OK, so I’m sitting here on my first flight home (yes, strangely, I always have to catch a four flight round trip from Spain to Portugal) having had no sleep, and thought I’d be a good boy and write a blog for my whip-cracking DJ agent.
I arrived in Porto (via Madrid) at around 8pm and then took off with my driver for the final hour and a half drive to Coimbra.
Now, every time I’m a passenger in a Ford Focus I’m really impressed by them – seriously. This particular time, its ability to handle motor-way bends at extreme speed was at the forefront of my attention. I thought I’d draw light to this by mentioning the Brazilian Grand Prix to my driver but the hint failed to bring the needle back down below 230kph. I should add at this point that my driver Paolo was actually a very nice fellow and a damn fine driver but also the first person to take my body over 230kph on land.
Occupying my mind by preparing myself for a possible future Dragon’s Den appearance where I present a revolutionary speed restrictor, (I do actually have an idea…you wait I’ll be a millionaire this time next year!) I took up smoking, closed my eyes and prayed for us to reach the hotel.
Ironically the hour and a half turned into two hours after we made a wrong turn, so the only real benefit to the pedal being so in love with the metal is that I’m going home with a mild but nevertheless slimming facelift. Once at the hotel, my driver and I grabbed a couple of hours sleep and then made our way to the club.
‘NB’ is a spanking new venue in Coimbra, a picturesque city pretty much in the centre of Portugal which also boasts Europe’s oldest University. The night went really well with the 1,500 strong crowd holding firm until I played my last record at 6am. I got the feeling they had a penchant for tunes they knew so I threw a load of bootlegs at them for the last half an hour which they seemed to dig.
Within five minutes of the resident taking over again I was back in the car (after we’d changed to slicks) and was skimming like a pebble on a lake back to Porto. The journey back took an hour (work that out!?) and before long I was through security and waiting in the plush surroundings of Porto’s gleaming airport.
I don’t feel I can leave you without sharing the piece of nutritional advice I’ve just been given by Iberia’s cabin crew over the flight intercom. Apparently, if you are a transit passenger and in possession of a boarding card with seat assignment, you don’t need chicken again.
So, as I embark on my new poultry free diet, I bid you adios!