The Naked Raver (book excerpt), due for release Spring 2012
The Hollywood sign, and Chicago, are the only places of appeal to me in America. Chicago because of dance music; and the Hollywood sign because it is like an old friend.
I drive up Sunset Boulevard. It feels surreal. I see the names of some streets that I recognise, mainly from the movies. And I see road signs pointing the way towards Beverly Hills.
Worth a look, I decide.
So I park the car and walk around the neighbourhood. Houses are huge, hidden behind large walls, with private guards. Some are smaller, in cul-de-sacs. I get the feeling these smaller ones are the houses that people buy just to say they live in Beverly Hills.
One of the small houses is for sale and is offering viewings today. So I walk up and have a look around.
Not bad, but not my first choice. There is a bar and a small lounge, an average sized kitchen, a cellar which is a maid’s quarter, and a swimming pool (in the shade) squeezed into the back garden, traversing almost wall to wall with just enough room on one side for a couple of sun loungers.
No thank you, I say to the Real Estate guy as I leave.
The next stop for me is the sign. I find the entrance to the road I am to take, and notice that at the bottom of the road there is a small convent, a missionary, and it is called, The Sisters of St.Clare.
Ironic, my surname is St.Clair, so I tell myself I can always come and join this group and live a life of obscurity if need be.
Either that or I will throw myself off the Hollywood sign in a desperate attempt to make a statement.
And then I laugh at the drama queen within and know it is just a moment of apprehension.
