The Joy of Sex Books

In the 1990s I spent quite a bit of time in Iran, exploring for gold and copper. Fun times. It’s a beautiful country and we saw a lot of it, mainly in the Turkic north which stretches from the capital, Tehran, up to the borders with Azerbaijan and Turkey. We worked with a small team of Iranian geologists. One of the guys, a key member of the team who I’ll call Bob, was newly married. I’d met his wife in Tehran. A very pretty woman, she was quite religious, as was he, hence in true Islamic fashion, their hospitality to visitors such as me was overwhelming.

Something like this…
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I Met A Drug Smuggler

Western Pakistan is a fascinating place. It’s remote, arid, tribal, and these days a Taliban stronghold; not the friendliest of spots for westerners planning on coming home still attached to their heads. It was slightly safer when I was there in 1997, although it still had its moments (see My Project Went Boom).

The Chagai Hills.  Not sure I’d call them hills if I got to name them.
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In Praise of Eggplant

Just kidding.

If you ask me, eggplant has no point. Nada. Zip. Far as I’m concerned, it could vanish from greenhouses and shops around the world and bugger off to the great compost heap in the sky. I wouldn’t miss it. Any vegetable that’s become the unofficial Emoji for a penis really needs to take a long hard look at itself in the mirror.

I’m officially a dick.
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Musical Roots: Miserere

If you’ve taken the time to read any of my blog posts on classical music, you may have spotted a recurring theme to the composers and pieces I write about. I have a deep love for the ancient vocal origins of western choral music, and the more I delve into the family tree, the more I find to love. I’m not alone of course. The respect for our choral roots is obvious in so many works by modern composers and musical scholars, like Arvo Pärt – his Magnificat, for example- or the Fantasia by the slightly-less modern Vaughan Williams.

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The Joy of Birthdays

Today’s my birthday, and I hate birthdays. Ok, I really have to stop writing “I hate” in the first sentence of my blog pieces. Anyway, to quote George Carlin, so far, this is the oldest I’ve ever been.

Yeah, yeah, so what’s your point?

Famous dead people I share my birthday with include Ronald Reagan, Bob Marley, Eva Braun, Babe Ruth and Rick Astley. I’m exaggerating slightly. Technically Rick Astley’s still alive but his music is getting a bit stinky.

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Stock Picking in a 2019 Stylee

I promised myself when I started urbancrows.com that it wouldn’t become a mining and exploration blog. I was determined to keep it broad-ranging, stuffed full of erudite and amusing articles covering everything from wildlife, classical music to ancient sex toys. It would be an intellectual bootcamp for me- and Lord knows, I’m mentally flabby –  where I could build a careful façade as a funny polymath. Yeah, not quite.

Thank you Lord. Sound advice.
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