on along Oxford Street and Regent Street; the city looks exciting and festive. It's one of my favourite times of year in Europe because it looks like Christmas. I managed to drop into HMV and came out in a daze with $200 worth of DVDs--some Chinese movies, and some old British TV shows (The Edge of Darkness, Top of the Pops compilation feat. Slade, T-Rex, The Jam, Ian Dury amongst others. The Jam look so young doing Down In the Tube Station At Midnight, and their miming sucks but it's great to see old performances like that.) I got some old episodes of Reeves and Mortimer and I'd forgotten how funny they are, and how English and original. I'm looking forward to checking out the Mighty Boosh Live DVD my friend gave me for my birthday. I'm glad to be back where people can make me belly-laugh.

Still, we go to Birmingham tomorrow so it could all change....c'mon luvver.

All the Turkey you can eat...

This is the Asian shore of Istanbul, a place called Uskudar. It was noticably poorer-looking than the new city or the old town but it was very busy with people going to sit on the waterfront to look across the river looking towards Europe.



We were there during the last three days of Ramadan, and everyone was out on the streets celebrating. In Uskudar some street vendors had floated some balloons on the river and were charging to let people (mainly young boys) shoot at the balloons with pellet guns. I don't know what the prizes were but to be honest, after firing a gun myself in Hawaii, i don't think winning a teddy bear as a prize is the motivating factor here...



At the mouth of the Bosphorous there was an endless line of ships waiting to navigate the river or collect their cargo. I have a thing about boats, and seeing so many huge tankers (not that this photo does them so much justice) made my simple heart glad. I am similarly amused by bubble wrap.



We went to see a performance of the Whirling Dervishes. It's more like a folk-dance display now in an exhibition hall at the station, but nonetheless the music was hypnotic and so was the dance. Originally the Dervishes spun and spun to put themselves in a state of religious ecstasy, one hand face up towards God, one facing down to earth so they could channel the love. They refer to themselves as the Lovers because of their devotion to God.



Spices in the Egyptian Spice Market. There was an awful amount of crap on sale too but the spices and Lokum (Turkish Delight) looked amazing. However the Turkish Delight does tend to mess up your stomach if you eat too much. Say if you maybe buy some to take home but gorge on it in your hotel room while you're reading of an evening and finish the lot in one sitting. Then it doesn't sit well at all. So I'm told.





And of course, Turkish Viagra. A walnut stuck inside a fig. I couldn't tell if it was a metaphor or not....

Northern Europe:

Back in Blighty I spent a weekend catching up with friends. Living overseas makes me miss everyone so much. On this visit I got to go to the Tate Modern for the first time ever and saw some great pieces, my favourite being the Fischli and Weiss exhibit. Mad Swiss artists. The film of the Bear and the Rat is genius. The Tate Modern is such a good building too. When I left London a decade agothis part of the City was a dead area; it made me happy to see the City develop so much. In America I miss the sense of history and culture that’s evident in all the major European cities. I miss Europe a lot these days.

I went to visit my hometown to spend time with my family. Although the city has come on a lot since I lived there and feels cleaner and more welcoming than it did fifteen years ago or so it’s still very quiet and closes up completely at night. I went out at 11PM to try to buy a Mars Bar (well, that was a pretext…) but couldn't find anything open – not even a petrol station. Weird.

Late night Coventry. This used to be a Wimpy Cafe in the 70's, now it's a listed building as an example of post-war architecture. Class.



And this is the Devil on the side of Coventry Cathedral. When we were kids on school trips we'd giggle at his willy as it looked like a milk bottle (and we know it's not after doing the corporate gig in October. We know exactly what the Devil's Willy looks like now: it's a Hennessy Bottle). Thirty years later and I'm still giggling at the Devil's Willy. And don't pretend you're not going to click on the photo to look...



Coventry finally has it's own food specialty to crow about. The noble Pork-Batch. At last, a cuisine I can call my own. Cooked pork on a roll with stuffing. Simple, classic, and unhealthy. This cart is a recent addition to the precinct but you've got to love the captioning. Coventry, where crap jokes are given pride of place. Truly makes me proud, and explains a lot too.



From the Midlands I flew to Amsterdam. One of my oldest and bestest friends is playing guitar for George Michael and I didn’t want to miss the chance to see him (However I missed seeing Neko Case and Cat Power to see George Michael - I'm either on the turn or an exceptionally good friend). The show was exactly as you’d expect – professional, slick, packed with hits and very good. I have to say more power to George as he gets to throw in a few barbed comments during the set with the visuals, as this picture of an inflatable George Bush getting blown by a British Bulldog shows. Wonder if he’ll use this on the US Tour? Or at Earls Court, for that matter.



I had my final day in Europe in Amsterdam. It was a rare treat to be in the city without an entourage of stoners all gagging about numbing themselves into comas. (to be fair last time it was only a couple of people, but it was enough to have me spitting bile for the entire visit) The air was crisp, the light amazing and I get off on hearing all the different languages spoken. The Dutch have a great way of saying English slang expressions and sounding more English than the English. The guy in a record store where I bought a Burt Bacharach compilation managed to say, “Mind ‘ow you go.” to me when I paid for the CD. Like he came from Deptford.

I had a great time wandering around and my friend took me to a load of commercial art galleries. There were prints of Dali and Picasso on sale for Euro 3000. I was tempted. Maybe when I go back at the end of the month…

Flying home, the nice lady at KLM check-in let me off my overweight baggage fee, which was kind of her and means I’ll try to fly KLM when I can from now on. Nice people.

Sadly, during my 5 hour layover at Heathrow I had to start hearing idiots in American’s Business Class lounge. Why is it stupid, opinionated people can’t help being loud? On the flight I was sat next to a man who was reading Bill O’ Reilly’s book in Hardback. Why would you want to buy that guff in hardback? (The Book is Called Culture Warrior and outlines his battle to prevent someone turning the US into an image of Western Europe. The preface is as self-serving and self-aggrandizing as I could stomach, but people buy this – in hardback. That’s just plain weird.) The guy also never said please and thank you to the attendants as they served him drinks. That’s piggish. And you know how I hate bad manners….

To take my mind of the violence that I felt towards the fascist ‘muncher sat next to me I made a list of all the good books I’ve just read this past two weeks, and the genius playlist on my I-pod that I’ve been listening to for the past few days and that I’d recommend to you all. Buying 10-hole Doc Martens from Holts in Camden and listening to Madness on the tube home is still one of the best London feelings a kid from the Midlands can get. Listening to Metal Guru while walking along the canal on Prinsen Gracht on the way to meet your date is another legendary feeling; a way to feel invincible with super-powers. How can you not feel invincible with that guitar sound blowing through your head? How can you not?


MADNESS – EMBARRASSMENT
IAN DURY – HIT ME WITH YOUR RHYTHM STICK / WHAT A WASTE
XTC - MAKING PLANS FOR NIGEL / MAYOR OF SIMPLETON
FLEETWOOD MAC – BIG LOVE / TUSK
T REX – METAL GURU
THE SMITHS – THIS CHARMING MAN
ROXY MUSIC - LOVE IS THE DRUG
JACKIE TRENT - MAKE IT EASY ON YOURSELF ( i think this is better than Scott Walker's version...)
DIONNE WARWICK – I’LL NEVER FALL IN LOVE AGAIN
DUSTY SPRINGFIELD – THE LOOK OF LOVE
OK GO – A MILLIONS WAYS
SHAKIRA – WHENEVER, WHATEVER
EDDIE FLOYD – BIG BIRD
THE THE – SLOW TRAIN TO DAWN
THE SMITHS – I STARTED SOMETHING I COULDN’T FINISH
THE SPECIALS – GANGSTERS
BRITNEY SPEARS - TOXIC
THE WONDERSTUFF - IT'S YER MONEY I'M AFTER, BABY
NICK CAVE – SUPERNATURALLY
PAUL WELLER – INTO TOMORROW / YOU DO SOMETHING TO ME
DAVID BOWIE – I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU / PABLO PICASSO
GRANDADDY – ALBUM OF THE YEAR

BOOKS:
Alan Bennett – 3 Stories
M J Hyland – Carry Me Down / How The Light Gets In
Henry Green – Loving / Living (Living is the only book I've ever read written entirely in a Birmingham accent - It's bloody boss, it am).
Paul Bowles – Collected Stories
Issac Babel - Collected Stories

More Photo's from Turkey


A street market...kind of Dolcis on the riverbank.



This guy sat in the park and people came to him to have him write letters for them. He was kept very busy.



And this guy was in Uskudar. He had some scales where you could "check you health". Other health-specialists had rulers to measure height too, but this guy was just running with the basic fatty check.















Along the river banks everyone was fishing. All the men had their own rods and there was a guy renting rods (or so it seemed). I don't know that I'd want to eat anything that came out of the water there but that didn't seem to bother anyone else.



There were many stalls like this - barely more than a tray set up on a trestle on the pavement. They were popular with the fishermen. I guess a hard days angling makes you hungry for some lemony mussels. There was also a geezer serving the fishermen tea from a small portable canteen. The spirit of free-enterprise.















These boats were quayside near the Galata Bridge. And they were busy. With so many ferries on the river it seemed impossible to work on them as the wake from the passing boats would send them rocking from side to side violently.