Barbara has asked how the books are going and if there ‘was any chance’ of a possible extract (see current replies). I don’t see why not.
Not really giving anything away as its only an introductory piece. I’ll go look in the files after as sure I have a picture of Jean Paul somewhere; maybe even one of his friend Sophie also (who is also mentioned) IF I can find it. That’s a big IF! If I do, note that the picture is exclusively my copyright and I hold the nehatives; or in this case, the transparencies.
The piece itself is really self-explanatory; even if I have not given you all of that chapter. But please don’t send me anymore book orders for this volume yet. This is only an exclusive ‘one off’ advance extract, and the book will not be out until the summer. Orders now will only be mislaid, knowing my filing system!
(I am still looking for a new secretary – any offers!?).
Anyway, I will post this up but try and find the pic. First.
And enjoy everyone!
The French Connection
On February 19th, 1982, I found myself at La Gare de Lyon station in Paris. It had been a long journey with all the interchanges and the Ferry but now, in noticeably warmer weather, the platform seemed so long and desolate. I had rough Metro directions to get to Jean-Paul Bourre’s address, but I found it without too much trouble through cobbled back streets and scattered cafes, finally reaching a ‘shadowy-looking building’ like something out of Balzac.
The bell labels were all faded, but I knew Bourre’s place was somewhere at the top, and as there was a top bell – although without any discernable name – I just tried that.
Eventually it seemed to work and, amidst intermittent ‘buzzing sounds’, the catch was released. I was about to enter; although shouts and ‘mocking sounds’ from a group of Frenchmen sitting outside a café opposite, seemed to be warning me not to do so. I ignored them and went in, but the lights didn’t work and I had some trouble in climbing the steep stairs.
The door opened, and inside Jean-Paul introduced me to ‘Sophie’, a ‘friend’, he said, who was sharing the flat as well. She was a very attractive blond-haired girl some years younger than him, and eventually I learned she was Austrian but spoke fluent French as well.
Bourre’s flat, in fact, had much in common with the exterior of the building. Old and cluttered but cozy would be a good way of describing it, although you felt as if you’d stepped back in time, by at least half a century.
His books lined the walls on roughly constructed shelves, and there was an old manual typewriter on an old desk with papers strewn around it, which I took to be his ‘nerve centre’ of writing. Most of these were either on the ‘dark occult’ or rock stars – or the connection of some of the latter with the former concept. One book that caught my eye was John Lennon – Le Beatle Assassiné, with a black and white picture of Lennon on the cover. That was selling very well, Jean-Paul assured me; mainly due to his research that had uncovered that John Lennon’s death had really been an assassination successfully executed by the American government. They had apparently not liked his ‘love and peace’ rhetoric, especially when this entered politics or interfered with America’s wars against Communists! – such as the one in Vietnam – when Lennon was urging Americans to rise up in protest.
Jean-Paul’s books (and there were many more) really were quite fascinating; although I had heard similar arguments about Lennon before, and so was inclined to be wary of accepting such arguments at face value. There could have been some truth in what he was maintaining, but on the other hand this might have been just a ‘convenient ploy’ to ensure good marketing.
In any event, I didn’t really care either way. I had never had any interest in politics – including the rumours and theories that so often accompanied these. I was more interested in the impending Congress and Jean-Paul’s announcement about my involvement in the ‘Messe Rouge’ (“Red Mass”) everyone was waiting to see.
And of course, I wanted to know about the apparent involvement of Christopher Lee and Roman Polanski as well, considering my name had already been mentioned in the French Press as having been billed with them.
Eventually, we all sat down to eat, as Sophie had prepared a simple but enjoyable meal. It was a stew accompanied by thick slices of French bread and the taste of garlic, with fruit and coffee to follow. We spoke about the Congress, though Jean-Paul seemed a little vague about this; he said many people were waiting to see me as I was well known in France now due to the Press (there had been a sensational front page article about myself in Special Dernière – France’s equivalent of the News of the World – about a year before) they wanted to hear all about ‘English Wicca’ and my experiences with the Highgate vampire.
Of the ‘Messe Rouge’ billed for the Congress, he said he would be conducting that but it would ‘look better’ if I took part, even if I just stood with the others so as to be seen as a participant.
Some relevant rapport was established, but after some more conversation about the next day’s event, Jean-Paul walked me back to my hotel. The streets were somewhat darker now as some of the cafés had shut, but I had an excellent guide for precise directions.
I went to the Luciferian Congress with Jean-Paul and Sophie the next afternoon. We went ahead of schedule so that I could be properly introduced to the organizers, and he could check the evening’s preparations.
The building had obviously been used regularly for functions before, and had a huge hall which I guessed could easily accommodate 500 people or more. A large platform ran along the back wall, and there were large tables along another, all packed with pre-prepared food with disposable plates so that people could just help themselves . . . [You’ll just have to wait for the rest! D)
OOOH, SCARY! It is amazing David what you can write about from the past, I cant remember what happened to me last week, or yesterday for that matter!
The only thing I kept as a semi fictional record was my time as a psychiatric nurse in the sixties, it is quite a scream, I must re-write it one day–talk about dickipoggy!
I this the book with the Yorkshire dickipoggy in it?
No Barbara, the other book is finished, but just waiting for an introduction from someone. The second Vol of my autobiography goes from 1974 until up until about 1990; not sure yet, but it’ll certainly need 3 Volumes. But after Vol 2, 3 can wait for a bit. I feel as if I’m getting ‘over-written’! I know I’m a good writer, but that doesn’t necessarily apply to speed! Pact with the Devil is the one with you in it; though I’ll put you in the 3rd Vol as well when that comes out.
For the moment