Saturday night was really odd. Really, really odd. I went back to an old haunt, and I don’t mean somewhere that I used to go to a few years ago, I am talking almost a decade ago. No I wasn’t up north, no I wasn’t somewhere in the south, I was in East London and what felt like a different lifetime ago and that was just the tube journey.
I went to a pub I used to work at as one of the bar men/bar sluts called The Angel in Stratford, actually its much more Plaistow but that’s a minor issue. The major issue is how bloody long it took to get there, not that I was thanked. The reason to support an ex and now friend, who used to DJ there as now he is back doing the decks once again. We met there back in 1999 when believe it or not I was quite innocent, no you are right don’t believe that. He was the DJ and I was the bar boy and we sort of hit it off.
Back then I was new to London, living in a small room in nice house where I didn’t really fit in, they were all quite a lot older (and I didn’t want to sleep with any of them) and I was working days at The Millennium Dome. I was under 18 (but don’t tell the landlords that) and the world was my oyster. Only I didn’t know what the hell to do with it. The Angel became my hang out and I became very gay, I mean as camp as Christmas and then some, there wasn’t a Steps routine I didn’t know.
We split up (after he cheated – it obviously scarred me for life when we met up after 8 years I had forgotten) and I went back to Portsmouth for a while and then came back. I moved into a one bedroom flat with my best friend at the time and we were so poor we would eat pasta and mayonnaise with herbs every night. We made a clique and thought we were so all that with some other gals and gays back then. I actually may have to find some pic’s and scan them from back in these days, I look a different person let alone feel like one! Plaistow did have its pro’s, I dated a TV presenter for a while, I met Panders and actually went past our old house on the way home. It was weird.
I went to a pub I used to work at as one of the bar men/bar sluts called The Angel in Stratford, actually its much more Plaistow but that’s a minor issue. The major issue is how bloody long it took to get there, not that I was thanked. The reason to support an ex and now friend, who used to DJ there as now he is back doing the decks once again. We met there back in 1999 when believe it or not I was quite innocent, no you are right don’t believe that. He was the DJ and I was the bar boy and we sort of hit it off.
Back then I was new to London, living in a small room in nice house where I didn’t really fit in, they were all quite a lot older (and I didn’t want to sleep with any of them) and I was working days at The Millennium Dome. I was under 18 (but don’t tell the landlords that) and the world was my oyster. Only I didn’t know what the hell to do with it. The Angel became my hang out and I became very gay, I mean as camp as Christmas and then some, there wasn’t a Steps routine I didn’t know.
We split up (after he cheated – it obviously scarred me for life when we met up after 8 years I had forgotten) and I went back to Portsmouth for a while and then came back. I moved into a one bedroom flat with my best friend at the time and we were so poor we would eat pasta and mayonnaise with herbs every night. We made a clique and thought we were so all that with some other gals and gays back then. I actually may have to find some pic’s and scan them from back in these days, I look a different person let alone feel like one! Plaistow did have its pro’s, I dated a TV presenter for a while, I met Panders and actually went past our old house on the way home. It was weird.
Coming back married, settled and much happier was strange. ‘Do you see anyone you know?’ DJ ex asked, I said no, but I had. In one corner sat an old acquaintance who I had known very well and seeing him with the same people, the same girls hanging on and acting like well we wont be bitchy but you know what I mean, and I thought, thank god I got away from that. I couldn’t leave quick enough, not because I didn’t want to stay to the fabulous tunes, but because a) I had a bloody long journey home and b) this Simon and that Simon then no longer have anything in common, and that felt quite odd and uncomfortable. Will I go back… time will tell, maybe I should take the husband?
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