Start Reading

The Ice Boat - (On the Road from London to Brazil)

231 pages3 hours



The only reason anyone went out was to buy drinks in town. The tide of cans was always in on the studio floor.

With plenty of drugs, sex and rock and roll; The Ice Boat is a modern pop-culture odyssey.

Dave has almost got it all; with a rock star lifestyle, romance and a nice flat in London, he almost has the happiness he has worked for all his life. But his reluctance to compromise in love takes him away from London to disaster in Rio de Janeiro. Losing his identity, and his heart, to a scheming Brazilian siren, he manages to evade the corrupt music biz sharks and ends up living with three prostitutes in Amsterdam.

This book navigates the seedy underbelly of the music world like a nuclear submarine; magic mushrooms, cocaine, romantic pornography, pop culture freaks, toilet sex, public sex and laughing in the face of death all put in a glimmering appearance in this edgy, international road thriller.

Full of suspense and unresolved emotions, The Ice Boat is a real 20th Century odyssey that will have you laughing and crying. Somewhere between Ken Kesey or Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and Nick Kent’s Apathy for the Devil, it’s like a kind of two fingers up to those who mock real creativity and innocence in the performing arts.

Buy Volume I and II together in one book, The Ice Boat - Boxed Set, to make a great saving!

Includes Chapter One of Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate.

Also available in paperback and Kindle version.7


Chapter One

It would be another scorching hot day. Rio, close to the Equator has winters only about six degrees cooler than the summers and had been 36 degrees at noon the day before.
Dave walked steadily forward towards a group of stevedores stacking crates near the edge of the quay. He called out, “Que sa la San Antonio?” the name on the ticket, and they pointed to the right, second pier along, with hand gestures.
“Obligado,” he said, and started walking.
It took about half an hour to locate his ship. Carrying his guitar-case and bags, he was sweating when he finally saw her, stern first.
She looked terrible. The name was the only bit of paint still properly sticking, the rest a mixture of rust, white undercoat and semi-matt or gloss black paint on the hull, rust and white above.
Dave reached the area of the quay, fenced-off by the Bremen Ship Company.
Three sides of a quadrangle were formed by a high, rusty white steel fence, with a gate and white steel office next to it inside the fencing. A white notice board on two metal poles advertised the name of the company.

Read on the Scribd mobile app

Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere.