Savidge'd Daily

Who is the new London Editor of Bent Magazine

2009-08-27T13:24:00.003+01:00

Oh... it just happens to be me! Sorry but I am barely able to contain my thrill at the news but I will talk about it properly in a bit.

It has been a long time since I have done any blogging that hasn’t been based on books as Savidge Reads has gone strength to strength leaving both The Great Gay Reads (though this is moving and being revamped too) and my personal blog behind. However its time for a change and along with a new job I will be moving this blog somewhere else too. The aim of my personal blog was originally to keep family and friends in foreign fields up to date with my news as I am rubbish at emailing and also for anyone else in the ether who was interested. Somehow it stopped and now after almost 5 months I am back, even if I am moving.

So what have I done in the last nearly five months? Well…

- I moved into a new lovely two bed flat twice the size of my last.
- Made the decision to move my book blog, Savidge Reads as it got too much traffic and needed a revamp.
- Started working for a Cancer Charity as well as me journo stuff, manic but worth it.
Debated moving to Brazil which is now on hold, well for the foreseeable future anyway.
- I went to Switzerland and had an amazing time, may do a belated blog on that soon.
- Mourned a Goldfish, got a new one.
- Started a new central London Book Group.
- Finally stopped talking about it and started writing 500 words a day of the novel I have waffled on about writing and stuck to it.
- Got a new role as London Editor for Bent Magazine (as in this week).
- Decided to start my personal blog again because of above point, only move it somewhere new.

So why move? Well moving Savidge Reads from Blogger to Wordpress was one of the best things that I did in the last five months and so I thought I should do the same with Daily Savidge, only it feels that I should start a fresh so I am not dragging Daily Savidge with me, rather having a facelift and renaming myself Savidge Tales. I also think sadly it may be time to say farewell to Myspace, I can’t think when I last logged on (though I will today to put this up)? Is it me or does it seem a bit over?

I also thought that as in the last few months its been new job, new flat… why not a new blog. The subjects will be the same me jumping for joy at random madness and then whinging and having a moan about the life of a married London Lad in his Late Twenties. I do feel like it’s a ‘new era’ which is quite a delightful feeling. Maybe I should make some resolutions? Maybe tomorrow… when you can find me HERE where today is a blog thats a slightly reworked version of this one. Lazy and yet finikity all at once...

'Changing The Guard' - Proactive & Polari

2009-04-01T10:57:00.006+01:00

A change has come over Savidge Towers of late, the procrastination seems to officially be in migration (that leaves the possibility that it may come back but am hoping not) as I have now decided that self discipline is definitely the way forward. So at 9am (well technically 10.30 today as Mr B had a shoulder popping out of socket incident at 4am) I turn on the computer switch of the blackberry, close msn and any other messenger, ignore facebook and work. And do you know what this new routine is working, why had I not thought of this before?

I have a very last minute freelance job to thank for this change. On Thursday last week I got a message from the editor of Polari Magazine saying that someone had dropped out of doing a piece for the magazine last minute and that I had been recommended (thank you Kenneth Hill) as someone who could write something. The brief was a blog-like piece that was around 900 words on ‘changing the guard’ to be delivered in twelve hours. Firstly I was stumped with ‘changing the guard’ I knew a piece on the ritual outside Buckingham Palace wasn’t what they were after. So I will admit that the first three hours or so were ‘research, thinking, smoking, coffee drinking’ aka procrastinating. I went to be with a few pages of notes and a doomed feeling in my stomach. 8am Friday I sit at my computer and type, concentrate and type shutting all the naughty distractions of. Three hours later it’s done. And looks like this…

You can see the full piece here at http://www.polarimagazine.com/03mar09/20-21.html I am not going to copy and paste it all in this blog as I really want people to go and read the mag as its great. Do have a read though as would mean a lot to me! As for the piece its a subject I never thought I would write about and I am quite proud of it as a whole (without sounding like a self promoting big head), it’s a change in style for me a little bit more mature. The people at the magazine are really, really lovely and are really keen to push The Great Gay Reads which is exciting. It seems it has also given me the kick I need to get the whole ‘I work for myself I need to manage myself’ ethos properly formed in my mind and since then I have to admit that I think this is the most creative and productive writing week I have had in ages. So it appears I have changed my guard in some strange way.

With that said I better dash and get some more typing done!

Moaning About Children

2009-03-30T19:04:00.000+01:00

No, oddly not me myself moaning about ‘the youth of today’ you can tell you’re getting old when that expression falls from you lips, which actually happened on Saturday. After a lovely night at the theatre seeing the wonderful (bar the actor playing the title role) ‘An Inspector Calls’ we went to the pub and as Mr B put it we all thought ‘is this a f**king kids school party’ I had to have a late night Burger King to commiserate. It was a Wetherspoon’s so could be highly likely they were under the age of sixteen in there. Anyway I am not moaning about them, not today.

I am bothered by parents who moan about their children or having had children. Working from home I have the radio on a lot (I very much care for Radio 4 – lots of bookish programmes, plays and of course The Archers) sometimes I listen to the TV, I don’t watch it as I would never do any work, so I listen to it a room away, strange I know and slightly wasteful on electricity. Something that seems to be being discussed in various forms at the moment is having children and how much they cost, or how difficult schools are or just general moaning. Plus you feel like saying “did you really think babies cost no money and continue to cost no money for the next eighteen years”. It’s not just the media though it is also something you see. I have lost count of the number of times I see mothers screaming and their screaming kids in Tesco or having a go at them in the street and it enrages me. I heard one woman down the high street shout ‘I wish I had never had you’ maybe the child did too.

It annoys me that there are so many bad parents out there. I am aware there are lots of good parents out there; they are not what I am talking about these delightful people today. I don’t just find these scenes and debates on radio annoying just because I am gay and can’t biologically have children but for anyone who can’t have children. I ought to add before I get battered for being anti-straight people I am not at all. I know people who couldn’t conceive and who have had to spend thousands on IVF, some have now got gorgeous well looked after and completely dotted upon children now, others haven’t been so lucky. I am also not anti young single parents either. My mother herself was sixteen when she had me and took me to University with her (I think going to university aged three, explains why I didn’t go as an adult) she got her degree and has become very successful.

A lot of people are against gay couples having children including many gay people themselves which is fine that’s their choice, though if someone straight said it to these gays they would quite possibly fly into a PC rage. I can’t biologically have children with Mr B obviously but I do want children, in fact so strong is this urge that had Mr B not wanted them I don’t know if we could’ve been together. We were asked only the other day if we would do it through surrogacy I had two answers to that first was ‘did you see that Channel 4 show about surrogate mums?’ If you didn’t then you missed a whole load of crazy, I know that’s a generalisation and these women were very extreme cases but there is a much bigger reason I would rather adopt.

There are so many children out there that need good homes and as I can’t biologically have them then for me adopting is the best option and no not because that is what Madonna or Angelina and Brad are doing right now. That worries me, famous people are making it seem ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’ and it should be about can your provide financially and most importantly lovingly for children. Though I said that if Mr B hadn’t wanted children I wouldn’t be with him I don’t mean that I would not be happy if I can never have children. If I can’t adopt children or have them in any way for whatever reason I would by no means feel my life wasn’t complete. I have lots of very little cousins and babies of friends in my life, I would just like my own.

I know one thing though, if I do ever have children I certainly won’t be moaning about it or telling the world how hard it is how expensive, not even about the dirty nappies and sleepless nights. You can hold me to that if in a few years time we meet over a coffee, me hollow eyes from lack of sleep with baby sick stains on my clothes and I start the sentence “oh god… having children…”

Twenty Seven Is The New Twenty Six

2009-03-26T12:52:00.002Z

Well it kind of has to be doesn’t it really? I mean one minute you’re going to bed feeling like a slightly tired twenty six year old, you fall asleep and wake up feeling like a very groggy twenty seven year old, it just seems a touch unfair. I know there will be sighs around the blogosphere of ‘oh you’re still a baby’ and it irks me. Yes I know twenty seven isn’t that old but it’s that much nearer to thirty, which isn’t old but seems to come with a certain pressure emanating off it that, is hard to describe. Should I have a house by now and stop renting and get a mortgage, is it time to start thinking about kids (as with adoption it can take up to three years, if of course we were accepted), should I have more of an idea of where my life is going, if we are going to move to Brazil for a few years isn’t sooner better than later?

I think it was all these thoughts that gave me a headache as I awoke on my birthday this Tuesday morning. Of course you don’t actually feel any different, in fact I don’t think I have felt particularly older, wiser or indeed more mature since around my 25th birthday. As Mr B’s card, my first of course, jeered sorry reminded me of the fact this was my first birthday as a married man I did have a wave of ‘oh blimey I am actually an adult aren’t I?’ Shouldn’t that revelation have hit me back at 18 when I had already been living away from home for two years and was drinking, working and living ‘an adult life’ no of course it didn’t. No matter how old and mature I said I was, I simply wasn’t. I do have an old head on my shoulders in general though and think my friends would agree with me on that.

Take for example birthday celebrations. I simply didn’t organise anything special or official. I decided haphazardly and a little last minute that last Saturday I fancied a picnic on Parliament Hill and if people could make it I would love it and if not that was cool. Twenty seven isn’t a special one is it, not like the aforementioned thirty which will be a big balls out (well not literally) party like I am planning for Mr B who hits that age in November. No, those of you know him, he is not 27 again.

My aunties both found it very weird that I was twenty seven and went on and on about how old it was, which then made them start saying how old they were (39 and 40) Alice recommended that ‘you stay this age, well that’s what you start telling everyone’. I then wondered if she had met Mr B before I did as until three weeks before we got hitched I had no idea he wasn’t in fact twenty six, and was in fact twenty eight. My attitude when I found out was ‘if you are gonna lie make it count, don’t do two years do five or ten’. I think my new age is weirdest for my Mum who herself is only 43 and said ‘I can’t believe I have a twenty seven year old son’. I was hoping this was more to do with that I am that old already than to my actual existence though you can never tell with Mum.

So do I have any big plans for twenty seven? Well it looks like the move to Brazil for quite some time (more years than months) is becoming ever more possible. However like at New Year I am not going to inundate myself with ‘I should’ or ‘I must’ and have resolutions for the 27th year coming out my eyeballs. The only one thing I need to nip in the bud by the time I am twenty eight is procrastination it gets me nowhere. Anyways here is a pic of me at around the 27 mark taken by the lovely Dom Agius...

I dont think I have aged too badly... yet hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Yes that was slightly worried manical laughter!

P.S Not blogged for ages, but not had much to say and been busy as a busy bee working on Savidge Reads and The Great Gay Reads, and the book and having a job, but this will change!

No Fringe Benefits

2009-03-05T11:06:00.000Z

I might have gotten someone fired today. Not only that but I had managed this before 9.30am. The reason… my fringe! I can imagine people will be tutting or thinking ‘oh how gay’ but I have been growing it for about three months as the next hairstyle I was going for (yes that’s right - was) was a long straightened fringe and short back and sides, you know something a bit punky!?

Now because my hair gets so curly and thick I used to spend a lot of the time a skin head. However as Mr B validly pointed out ‘while you have still got it you should really grow it’ and so I have been and then having thinning appointments rather than hair cuts. Until today that is!

I arrived at the salon which shall remain unnamed and was seated with a very blonde young lady who pointed at the chair and chewed gum which I think translated into ‘good morning, please sit here sir’ blew a bubble and asked me what I wanted which was a number two on the back and sides some blending and then no touch to the fringe trimming on the crown and thinning through. This isn’t me being picky, well not totally, I was a hairdresser so I know what I want, if only I could cut it myself.

She then started with the shaving of the sides and telling her colleague all about her holiday last week to ‘Ibiza’ or ‘Ibeefa’ - I am not stereotyping these were her words. After sides shaved I then reminded her ‘no cutting the fringe please’ to which a chewed and grunted ‘uh-huh’ was delivered followed by ‘and do you know what the boys aren’t even that fit out there’ at her colleague. She’d made no attempt to engage me in conversation.

There was then a very loud SNIP which sounded like a big chunk of hair being cut, said hair fell to the floor and I looked up… Five inches of fringe… gone. Tears welled up in eyes but rage from my mouth beat them to it! I shall not repeat what I said as it’s before the watershed but managers were called; I shouted a bit more, got a new stylist who then took over and made my hair look 'spikey funky' which made me smile. It also took me nearer to the door my previous stylist had been shooed with the manager where voices were raised and it sounded like I wasnt the only one who had tears in the salon. I then felt a bit bad... but I shouldn't... should I?

I do get quilt when I complain, though if something is bad or wrong then you should complain shouldn't you? In my old job people always said 'don't you find firing people hard?' My response is redundancy's are hard to do, but firing someone happens when they do something wrong and they probably new it was coming... well if your HR procedures are correct.

Still I hope she didnt get fired (I did earlier - but only from complete rage)... especially in this current climate!

Becoming a Recluse... A Future Aspiration?

2009-03-02T11:40:00.001Z

I saw the first episode of Monty Hall’s Great Escapes last night, and found it so addictive and delightful I missed the results of Dancing on Ice, which is unheard of in our household. Suddenly nothing could better the idea of ditching a life in a big city and moving to the remotest cottage (more hut in his case) in the middle if nowhere with a dog (there would have to be two cats too – minimum) and bringing up pigs and chickens had never seemed like such a good idea. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I never thought those words would come out of my mouth and with the look of shock on his face neither did Mr B. He sort of spluttered a bit and said ‘maybe you just need the kitten you were talking about?’

Maybe but a kitten, though cute, wouldn’t change much. So why did this suddenly appeal? Maybe it’s from having a royally rubbish two weeks, believe me they have been vile particularly what I am calling ‘Faithful Friday’ last week shall not say more, that has made me feel this way? I didn’t blog as thought daily moaning and whinging might work for some but wouldn’t actually do me or anyone else out there any favours hence the silence. I’ve even neglected the Great Gay Reads which will be being revamped in the next two days, but oddly Savidge Reads has thrived maybe because it’s not work. Oddly though the thought most appealed last night after a blissful weekend which saw me really up and indulging in all the things I love. Maybe it’s just actually what I want for my future? I did some research and found my renovating dream...

It could also be that as March arrives thoughts go to my birthday (the 24th for all cards and gifts) and the fact I am getting older. It’s also the first birthday as a married man and now it’s more ‘our’ future as well as mine. The more I think ahead the more a small village by the sea with stunning views from my study, a nice log fire in the winter and more pets than a city farm seems more and more idyllic. I wouldn’t have them for my own dinner, though a vegetable patch seems a nice idea, just as pets I couldn’t see any animal I owned killed for my grub though oddly I am not a vegetarian. Strangely all this as opposed to the current hustle and bustle seems pretty marvellous.

Until last night I always thought that Agnetha from ABBA was crazy to bugger off and live in the middle of nowhere now I think she has a lifestyle that I want myself one day… I just have to win the lottery first. So is it getting older, is it a vile few weeks, am I missing my homeland and the Peak District? The Peak District doesn’t have any sea though and I definitely want sea especially with dolphins and seals like Monty Hall. Or is it simply I need a bloody good long holiday… I wonder if Monty needs a room mate for a few weeks.

The Moors of Mitcham

2009-02-16T07:00:00.002Z

I have dovegreyreader to thank for what has been one of the best, and most needed, days out in ages. Sometimes your head needs a bit of time off. I’ve been having a phase of cabin fever one of the pitfalls of working from home and what’s worse… writers droop and readers block! So rather than do nothing on a Sunday which is usually (and slightly infuriatingly) the case I demanded Mr B get up and off we went on a magical mystery tour to Mitcham Common.

I had some slight reservations about what might be lurking there as despite dovegreyreader's delightful memories of Mitcham, but it has become renowned for being a bit rough. However I had promised I would visit the area (I certainly wasn’t going alone during the week) and so we got the bus and ended up in what looked like a lane that wouldn’t go amiss in a crime novel as you can see.

I had some slight reservations until we turned the corner and were confronted with One Island Pond which looked like this…

I felt like I had stepped into one of the Moors from Wuthering Heights and yet I was still technically in London. In fact scrap Wuthering Heights I don’t like that novel, it was more a mix of the Moors from Jamaica Inn or Jane Eyre.

It also had the slightly spooky ominous edges of the sort of barren autumnal wasteland that you might get in a Susan Hill crime novel. My readers block vanished; I knew what I would be tucking into before bedtime. I think it’s the trees being so bare that made me think of crime sites, or too much ITV3, what do you think?

We then got lost and it started to rain. I could see the non reader (who forgot their coat) was looking less than happy until we turned another and were greeted by lots and lots of wild rabbits, some of which scarpered their white tails bobbing off in the distance and others who simply looked at us nonchalantly and carried on regardless. It was a delight. Sadly none of them stuck around long enough for a photo as it started to rain hard and they all vanished into their warm warren the lucky things. We then came across a small reminder of where we were which seemed to fascinate Mr B more than the rabbits ...

Despite getting so completely lost and their being no one around we eventually found a cyclist and some directions though the walk ended up going from four miles to six, we didn’t care as we were completely encapsulated by the area. We ended up finding the Ecology Centre, which was closed and then Seven Islands Pond where we both sat on an old tree trunk by the water skimming stones in one of those delightful comfortable silences. You don’t need to say anything to each other you’re both simply happy in your own thoughts letting you head wind down.

All in all just what the doctor ordered. I am off to start a crime novel... writing one or reading one, you'll have to wait and see!

In The Mood For Love?

2009-02-14T10:00:00.003Z

Today’s blog is sponsored by Cynical Smug Married Savidge.com

So its here, Valentine’s Day is upon us, the day when we celebrate the Saint Valentine who was martyred and buried in Via Flaminia on February the 14th around AD 269, no jokes about the number please as this is a serious Christian and Catholic Day… only it isn’t. As it goes other than the information above nothing is really known about St Valentine, so why do we celebrate this day, and should we really if we aren’t religious? The answer, well the people I blame are the likes of Clinton Cards, Thornton’s (who can be forgiven for their amazing Viennese Truffles), Tesco and if I could I would blame Coca-Cola but that’s Christmas isn’t it. Actually I did some research and even one of the Pope’s (Gelasius I) abolished one of the original Valentine’s festivals Lupercalia as he felt celebrating fertility was a little sinful. So why are we? I blame Chaucer and his lines ‘for this was on seynt Volantynys dayWhan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make’ I mean really, who can make any sense of that?

I am not and never have been a fan of Valentines Day. I don’t mean in a ‘bah -humbug’ way just in a ‘what is the point’ kind of way. I have this thought that people should know you love them without buying them cards, chocolates, fluffy teddy bears and roses. Though that’s what Mr B got when he came down to the lounge at 5am, we’ll gloss over the slight hypocrisy there as a) it is our first Valentine’s married and b) I didn’t spend over a fiver, I simply refuse. Mr B is quite a fan of all the romantic schmaltz but we do things on June the 12th which is Dia dos Namorados or ‘Day of the Enamored’ in Brazil. I don’t really deep down go wholey for either, I think you should tell people you love that you love them everyday and buy little surprise gives just randomly now and then, not on a forced specific day, well apart from Christmas and Birthdays - would be bad manners not to on those days. It’s quite sad in a way that for some people this is the only day it happens.

The other thing that really irks me about Valentines Day is that is can make people who don’t have that special someone feel like lepers. I know some people say they don’t care and indeed I am sure some people really don’t care, as one of my friends said to me ‘while you’re having a romantic dinner for two’ which we aren’t we are having fish and chips in front of the telly ‘I will be off in a certain shameless venue having sex with copious men’ now that doesn’t sound like a bad Valentines night does it. Oh I mean it would be if I wasn’t married that is… moving swiftly on! One phrase I love about Valentines Day is from Bridget Jones when she talks about ‘smug married people and sickly couples’ who simply throw it in your face. I haven’t been single on a Valentines Day since I was about 16, ok let’s rephrase that I haven’t woken up alone on a Valentine’s Day since I was 16 until oddly today!

So what is Smug Married Savidge doing on Valentines Day, apart from blogging right now of course? Well he had a small lie in even though Mr B woke me up at 5 to leave for work where he will be until 5pm. So I have most of the day alone doing exciting things waiting in for a new bed, washing the whites, cleaning out the goldfish bowl, finishing a review novel, writing 1000 words, hovering and maybe cleaning the bathroom, oh and not forgetting a run to Sainsbury’s to buy dinner for tonight. I might fit in the perusal of a few book shops just to show myself some love and treat myself.

So basically it’s a normal Saturday not one of theatre trips, staring into each others eyes with love on the tube to town to upset single people (who couldn’t really care less) whilst eating a ridiculously over priced meal with champagne and its bliss. I have even cancelled a work thing tonight so I can simply snuggle up on the sofa with some homemade grub and nice glass of wine or three, Mr B and a good movie (Burn Before Reading) which to me is bliss. The only thing am slightly riled about is I haven’t had a card… well not from Mr B anyway ha, ha.

So rather than end wishing you a Happy Valentine’s Day, I shall do as the locals in Finland do and wish you Ystävänpäivä which is today and is ‘Friend’s Day’ remembering and giving love to all your friends, so that is what I shall do! Happy Ystävänpäivä!

The S-ing Game Answers

2009-02-12T07:00:00.000Z

I put this up on my other blogs and completely forgot to do it here, I blame deadline week whole heartidly! So after the post I did on the challenge of finding my top ten things beginning with S here are the answers;

Savidge’s
Yes of course my delightful if slightly mad family, though the photo I uploaded I realised was also including a lot of my friends as this was taken on a very special day in my life when they were all together, my wedding last year. So those of you who guessed Siblings and social events… good guess but no. My siblings are on their as are my very little cousins, in fact if you saw them close up you would wonder which are siblings and which are cousins or aunts. My mother is 42 and the eldest of four and it regularly happens that we are confused for siblings and my actual little sister (aged 9) and my brother (aged 7) are confused as nephews and nieces.

Seaside
I am particular about seasides though. Firstly they can’t be sandy as I have a slight phobia of sand which I blame on moment in Tynemouth when I lived in Newcastle aged about 6. I don’t like to talk about it but Polly was there only it didn’t scar her for life. Since then sand makes me panicky and sick. So I like pebbled beaches as a rule and they MUST HAVE rock pools. I am off on holiday to Whitby soon and am wondering what sort of beach that is?

Sweets
In particular Jelly Belly as pictured, the tutti fruitti flavour is amazing!

Scribing
Everyone thought this was swearing which is actually more appropriate so maybe I should change it as I love a good swear even if it is ‘lazy language’ its bloody descriptive. As I like writing I thought scribing would be good, I was going to put an image of scribbles as I do that all day too.

Stately Homes
I believed Sunbury in Matlock Bath where I grew up was one of them, it was more Mansion sized, and spent a lot of time as a youth in Derbyshire going around Chatsworth. My Gran and Bong also took me to endless stately homes and castles as a kid; my favourite of all is Hardwick Hall.

Spies
If you though Spooks then that’s also correct as its one of my favourite shows. I wanted to be a spy for ages after my great Uncle Derek read me many spy stories as a youth on our ten mile daily hikes (we went on lots of walking holidays) and I have always liked a good Bond.

Swimming
I just put the cat on there to confuse. I do love big cats though but Snow Leopards aren’t my fav’s and didn’t think to find a picture of a sabre toothed tiger. Love swimming is a current favourite past time in my new gym routine.

Sushi
I could live on Sushi (and curry) as it is one of my favourite foods. I used to think the whole idea of it was wrong on every level and once I tried it I was caught by the bug… no not a tummy bug. The best place to have it was Gili Gulu near Seven Dials in London as you could get all you could eat for £13. It’s now closed down and there is an empty space in my heart… and my gut!

Supernatural
With a picture of the Most Haunted crew which is my guilty pleasure on the TV. I geekily own every DVD and am quite a believer. I had the pleasure of a ghost hunt with ex Most Haunted member Phil Whyman and my mate Michelle last year and something very, very, very odd happened. Sadly nothing happened when we spent the night locked in the London Tombs for charity last year, maybe on the next one?

Second-Hand Bookshops
I cannot help but be pulled in. I think it is a defect somewhere deep in my psyche. It is also what my study and lounge are slowly but surely beginning to look like. You could also see this as Stories, as you may have guessed I love a good tale/novel/book so it’s a multiple answer.

The S-ing Game

2009-02-07T11:08:00.003Z

I have been challenged by Cornflower to do a list of my top ten favourite things beginning with the letter 'S' as pulled out of her scrabble letters bag after a shake and a rummage (I love the word rummage) and so my gauntlet has been laid down. I loved what Harriet has done which is to leave you guessing a while so I will do the same and put the results up tomorrow or Monday!

Can you guess what my top ten favourite things beginning with S are?

I am mulling over prize ideas...

Love Thy Neighbour?

2009-01-31T11:00:00.003Z

At 3am this morning it has to be said that this wasn’t quite what I was thinking. In fact what I was in fact doing was restraining a naked Mr B as he made for the fire exit with one of my steel toe capped boots in his hand. The reason for this slightly bizarre image I have given you? The neighbours from hell of course! I think I might have mentioned the neighbours we have here before. I don’t mind people who are insatiably nosey, in fact we all have that trait in is somewhere, come on everyone likes a gossip. However blame throwing, accusatory and alcoholic isn’t that easy to live next door to. The blame throwing accusations of our flat smelling, where they in fact dropped their entire dairy shopping etc in their over laden bags in the hallway, still irks me, can you tell?

The last week we have been woken to the huffing and puffing of imminent heart attacks from the rather larger proportioned couple and loud discussions of ‘oh I need a wee now’ or ‘oh someone has been having a barbeque in the building, oh, oh the smell of burnt meat’ somewhere between midnight and 1am… when they have come back from a night at the pub. We’ve remained irritated but silent; I have a feeling that may now have all changed. As being woken at 3am to singing, shouting, wailing and crying you tend to loose all sympathy. In Mr B’s case you decide to jump out of bed grab the nearest heavy weapon (in this case a boot – I don’t even want to know what he was going to do with it) and charge for the area where our fire exit meets their front door on a landing. Yes the area they dropped all their food and blamed us for, it would have been an ironic place for a fight, well ironic in an Alanis was maybe.

Retelling the whole sorry saga back to one of my friends this morning she said ‘it’s London though Simon isn’t it? What did you expect your neighbours to be like the couple on the old Nescafe adverts?’ I decided not to comment at the time and simply said ‘well I think it’s selfish and rude’. I do strangely have the deep down desire that I should befriend all my neighbours and have a lovely time, have dinner parties, develop life long friendships - you know the stuff of soap opera. Well maybe without the constant bed hopping, occasional murder and finding out you sister/wife/Alsatian/Dad is in fact your Mum. One of those almost happened to me as it turns out if things had gone a certain way when I was born, but that’s another story.

Growing up in the 1980’s in the little town of Matlock Bath in Derbyshire (or Little Switzerland as it is sometimes called), everyone was friends with every one of their neighbours. Doors were left unlocked and you could pop round for some sugar if you ran out like in the old Nescafe ad’s. In some cases like with the Nescafe ad’s little love stories developed, especially if you sent my aunties (who are only 12 – 14 years older than me) round and one of the many neighbour’s sons answered their plight. Oh the Savidge girls were minxes. In fact I must blog at some point about Matlock Bath and my childhood there as it was the most happy time and is such a strange but brilliant place. I have a picture below and you can see out house if you go to the middle from the top of the postcard and drop down till you get the very dark tree our house was the one on the left.

Sorry in going down memory lane I digressed. There was also of course the show Neighbours which taught you everybody needs good neighbours, that love was just around the corner, you could be there for one another, bad people don’t win out, girls can be mechanics too and that sleeping with twins was possible. Oh erm scrap the last one (I loved the Alessi twins, not as much as I loved Paul Daniels though) and of course in finding Kylie it changed my life in a whole other way.

In my mind ‘The Matlock Spirit’ was what being a neighbour was all about and still now in Matlock my Gran has neighbours who do the same; they all look out for each other, do Tai Chi together of a Thursday, have book groups, swap recipes and get very drunk playing bridge. I suppose it’s a bit like the Golden Girls, another show which in my early twenties furthered my ideals of what housemates/neighbours should be like. Mind you I think my Gran secretly dreams of a life like The Archers and all the goings on in Ambridge. I was subliminally subjected to these goings on from the age of zero (the theme tune was the first music I danced to) to around sixteen as my mother and Gran both devour it. Maybe another reason for my ideals of neighbours and how they shoudl behave. For me though the two biggest ideals of neighbours came from TV and books in my late teens.

The first of which was This Life. Oh how I adored that show. I was fourteen so had to go to bed then wait for mum to be asleep and then creep down and watch it or somehow sneakily leave the video recorder recording BBC2 all night so I could watch it. There were flaws in this, the tape would run out or Mum would notice it recording think of the electric wasted and stop it, shes always been enviromentally minded. She never seemed to notice it was the same accidental recording the same time every week, well she probably did but just overlooked it. Mums know everything after all. At the time I was obsessed with the show and Anna in particular. I think she was a first major icon for me and I dreamt of auditioning for the role of Anna’s brother and getting it. It didn’t matter there wasn’t such a role, or London was miles away from Marlborough (where we'd moved and the neighbours were evil) or that I couldn’t do a Scottish accent. Oh or the fact that I can’t act; as the rejection letter from my Hollyoaks audition which is framed in my toilet will tell you all. One day deep down I knew I was going to live that life, well This Life life!

When I finally did house share in London it didn’t quite end up like that. There were some illicit nocturnal drunken activities with fellow housemates and even once the landlord who ‘lived in’, there were lots of parties but nowhere in This Life was their an obsessive self proclaimed ‘fag hag’ who turned up on all your nights out, fell in love with you and tried to ruin any female friendships you had or any relationships with boyfriends you had. They should have though it would have been a cracking storyline. For me though it was a very real few years of hell in East London. My house-sharing days are now behind me and I can think of them as mayhem of the past and slightly fondly.

When I got my own place though it would of course be just like one of my biggest late teen obsessions… Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City. Through these novels, in my mind at least, the perfect neighbours were created. Ok so some of the inhabitants were a little bit ropey but what a landlady! I have never ever had a land lord or landlady who has ever come close to the Madrigal and it has wounded me in some way I am sure. Plus who knew you could end up meeting a stunning rich gynaecologist after going roller-skating? I almost met a fit first aider through roller-skating though sadly not because he caught me as I fell, more because I sprained something and had to be helped out of the scene which I had caused. It was my ideal vision though of what my adult life would be like when I lived in the big city. A mixture of lovely gay guys, fabulous women, some fit straight men who didn’t beat up gay men and a fabulous crazy lady with dark secrets (I have now noted I don’t live in this environment but it does sum up my friends quite well) what more could you ask for?

Waking up at 3am this morning I of course I realised that though that scenario is heavenly it simply isn’t going to happen. Well not at this address anyway, but maybe at the next one. There is a block that Mr B and I are permanently watching locally to see if a flat comes up on which is beautiful and art deco filled and I secretly think has the great makings of the next Barbary Lane!

Tooting Top Ten

2009-01-28T15:01:00.004Z

I saw Clayton Littlewood’s ace blog on his Top Ten Things About Soho and told him I would think of my Top Ten Things About Tooting, I also thought after the rather heavy (but very important) previous blog this might be some light relief. When people ask where I live and you even mention south of the river there can be a look of disgust. If you say Tooting there is a look of puzzlement.

Now Tooting isn’t really famous for much other than curry which I will be mentioning more about later. Its main fames are as Clayton mentioned ‘The Bill is occasionally filmed around Tooting and the Thai bride from Little Britain, Ting Tong Macadangdang, is from Tooting’ but really The Bill is centred more around Collier’s Wood. There is of course Sandi Thom and her basement concerts, but let’s just gloss over that, though I did see her do the Popjustice interview outside the station and have passed her in toiletries in Sainsbury’s. WE are also famous for having the worst post sorting office in the whole of the UK. So what do I love about Tooting?

1. The Markets
Here in Tooting we don’t have one market, we don’t have two markets we have around ten. Some are the full on markets where you can come away with some slippers that will fall apart, all sorts of snacks from around the world, a budgie and a tattoo or two. (A tattoo or two in Tooting frankly should be the area’s tagline.) Others are like mini marts where you can get endless spices, and endless varieties of fruits and veg you have never heard of cant pronounce and you might cook wrong and do some damage but that’s part of the fun. I have to say since we moved to where we are now I have never eaten so much fresh fruit and veg, it’s marvellous. Oh and I must mention Tilda Talcum Powder. Only Tooting seems to stock it, it comes in the most amazing turquoise art deco bottle actually made of tin. It makes me smile when am soaking in the bath.

2. Curry Houses
I could eat curry morning noon and night. Mr B doesn’t like spicy food but that’s frankly just tough. What’s brilliant about Tooting is that at the moment there is an estimated 22 curry houses and I am quite happily taking on the challenge of eating in every single one. Oh every single one has won at least one award; some have won twenty apparently, the competition is hilarious and also makes the prices cheap! I love the curry houses here as they aren’t pretentious and false like some you get they are a bit like a café in terms of cheap tables and chairs only with amazing fresh curry at whatever heat you like.

3. Café-cino
You couldn’t make it up could you? This is incredibly well hidden (and am not saying where as want it to stay that way or everyone will be eating there) but is my favourite café in the whole of London. The staff are really friendly and you can have the full English with fried bread, scolding strong tea, gorgeous mushrooms, the whole works for £4! It reminds me of cafes up north which is odd as the theme is meant to be Italian.

4. Cheapest Council Tax in the UK.
That doesn’t really need expanding on does it?

5. The Library
Now some people would say that Tooting Library is the worst in the Wandsworth borough. You can never get the book you want especially if it was published after 1989, there aren’t actually many books in it and if one is in stock it won’t be where it should be. I go there not for the books but for the memories. With its outdated furniture, peeling wallpaper and old book smell its like the Library of my childhood in the 80’s... in fact really they should make it a museum of the 80’s they wouldnt have to do anything.

6. It’s the capital of the world for Lidl.
Well not officially but we do have three, yes that’s right three. Why we need three I just don’t know, but we do, and if like me you love having your cupboards filled with tins of god knows what then its perfect, priceless and life wouldn’t be the same without it.

7. Hardy’s On A Sunny Sunday
Also known as ‘the f-ing massive yellow pub’. You can often find me here in the summer, bathing in the sunlight next to the main road and the car fumes. It’s not that bad honest. I am not there on Sundays for the Sunday roasts as generally the vegetables are still frozen in the middle. What I am there for is the platter which is stonking huge with ribs, prawns, garlic mushrooms, onion rings, chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, it goes on and on! It is the stuff of legend and all for £12 to share between two, which could actually feed four. It’s also full of nurses if that’s you thing.

8. The Tooting Tesco Beautiful Baby Bear
The stuff of porn legend, well he would be if he was in it. Seriously unbelievable eye candy! I had to pass him once in the cramped (well it is a Tesco local) tinned foods section and haven’t been quite the same since. Mr B hates the Tooting Tesco Beautiful Baby Bear.

9. Primarni, Pound Shops and Charity Shops
Now I am sure several people will be saying ‘oh pound shops and Primark how cheap and vile’ my response is ‘blah, blah, blah’. I have been asked on many an occasion where I got that t-shirt etc and have even been asked by some to shop there for them! You can’t go wrong with some Primark same applies to pound shops. Though I hear it on good authority that Balham has converted its old Woolies into one of amazement, you can even get a firemans outfit for a pound. Why havent they done that with Tootings empty wollies or M&S? I have pound shops to thank for my Audrey Hepburn collage in the boudoir. As for charity shops sadly one of them has just closed down, however three others are still going one of which is like a book buyers Mecca and I have had people come to visit just for this particular book store where you can get 6 books for £2. Yes really. The staff in there are brilliant if you need characters for a book, the main lady tells everyone who wants to hear her business and the staff’s private business. I always have my headphones in but with nothing playing, her barrage of gossip is priceless.

10. The Lido (in summer)
Want to sunbath, see endless men (mainly of the knackered nurse, hot chav or DILF variety) in their summer swimwear finest, then really there is no other place to be, Oasis Shaftesbury Avenue has nothing on this. Oh and if your there to swim it’s the biggest Lido in Europe, yes really.

A Plague Of Politeness

2009-01-23T09:37:00.000Z

I don’t think London needs another great fire and I think bubonic plague and ‘the black death’ could be a little bit excessive after all I wouldn’t wish death on anyone but I would wish manners. Manners seem to be something really lacking in people at the moment and it’s wrong. I was shocked when I read this yesterday, the lovely Stella saved some poor girl from being spat at sworn at and wished aids upon. The people around this scene either walked on or milled past!

Until last night (you wait for what’s coming) the only time I had witnessed the joys of the British (well London) people doing sweet nothing was when a guy collapsed cracking his head open in front of Tooting Broadway tube. The florist lady and I were left to deal with the scenario with no one offering any help or simply gawping. The worst offender for me was a girl who simply reeled off the events down her mobile phone to a mate while she looked on, a mobile that could have been used to call an ambulance.

Back to last night when I went and saw the slightly un-thrilling Thriller Live! Hattie and I were unlucky enough to be sat on the same row as a rather large group of drunken ladettes who had seats in the middle and arrived late. Later still was one of the delightful groups’ sisters and pal who decided the free seats in front of us would make good resting spots for their almost paralytic mutton dressed as lamb saggy arses. (Sorry if am being rude ha!) At which point not only did they start ‘yee-hee-ing’ etc they stood up and danced, swayed, screamed.

A girl next to them kindly said ‘I know your having a good time but could you tone it down a bit?’ To which the most mutton dressed as lamb lady turned, sneered and screamed ‘shut the f**k up you black bitch, I paid good money to see this show, don’t think your any better than me, I am a f**king huge Jackson fan, so shut the f**k up’. To my horror this was met by quite a lot of laughter, I hope some was nervous. No one did anything though.

I couldn’t help but say ‘I don’t think anyone behind you paid to see you though did they?’ The manager was called for which I think saved my bacon from monster mutton, though as the lady who had been insulted ‘didn’t want to make a fuss’ they were asked simply to sing and dance at the back. Now when I worked in theatre management a complaint lead to action and in this instance the girl and her group would have been told to leave, their booking name would have been taken and ticket sellers would have been contacted and that booker would have been barred from theatres for a year. Clearly the Lyric don’t feel that’s the way to respond. What shocked me most though was that all parties washed over the racist comment. (My Gran would be proud – I have sent a strongly worded email.)

However, it’s not just casual homophobia, as Stella saw, or casual racism like last night that’s overlooked its manners as a whole. London commuters are famous for being rude. Why is that a claim to fame and not just deemed unacceptable? I then realised I am partly to blame as I can think of a few incidents when I have simply let other peoples rudeness pass me by. For example being asked as a favour to write something for someone and something they do on more than one occasion, spend hours on it and then that person not even having the decency to say they don’t need it anymore. Did I say anything… no! Then there was the neighbour who collected all the post the other day told me none of the ten parcels were mine ‘they are all for us, all of them for us’ before slamming their door. Two minutes later with a loud thud and bang my parcels are thrown/dropped in front of my door. They were fortunately books not glass. Did I say anything… no! When someone barged into me and trod on my foot on the tube. Did I say anything… no!

That has all changed after last night as come on manners cost nothing. I am a great believer in karma but if I am not doing anything then I can’t really complain, well I can I just have. I have done something about last night though and a new leaf has been turned over. It showed when today my landlord phoned to say that the neighbours have complained that the area between their front door and my fire escape smells and it seems to be emanating from my flat. The landlord said he found this odd as every time he has been round it’s been spotless. So rather than be rude and say how these neighbours were always having loud sex, stomping up and down the steps. I sweetly said ‘I think that might be from when they dropped all their shopping outside their front door including milk and eggs and haven’t cleaned it up since.’ That’s not rude that’s just truth. What’s rude is lying and blaming others. I have popped a note through their door offering some of our carpet shampoo to clean up the stains, that’s neighbourly of me isn’t it?

So that’s my rant over, and I shall leave you with my wish… if I could be all magical and mystical, I would send not a plague of politeness simply on ‘both your houses’ or my neighbours house, lets go for the whole bloody city and surrounding areas, in fact maybe the whole country could do with a bout of it?

The Great Gay Reads

2009-01-19T11:12:00.002Z

I have been slightly absent from the inter-dolly for the last few weeks and haven’t blogged at all despite my promise to blog much, much more. Well I haven’t blogged on here anyway. The reason for my absence is that firstly my Book Blog Savidge Reads is doing really well and had a huge overhaul over Xmas and is now seeing some of the UK’s top book bloggers adding supportive comments or sending emails as to how much they like it. This has been brilliant and though I am not normally one for self promotion (though you are getting two doses of it from me today) if you should wish to check it out then its http://savidgereads.blogspot.com/

The other reason for the absence is that as I have been hinting I have started a new project. I am searching for The Great Gay Reads. Now I don’t simply mean making a list of the best Gay Books Ever or doing a big vote, though there is voting involved. I am actually going to read through them all. This isn’t as some people may think, anything to do with Bent, though they are interested and helping, this is something I thought would be interesting in looking at what gay books are out there, what the history of gay literature is, what qualifies as a gay book and what good ones are there out there?

As a young-ish gay man I still have no idea the mass of gay works there are – though believe me I am beginning to. You can always find out what’s new and upcoming in the media because of course people are promoting it. I know there was The Big Gay Read but that was three years ago and has gone silent, it was great for some of my research though. What about the history of the gay novel and great gay novels of the past? I haven’t seen anything and believe me I have been looking. There seems to be lack of information about Gay History in this country and I want to find out more about my passion, books. (You all thought I was going to say willies and bums then didn’t you?) The great thing is I seem to have the publishers on side too!

So far the project has been undergoing a ‘test’ phase the layout has changed lots the contents keeps changing but I think it’s done now. I don’t like the header yet but it’s a work in progress and with being on a mammoth deadline I am quite pleased. What’s amazed me is the amount of emails I have already had, how have people found me? I have had some lovely emails, some fantastic suggestions, some of the ‘what gives you the right?’ emails and a little bit of homophobia, you can see some of this on the site. I am just pleased am getting traffic. The biggest shock for me has been the amount of gay books that are out there, I have wondered a few times if I may have bitten off more than I can chew! I have also been invited to and talked at a gay mans book group it’s been bizarre, but am loving it, just need to remember the day job now.

So… enough about me, me, me. I want to hear from you, you, you. Have you got a favourite gay novel, did one change your life, which ones supported you through coming out? I want to hear it all. Through the world of blogs, facebook, myspace and the likes I know there are lots of authors out there, would any of you be up for interviews, chats, suggestions? Everything is welcome email me (if you have it at my personal address) if not at greatgayreads@googlemail.com I would love to hear from you all.

Oh and the blog of course http://thegreatgayreads.blogspot.com/

Talking With Ravens

2009-01-06T11:43:00.001Z

I had the weirdest dream last night. Not only was I out at a stately home with girl who I kind of stopped being friends with a few years back and having some very deep and meaningful conversations and how we shouldn’t have stopped being mates, but also it suddenly dawned on me as we were walking through the grounds that I could talk to ravens. As you do in dreams. They weren’t crows or overly large blackbirds post Christmas munching I know that much, they were definitely ravens. I used to be a bit of a bird spotter, is it time I also come clean and tell you all I used to collect stamps? Moving swiftly back on to ravens.

It got me wondering why we dream what we dream and how relevant it is to our lives. Some people believe it’s your underlying consciousness that is putting certain images or clever metaphors in your head… I am not so sure on that! I always thought of dreams as having some relevance to what you have seen in the day or heard around you. Mind you, I haven’t seen any ravens since me and the Mr went for a Christmas Day stroll to Wandsworth Common before swiftly heading back as it was rubbish and bloody cold. So why would I dream of them, I mean we have pigeons galore on our bedroom sill but the ‘coo’ rather than ‘caw’ and there is also the incessant budgie the neighbours own I want too shoot but that just forever tweets and chirps. So it couldn’t be sounds I was taking in during the night. Unless that is an ‘unkindness’ of Ravens swarmed Tooting’s rooftops last night, and yes a group of Ravens is indeed called an ‘unkindness’.

This worried me then as to what it could symbolise. Firstly there were lots of them, so this could be some evil ‘unkindness’ coming into my life, oh great. I also link them in my own head with death I think because you see them lots in graveyards, not that I spend a stupendous amount of time in graveyards if you get my drift. So I then decided to look up what dreaming of ravens means. I found the following.

If one dreamt about a raven means a symbol for a corrupt liar man.
If dreamt someone gave him a raven means he will be busy with such a man for a useless job.
If dreamt killed a raven means will overcome such a man.
If dreamt ravens gathered in a place means thieves and corrupt people will gather there.
If dreamt took or hunted a raven means will earn some money in a wrong way. Some interpreters say many ravens are a symbol for an army.
If dreamt skinned a raven means will have immoral sex with a stranger.
If dreamt killed a raven means a disaster.
If dreamt cured an injured raven means will give advice to a thief.
If dreamt found a raven and hide it means he will follow his temptations.
If dreamt a raven robbed something from him means a thief will rob something.

So none of these applied to me as no one seemed to talk to ravens until I found “if dreamt a raven spoke to him means he will be aware of news.” Well thanks for that vague reading; I think anyone who watches telly or reads a paper knows the news so really it left me none the wiser. I have to say my personal favourite raven related dream theory was this one. “If dreamt a raven was in his pants means his son will have sex with his servant.” I mean firstly why does it mean that, and secondly who dreams about ravens in their pants? Also what if you don't have a servant? In my dream I think might have hidden one behind my back (oh my goodness that means temptations – well I do eat a rather a large amount of chocolate and cheese biscuits, not together you understand) but put one down my under crackers, oh no I don’t think so.

So all in all I am left puzzled, as you possibly are reading a blog about talking ravens. Do any of you know why I might have dreamt this?

A Goodbye Letter

2009-01-03T22:03:00.002Z

Dear 2008,

It’s been three days since you disappeared from my life, I know you won’t come back and I feel there are something’s that have been left unsaid. Looking back at the twelve months we shared together I think we did pretty well, we certainly did better than I expected. Your old friend 2007 had been a fairly rubbish year what with another cancer scare, a ropey year in a career I wasn’t enjoying along side a writing career that I wasn’t sure about, plus of course after loosing Bong I had written off the next full year. You really had a lot going against you. As with anyone new I meet I start with no trust and faith whatsoever and take if from there. Yet now I feel sadness that you’re gone lots happened to us together, both good and bad, that was very memorable and you helped me make big decisions and changes.

The high light of the year has to be getting married swiftly followed by the miracle twins who have now made themselves very well known in the Savidge Family. Yes Iris and Maisie were indeed two amazing gifts in the form or gorgeous cousins that were bestowed upon me during our time together. I met many new faces with you that I now cherish. Through Polari we met some wonderful new faces Paul, David, Stella, Clayton and of course one of my dearest and closest friends Dom. Of course there are many others through various ways who I have met and delight in, you know who you are, from new faces through myspace and blogs to people I had long lost touch with until the joy of facebook brought us back together. Back to the wedding though, you saw me on my happiest day with all those (who could make it) I love being with me on an extremely special day. Boy did it make me feel like I had grown up though. I wasn’t expecting that. You’ve seen my career improve and finally found me in a role that I am good at and totally love, oh and thank you for the ‘book job’ my house is becoming the library of my dreams.

The biggest loss was that of Hoyden who is missed everyday, though the goldfish are delightful and a lot less maintenance they lack the character or the black and white furry feline friend who got so sick. Of course their have been lows and no I don’t mean giving up the fags that was quite easy. The credit crisis came in your time though you had already taught me the value of money and shown me the error in my ways early on so in some ways I was prepared. You taught me many things actually gave me confidence through the meeting and greeting of work.

I stuck with the resolutions (all two of them) that I made to you when we started out. I said ‘yes’ to almost everything within reason whereas before I had been far more inclined to say no. This meant facing my fears some big ones that now seem small like flying, wow we have travelled together America, Switzerland, Paris and Barcelona where sadly you deserted me. Small ones that now seem big such as telling certain people they were out of order when no one else would and some of these people being very close to me. They have all worked out for the better and what a learning curve. You have watched my confidence grow though I hope not to arrogant levels, I still am not the best in new company but I will work on it. You taught me to not accept the unacceptable one example which probably sounds banal is that having a leak in your roof for 12 months and no fridge for three means that you should move house. In a funny way as well as saying yes more you also told me when saying no is just as important.

My other resolution of living life to the full I think I have done as much as I could. I have no regrets at all from our time together and that isn’t something that you can say that often after twelve months. So thank you. I am sure there are many things I have missed out and sorry if that’s the case, there have been a lot of things we’ve witnessed and its hard to keep track. One thing that I will carry over to your replacement is a new resolution to stop procrastinating, something I should have tried harder at with you. Like Matt Smith with David Tennant (sorry had to get this in some how) 2009 has got a tough act to follow, how will it be done I guess we will see.

So thank you 2008 you were great. I’ll miss you a lot but treasure your memory fondly.

Simon x

P.S
Sorry it’s taken me a few days to write this I guess it has taken me a long time for it to sink in that you are really gone. That and possibly some of the procrastination I mentioned before.

The Boys Are Back In Town

2009-01-02T19:55:00.012Z

The Conclusion of the Honeymoon Diaries

So I am back, back from the sunny delights of Spain to the rain and gloom of London. As we were landing I had the briefest thought that the pilot had been wrong saying that London was two degrees and covered in mist, he was right. Mind you Stanstead is not quite London and it did clear up on the Express Train (how is an hour and several stops express?) but it’s not the hot sun of Barcelona.

When we left Barcelona there was no sun in sight as it was the delicious hour of 5am, that’s 4am British time and thanks to the lovely Joan who we had befriended from Boyberry (a DVD rental and internet shop with cabins is all I will say) we had a tour of the gay area of Barcelona and all the bars and hotels who completely spoiled us with booze meaning that we ended up going to bed at 1am very drunk and still feeling slightly merry at 5am.

I slept on the coach to Reus and when I awoke at the airport it hit me I was leaving. Our last day had been very leisurely, mainly as on New Years Day everything was shut. We went up Montjuic and I braved a cable car and then strolled down the mountain to the marina for a final wander around the town via the Picasso Museum. Picasso is my ultimate favourite artist, I just love his work and after the disaster of the closed museum in Paris, I had been patiently waiting to see the Barcelona museum. We hadn’t gone up until now as Mr B doesn’t enjoy art galleries and there were a lot of other things on offer. We got there… it was closed. I think the heavens might be telling me something. I didn’t have a tantrum though, just sighed in the resolve that it wasn’t meant to be, plus gives me another reason to go back to one of my favourite cities.

So now the honeymoon is over what happens next? They never tell you that in fairy tales, in fact they never go past the wedding and ‘all living happily ever after’. I mean we have a curry and then Celebrity Big Brother and an early night lined up, I am not sure if that was what happened with Snow White, Elizabeth Bennett (oh come on it’s almost a fairy tale) or Cinderella. Though I was obsessed with fairy tales (don’t think the irony has been missed) as a 26 (almost 27) year old cynic I know happy endings don’t always happen. Watch this space I guess. Actually what was nice when coming through customs was that the guard, who are normally formidable and look at you as if you have no right to come to the UK even if it’s your homeland let alone if its not, said that we looked ‘incredibly happy together, it must have been a lovely honeymoon’ and it was and a wonderful way to start a new year.

Now it's back to the real world, work, bills and I have also been dared and accepted to do one of the biggest projects in ages, nothing grand, but something big and quite special. I'll probably blog about that over the weekend once its finishing touches are done, plus I really need to work on my New Years Resolutions. Until then here are some pictures and then I will stop boring you with all things Barcelona I promise.

The gorgeous hotel room

The husband on the beach

Me on top of Gaudi's Casa Mila

New Years Eve 2008 drunk on very cheap lager in the marina, just as it should be

Mr B having Champagne Breakfast to celebrate the New Year eight hours into it

A pair of complete honeymoon tourists (but very happy ones)

I'll stop there as could go on forever.

Feliz Año Nuevo

2009-01-01T14:29:00.002Z

Part Three of the Honeymoon Diaries

Watching the reflections of fireworks on the ocean, the streets smelling of Sangria and the noise of many revellers and men selling "cheap beer peoples cheap beer". The countdown was over and everyone was yelling and dancing and kissing and hugging. The silver fish in the ocean couldnt give a damn and carried on their frantic and eye catching display of hunting for food, streaks of silver everywhere. That was how 2009 started and hopefully its a sign of things to come. I have never had a New Years away from England before so this is quite something.

One odd thing we are hoping was part fo the festivities, bar letting fireworks off in the middle of the street regardless of where they were aimed or who at, was a weird sight we noted on La Ramblas. A huge crowd had circled round some men throwing all the used bottles in his direction though not at him. He then shouted at everyone asking them to hit him and throw more and harder. I found this very odd and slightly archaic, but then we were in the gothic area of town. If anyone knows what this ritual is please let me know!!

I wont re-live the highs, lows and changes of 2008 yet, I am far too busy enjoying being completely lazy and chilled and forgetting all my cares and though am shamed to admit it being a complete tourist. Yes I ended up on those tourist buses I hate with the earphones in snuggled up to Mr B with the excuse that all I had on was my bloody cardigan. Mr B looked mortified and said ´but baby its D&G!" I didnt realise that meant they could automatically be worn in the artic. The weather has been fabulous, serious sunshine, I have the well known "Beetroot Savidge" face going on.

It seemed weird when we suddenly got dolled up, both remembering to wear red underwear as is the spanish tradion at New Year, and were ready for a night on the town that what we ere getting dolled up for was the end of 2008 its run by so quick.

I did notice yesterday that there has been a shift in me somewhere during the past 12 months and yesterday I seemed to throw caution to the wind in hitting my fears right where it hurts. I went up a total of 8 lifts (and back down again )not including the hotel ones, I went on two funicular railways (I find the ´fun´part in their name highly ironic) that were very bloody steep and very bloody rickety. I went to the top fo a huge church all 12 stories on a mountain 500,000 feat above sea level with nothing higher than the neighbouring snow capped mountains. I also went on 4 rollercoasters on said mountain. I think in 2009 forget "Beetroot Savidge " you´d better get ready to be calling me "No Fear Savidge!"

Right am off to recooperate with Anna Karenina on the roof by and possibly in the pool! Hope you and yours had a fabulous one? Wishing you all every happiness in 2009!!

Parrot Procreation and Press Prize Pull Offs

2008-12-31T19:54:00.003Z

Part Two Of The Honeymoon Diaries

"Look baby... they are doing rude things... look baby... look sixty nine... look baby he´s going for it!" Mr B it appeared was rather enthralled in the parrots of Barcelona´s parks. These were not the ones in the Zoo we were heading for, I know I know you go to a new city and head for the Zoo as it was it wasnt free so I wasnt going in! Now I have seen parrots in Hampstead, Kew but nothing as loud or frankly as racy as this. Mr B was thinking of home as we strolled through the palm trees gazing a provocative parrots and eating mango gelato´s. Parrots in Brazil are apparently much more common, much bigger and make much more noise... show offs.

The stroll was much needed as we spent the first 4 hours of our sunny Tuesday indoors. First port of call was the tourism office, no not the tourist information, goes straight to the head honcho´s does Mr Savidge. The wait for almost an hour in reception was worth it after a delightful coffee and natter myself and my beloved left the building with press packs and most importantly press passes. Big perk of the job... well there has to be some. This means we now have free entry to all attractions and forms of transport yippee!

Sadly being press doesnt mean you can queue jump (selfish) and so we queued for almost 40mins just to get into the Sagrada Familia, we decided not to bother queueing the two hours to get a lift to the top, naturally with my loathing of heights I was gutted! It has changed since I last came 13 years ago, but not masses, I will definately come back to see it done in 2020, a little bit of a hopeful date of completion me thinks. Its a complete masterpiece though.

Post parrot porn we went not to the Cathedral, the Picasso Museum, one of the mountains. No we went to the Aquarium and despite my snobish ´why´when Mr B pleaded I am glad we did. You dont get to pet penguins in London! It was awesome. Alexs second choice wasnt. I dont think I would have enjoyed ´Dinosaurs Alive in 3D´even if it had been in English. A chocolate donut covered in mint choc chip shut me up!

We came out to seriously hardcore glorious sunshine, and so we hit the beach. I will tell you all my issue with sand another time but I braved it and we frollicked, well strolled, along the shore and for the first time it felt totally like I think a honeymoon should. Hand in hand in the sand, that will be my fondest memory of 2008, or possibly when Mr B got stuck as a rogue wave sucked him in. I laughed and laughed it was just bliss and there was me thinking I would kill him with so much time just us two. I currently dont want to come back! After braving sand I was on such a high I thought I should brave heights and go up the twelve floors to get the cable car from one side of the sea to the other, incredibly high, incredibly wobbly, sadly it had closed, again I was gutted hahaha!

Note: I would talk about dinner but it was so bad (I actually demanded to see the manager which is so not me) I think I should leave you on a high rather than a moan. After dinner we swam on the roof, in a pool obviously, looking at the stars and the moon and freezing our bits off...maybe thats my favourite memory of 2008????

Oh and as am a day behind in blogs, and on a themed note, have a very very Happy Nude Year!

The Barcelona Burger ID Scandal

2008-12-30T08:54:00.003Z

Part One of the Honeymoon Diaries

Could the honeymoon period of the honeymoon already be over? Yesterday morning I had the strangest feeling it could, then I finally took my extra strong valium and everything was fine. Yes the belated honeymoon is here and thanks to Ryanair it almost ended in tears before it had even begun. Their website wouldn’t let us book an additional bag for some reason, and as Mr B is from a non EU country we couldn’t check in online meaning we have now been charged an addition forty quid each way. (i cant do pound signs on this Spanish keyboard and if my spelling is bad, well slightly worse than normal its because the spell check thinks everything am writing is wrong.) So after that we hoped it would all be plane sailing (geddit?) sadly we were delayed, delayed, flight changed, flight cancelled, terminal changed and then suddenly in the air… just as my drugs wore off. The flight though bar the vile yellow and blue theme and horrific endless selling and jingles was great. I have to say I thanked the lord I had 4 weeks of The Archers to catch up on downloaded on my iPod, I think I have finally found the answer to my flying phobia... Big doses of Ambridge Farm.

So finally yesterday afternoon we arrived in Barcelona, well when I say Barcelona I actually mean Reus. Reus is not Barcelona, don’t believe a word anyone at Easyjet or Ryanair say Reus IS SIMPLY NOT IN BARCELONA. We know this from the almost two hours it took to get from Reus to Barcelona at the small cost of thirty euro´s. We musn´t complain though, we are here safe and sound. We finally got to the hotel at 7pm meaning we had missed a day. It is an amazing hotel (will do a photo blog when back) the breakfast this morning was amazing, the room has different themed lightings and everything works via switches next to the bed, very Austin Powers.

Like pure tourists we were no sooner rid of our luggage than asking the receptionist the way to a McDonalds. We were starving and after endless journeys we´d had no more than a blinking cheese and ham toastie all day. Now we know that when you are away from home things arent quite the same and I normally like that. The chicken burger thing they are doing here, for example, beats anything in a maccy d´s back home. When you come to pay you dont expect the words "do you have any ID?" Fortunately we did.

This kept happening and for a while Mr B and myself were thinking ´wow, we must look so young´a lovely lady put us right in the local supermarket where we had gone for hotel must haves water, juice, crisps and chocolates... oh and a new favourite ´Don Simon Sangria´. She told us "we have to ask as your cards are foreign and their is so much theft in Barcelona streets we never know if its yours or not!" Well that filled us with christmas cheer and hope. We laughed about it, and the day in general on the way back to the hotel. We realised we were shattered, well it had been an eventful 24 hours. We were in bed asleep by 9pm UK time.

Now well slept, full of cheeses and meats, I am caffined up and raring to go and have more adventures. I think today is the big massive cathedrale and the seaside!

Oh note: A certain person said that bloggiong about being away is the biggest invite for burglars at your flat, so any thieving b**stards around... we have flat sitters in! I thank you!

Chrimbo Catch Up

2008-12-27T14:25:00.003Z

In the time it takes to run a bath, in what seems to have been the only free hour for weeks and weeks, I thought I would catch up with you all and firstly wish you a belated Merry Christmas (insert picture of Mr B and myself looking like silly elves – oh I have). We both have some form of mild food poisoning at the moment so in the flesh don’t look so chipper… and no it was not my Christmas cooking.
I did have a small myspace holiday as it was all just getting too much but I am back. I hope you are all well and had a delicious Christmas? Christmas Day was a very quiet affair this year. Just me and Mr B at home for our first Christmas as husband and husband, and actually it was perfect apart from a small glitch when I opened my presents and already had them all. Moving swiftly on, I really enjoyed things being so simple. I know Christmas is a family time and though I love my mother and step dad when it comes to being cooped up in their log cabin (though idyllic) in the middle of nowhere in Shropshire with two teenagers and two under elevens, certain cracks begin to show in our relationship and things can get a bit tense. This year saw me at possibly my calmest. I even managed to pull off my first ever proper Christmas dinner. The husband said that my maple syrup glazed roast carrots and parsnips were heavenly and my brussel sprouts, chestnuts and pancetta (or bacon – thanks Nigella) were a taste sensation, which from him being a bit of a food buff was quite the compliment. The highest compliment of all was that he said it was better than my mum’s, naturally I told her this and she has now decided to up the ‘evil mother in law routine’ for 2009.

Speaking of my mother she came for the weekend before Christmas and we had the loveliest time. There was the London Eye, well Mr B took the children on the London Eye whilst my mother and I sat in a café and caught up. This was the first time we had been alone together, no kids or partners or anyone, for THREE years, and it was really nice sipping and gossiping. We then, thanks to the ex, got tickets for Panto after a delicious Italian in Wimbledon, if the amount of wine I drank in said evening hadn’t riddled my brain I would recommend the venue but I have forgotten the name. Cinderella was good, Gareth Gates could sing but not act and Stacey from Gavin & Stacey (I don’t know her real name) could act but not sing, somehow it worked. That could of course be down to the amount of alcohol we drank my mother is certainly using that for the excuse as why she slept through a lot of it. The ugly stepsisters stole the show.

In other news bulletins from the busy goings on in December; I have been working on the new issue of Bent and need Bears, yes big gay bears please, please contact me if you’re interested. Am currently thrilled as February will be my 4th cover feature in a year (by this I mean the cover picture feature, I have actually had at least two of my features on the cover every month), which in my first proper year I think isn’t half bad and I don’t normally blow my own trumpet but am feeling quite proud.

I found my own porn double. Now I am seriously not making this up. For the Bear issue Triga sent me some gifts and in one I was confronted with almost myself on screen. To say it was odd was an understatement, to then have your husband ask ‘oh my god have you done a porn film’ and give you funny looks for the rest of the day is bizarre. He did also do this with Mark from Westlife only then he wanted to know if secretly I was in a boyband. I think the lesson is my husband is crazy.

I took the lovely Dom Agius to see Boy George who was awful. The venue was dire and so were his singing and song choices. I was really disappointed as had been really looking forward to it. We left before the interval and went for a beer or two and a gossip in the Kings Arms instead, much better.

I did some temping, as a) research b) was bored c) wanted extra Christmas cash which after tax was royally pointless, during my extended Christmas break from the magazine. I realised I don’t really like anyone other than me being my boss but did invent some fun games to play such as;
- Spot the gay staff
- How to look really busy when you’re not doing anything and no one is giving you anything to do or any eye contact as your not really worth it
- Getting lost, well it takes up time
- Staring off a member of staff who spills tea everywhere until they understand via the power of mind reading/facial expression
that ‘no I am not going to clean that up, you made the mess, you f**king clean it yourself’ all whilst somehow smiling sweetly
I think maybe I should stop in case I ever decide to do this malarkey again and someone from one of the companies spots me and reads this! It was interesting though and I did come away with four chapters under my belt and three wonderful characters. Plus it paid for all Mr B’s presents whilst leaving me able to get myself a Blackberry so it was worth it in its own way.

I went off the Christmas tangent there sorry. Well the bath is run and I need a long relaxing soak, so again a belated Happy Christmas and I again promise to be better at blogging I think everyone is just too manic at the mo. Hope you all ate drank and were merry and got all the presents you wished for!

Birthdays and Anniversaries

2008-12-05T10:45:00.000Z

I have been meaning to write a few blogs this week but it all seems to have gone by ridiculously quickly and what with birthdays, Girls Aloud events, a fabulous strop at said event (not by me, but I don’t tell tales), being frozen for 90% of the week, catching the ‘bug’ and some antics involving theft of a traffic cone its been quite a week and its only Friday morning. I am sadly still feeling like death warmed up but am back in the blogosphere.

Last Sunday was Mr B’s birthday; it also happens that the same day as our anniversary. Yes Mr B was lucky enough to have me pretty much in a big drunken bow as his 27th birthday present when we came face to face on a dancefloor and I frowned at him… I was trying to get to the bar. The dancefloor in question is one that is soon to be knocked down just like our wedding ‘masked ball’ venue will be... is that telling us something? Anyway people always say ‘oh its so romantic that you met on his birthday’ (unless you happen to be my Gran who reminded me that my mother met her first husband on his birthday and he died before they were married seven months, she’s special my Gran). You either get the ‘romantic view’ or you get people who make vomit signs, which is what I would do if it wasn’t me involved in all honesty.

It does have a certain romance about it, well when you tell people that is, and true enough some people could use the word fate or destiny or simply ‘a sweet coincidence’. In reality not so much, especially after being together a while, the novelty wears of and instead you are left with a very strange unbalancing equilibrium of present buying and over compensating. For example the rules are a bit off, I mean you shouldn’t really have to be buying someone else presents on your birthday should you? There is of course a massive row waiting to be had over who will pay the bill over lunch and/or dinner, with one of you wanting to buy as an anniversary or birthday treat, the other trying to pay as an anniversary treat, it gets very confusing and it gets very vexing.

There is also the problem that one of you might not like birthdays at it brings back some sad memories and makes you think about where your life is going. On my birthday getting older isn’t really on my mind as I have hit the spirits by 11am in an aim to get the damn day over as quickly as possible as intoxicated as possible. This year was a hard one as it was the first without Bong. Mr B still misses his mother so much and when no one else in your family even bothers to call I think it made him feel particularly uncelebratory. Now this leads to one of you wanting to spend the day in bed curtains closed and shutting out the world. The other one of you is off running out to buy a birthday breakfast and some final presents and being all excited about the day ahead filling it with plans and expectations. It leads to rows, irritation and in the case of this year sulks in the bath, refusals to go out at all in the evening and a chicken being thrown. I won’t say who did what but I did one of the above.

I wondered whether it was the fact that the day was an anti-climax. You know, when you have things to celebrate I feel that I should be on cloud nine all day – not realistic but that’s the way that my mind works. I mean on my wedding day I was so insistent everyone else was having a good time it took me a while to relax and have one myself. By 7pm we weren’t speaking, he was lurking downstairs whilst I prowled upstairs. It wasn’t the fun we intended. Now I don’t know how it happened, I think I got the giggles over a stray piece of chicken that fell from the ceiling and landing on Mr B but before we knew it we were laughing hysterically all the way to the curry house. We didn’t fight over the bill, we simply relaxed and remembered the most important thing, not the presents or the ‘forced best day’ just being together and ourselves, it just so happened one of us had gotten a small bit older and maybe should have known better, sorry I had to get that in there.

Surgery

2008-11-25T19:45:00.001Z

Some people I know think that I am crazy to be having surgery next year. Particularly after a cancerous few years, these involved five operations in all, none of which were nice. However I am always up for something new, and am always up for something free (though I don't mind paying - like I am to have a new set of teeth in Brazil next Feb) and when you get offered the chance for some free cosmetic surgery well why say no plus as a project that's not for Bent and for something bigger and more visual (that's all am saying) it would be good for my career - not that you need surgery to be a roving reporter etc.

I had been told I could have anything done I wanted up to a certain budget. The ones that they had sent me the facts on were 'Intelligent Lipo', 'Non Evasive Face Lift', 'Botox', 'Chemical Peel' and 'Macrolane To The Penis' the latter didn't even seem bearable no matter what macrolane was. I never got to find out actually.

So off I went to see a specialist thinking 'oh this could be fun, you don't get the chance of this everyday'. I didn't expect it to open up the question 'how happy am I with my own body' which is a veritable can of worms. Well liposuction is of course and instant tick box, especially as this is a new form of liposuction that means less custardy lumps and bruising, yay, yay and thrice yay. That was not a hard choice to make. Botox, well why not lets give it a whirl. When I went to see the surgeon who is doing a non evasive facelift (no knives, no staples and only lasts six months) I didn't realise my faults would be pointed out so calmly and slightly bluntly. I am all for bluntness, if you are my friend... otherwise back off.

Bags under my eyes I could deal with, I am after all in quite a stressful job and at the moment doing two issues of the magazine in less time that we do one I have been loosing sleep. I don't give a monkey's about laughter lines as they show I have a sense of humour and laugh a lot. 'You know you could do with a nose job' he said 'looks like it could be smoothed out'. I wanted to tell him this is from when one of my delightful ex-boyfriends and I ended up in a fight and my nose was broken by him and broken back by a very handsome nurse and that actually I learnt a valuable lesson that day about men and this was a scar to remember it. I looked in the mirror, god do I have an ugly nose, self doubt started creeping in!

A few rooms later sat in my pants I felt like Samantha from Sex and the City when she gets covered in crosses going to see what she should have done to her face. Well this was my whole body, I looked like a noughts and crosses jumbo annual. This was thanks to Liposuction Man who I personally felt had gone a bit far. 'You could have laser surgery on those stretch marks' no, I haven't had a baby but yes after being on some certain drugs and lots of bed rest I am not the slender spring chicken I once was but life goes on and at least I am not dead. My patience was lessening.

'Oh and that scar on your back, we could get rid of that. The scar on my back is from a growth being taken from my spine, they filled it with a foot of gauze I will have you know... very impressive! I call this my war wound, yes its ugly some scar tissue is but it reminds me of something, well in theory it does, I cant actually see it most of the time. It reminds me of what was a very scary and worrying time in my life and how the horrid little vain nbitchy queen I was grew up and changed for the better - well I hope so anyways.

One thing that did lift my spirits, stroke my ego and make me chuckle (reluctantly at the time) was when he said 'so… will you be wanting the macrolane to the penis…' we both looked down to the offending article and he said 'oh no I see we might not need that' now as flattered as I was (I gave him the biggest smirk I could muster) I did want to say to him 'that nothing compared to when they thought I had something cancerous down there and the swelling caused the x-ray man to snigger'. I also wanted to add 'I have had one operation down there and seriously you couldn't pay me to do anything to that, unless death was the only other option'. I just got dressed and left in a flurry or grumpyness, so much so I never asked what the heck macrolane was.

Having taken some time to think on it I am still having a little lipo and Botox though just for research purposes you understand; I will still look exactly the same only slightly expressionless for a few weeks, but for now at least I am leaving it at that. What made me make this decision? Well...

After a bath and a soaking sulk plus some serious scrubbing to remove the surgeons felt tip marks from all over me I stood in front of the mirror and I thought 'do you know what, I might not be the buffest or thinnest of men, I might have scars and marks but my body tells a history of me and I think I like it just the way it is.' I have nothing against those people who choose to have full on surgery in fact I am going to be meeting a fair few, I am just not letting myself be put under pressure by any one or any surgeon to go that bit further.

The Case of the Missing Parcels

2008-11-24T10:56:00.000Z

I feel like I might have to become one of my all time hero’s and literary icons Sherlock Holmes for deep in the Tooting massive something odd and quite worrying seems to be happening. Letters are arriving at my home but now a whopping ten parcels have apparently ‘gone missing’. Should they have all been sent on the same day then I might think ‘oh a post box was set fire to by ruffians at a specific address’ or ‘oh dear maybe a postman or post van spontaneously combust’ but no as its on various different dates of these being sent it appears this isn’t the case.

In fact as Royal Mail have told me ‘if it hasn’t been 15 days then it’s not lost, some post can take 15 days’. Does this not scream of being slightly wrong? I thought we paid for first class stamps in order that they turned up the next day… not within the next 15? Maybe this is a secret only people working at Royal Mail know, like a secret handshake or non-specific nod? I think if this is the case it should be made slightly more public.

I normally don’t worry about post however one parcel is over one hundred pounds worth of books. I know, I know the sender should have sent them recorded delivery minimal, especially as they are now saying they won’t send replacements, I won’t mention names but Bloomsbury books you know who you are, whoops did I just out them? One email did make me laugh ‘seeing as we sent them to the address stated it seems pointless to send them again as they won’t turn up’ I can oddly see the logic I am still incredibly unimpressed. However its not just them its several other publishers and also some PR firms, I am wondering if the post man is going around with fabulous hardback or twenty resting on his trolley around Tooting whilst humming to Same Difference, Britney or Kanye West (aren’t I eclectic) blasting through his headphones?

There is a darker side to this that I am unsure as to whether to even open the can of worms to. All the parcels had ‘Bent Magazine’ written on, now I don’t play the homophobic card often its just seems odd that post merely addressed to me seems to arrive as long as it’s no thicker than a bill. It’s all very peculiar. They haven’t gone to head office in a random London = Leeds confusion, I have checked. Of course they could be sat in the sorting office with no ‘sorry we missed you card’ having been slipped through my slot, or maybe it went to another same numbered house on this road that is actually a separate road (complex but true) or maybe the shop has it next door? I just can’t imagine ten parcels getting lost on separate days can you?

With that I shall get my cape, pipe and deerstalker and go and investigate.

Special Needs Pets

2008-11-21T12:59:00.001Z

I don’t now if anyone else watched this last night on the delightful channel 4 but it was one of the oddest TV shows I have seen for ages. ‘Special Needs Pets’ looking to the households who look after, well, pets with special needs. Now I am a bit of a cat lover and quite happily confess that I will possibly end up in a bungalow smelling of cat wee surrounded by forty cats (heaven help me when I do a feature at Battersea Dogs Home next week) in my jungle like back garden and home.

This show worried me, really worried me. Not in the fact that quite clearly these people loved their pets for indeed every single owner seemed greatly concerned for their pets but in some cases this bordered on keeping their pet for their own emotions and not for the fairness of the pet. Some stories were lovely for example Katie the Jack Russell whose brain wasn’t sending the right messages to her legs and was toppling over quite often. She was bought a wonderful dog like wheelchair for her back legs and was soon charging around the garden like a new born pup rather than a elderly dog and using a stair lift to get anywhere her wheels wouldn’t let her. I also loved the lady who might become a small icon of mine who was a veterinary nurse and who saved cats with special needs, she had twelve but wasn’t ‘a crazy cat lady, so don’t you say it’. I would say for ten of the cats it was fine, for two of them I had a moment of sadness one dragged its back legs and one just couldn’t walk properly and kept falling over. However she worked for a vet and so I thought she must have a good insight.

Two cases completely disturbed me. No not the masturbating parrot or the parrot who was balding from grief of the loss of one of his owners – did you know parrots are the pet most prone to mental problems? You learn something new every day.

The cases that disturbed me were one of a rabbit who was paralysed from the waist down and wore a nappy couldn’t walk and could only be kept in a fairly small cage, wrong, completely and utterly wrong. The woman made the valid point that you wouldn’t put a disabled person down, you could argue back some people choose to euthanasia in certain circumstances. The one out of all of them that to me seemed the cruellest was some idiot posh accountant whose cat had a horrific accident. The cat was left unable to go to the toilet by itself bar occasionally wetting itself. So the owner would pummel and push its stomach three times a day until it did its business. Now I have owned a lot of cats but even if you haven’t, it doesn’t take a genius to work out that if the cat is screaming and screaming while you have to empty its stomach its not really having a good quality of life… don’t even get me started on its nappy wearing. The owner said the cat had ‘dignity’ funny it didn’t want to cuddle him ever.

I know how hard it is to make the decision to put a pet down, I had to make the decision earlier in the year with Hoyden as she was clearly unhappy even though the vet said she could last a few more months, said vet did also make me feel like the worst cat owner in history for the second time, I’ll come back to the first shortly. It was horrible to choose whether your pet lives or dies but you need to be completely unselfish and think what’s best for the animal. I chose what was right for Hoyden even though it killed me inside.

There was one other couple I felt sorry for and that was the couple with the overweight cat Boris, I think it was called Boris? Their vet, like mine (this was when he first made me feel like the worst owner on earth with Thisbe Hoyden’s sister) told them that they were over feeding their incredibly fat cat and that they were killing it. I got really angry at this as Thisbe was huge, she made floorboards creak in fact I will add a picture so you all know how fat she was, and every diet I put her on she stayed fat. I played with her till the cows came home and to no avail. As you can now see…
People and pets, what can you do?

Under The Depths of London Bridge

2008-11-19T19:44:00.000Z

I remember on Saturday night thinking quite clearly as I stepped down into the dark ‘the things I do for bloody charity’ that was in the 20 minutes calm before Polly, Mr B and Michelle were all screaming their heads off, I wasn’t screaming of course – far too butch and brave for that. You’re right I am completely lying I was screaming and a few seconds before the doors to the tomb closed you might have possibly heard me mutter ‘why did we f-ing go first, I might s**t myself’ it was by then of course too late.

I was of course back in the London Tombs I obviously can’t keep away, even after almost wetting myself with fear walking round the London Bridge Experience upstairs in the daytime with a torch and then screaming my head off down in the tombs where things come to get you. I don’t know whether going back down knowing what was coming made things worse or not? To see Polly and Michelle scream that much was a pure delight even if it did include Michelle walking backwards on my toes every ten minutes but not letting me let go of her, it was like a strange for of torture for us all. Last time was just the two of us which was bad but in a group its worse, in one room we were all screaming… at nothing but ourselves. Corporations should definitely take newly bound teams down there; I was hugging men I had never met before in fear, well that was my excuse.

The tombs were discovered when they were building what was going to be a Dickensian Restaurant Attraction. They were digging out one of the many vaults under London Bridge to build a wine cellar when they found skulls and bones, after tests were conducted they found that they were two different types, some were plague victims and they had come across a plague pit, others further down were skulls only with a hole in the roof… traitors for traitors gate. No sooner had these been discovered than odd things started happening and eventually a group of big burly builders quit in fear. (For the sceptical I have seen the invoices for jobs half done and the letters.) So the owners decided to make it into a scream attraction, I advise everyone to go its brilliant.

St Johns Ambulance had setup the whole spooky sleepover to raise money in a new and fresh way and it really worked. The first part of the evening was as have said going on the two levelled attraction before a delightful buffet. We then had time with a proper paranormal investigation team where Mr B and Polly looked completely unimpressed but Michelle and I got dowsing and also became an interrogation squad of sorts to the poor medium. Well I have always wanted to ask a medium so many questions so I didn’t hold back. I couldn’t work out if he thought I was being serious when I asked ‘can you switch it off, I mean they would talk to you all the time otherwise and you might be on the toilet or something?’ It was a genuine question, I remember before Bong died and he knew it was coming, he said ‘I will come and hover around you know’ I said ‘remember there is a time and a place’.

We then got a second walk around with Ghost Stories; the actor was really good the choice of stories wasn’t. I mean The Picture of Dorian Gray is a great story but is it a ghost story… not so much. There were some great stories just none that actually scared me, but in one of the rooms something did scare me. I got what I can only describe as a ‘bwuuurrrrgggggghhhhh’ really loudly in my ear and almost… well you can guess. No one was behind me, Mr B thought he had heard it sat on the floor next to me, I felt awful as I kicked him thinking it was him. We had a break and then did a séance in the depths of the tombs, they didn’t want to play, but then three members of the circle fell asleep and it was only bloody 3am!

We got back upstairs and realised that by sleepover they meant sleep, in my head it was ghost hunting until dawn. Everyone started scuttling off to sleep in safe warm rooms! Fortunately James the Manager I met before was on shift and after asking him a very important question (who had been kicked off the X Factor) as he had the internet. He then asked if we wanted a private tour just the four of us and him. It was great we went into private areas, walked the tombs in the dark was definitely my favourite hour and a half of the evening. Pretty soon though we were flagging so got out or sleeping bags curled up as a four in one of the dark spooky rooms and tried to sleep. I found the companionship of two suits of armour slightly off putting… but we coped and before we knew it, it was 8am, we’d managed it and we were hardcore.

Now if you want to sponsor us as its all done you still can (hint, hint) just visit http://www.justgiving.com/theghoulies you have till January, but the sooner the better lol.

The Blindest of Dates

2008-11-18T22:53:00.000Z

I have never really considered what it would be like to be blind; I have considered what it would be like to be deaf as one of ex-boyfriends Pete was deaf. My mum dated someone very briefly who was blind, well I think she dated him I might be wrong they might have been ‘good friends’, and I remember dancing with him like a crazy thing at a Wedding disco, he also told me of his parachute jumps. I suppose with meeting such a positive role model I didn’t think being blind could be that difficult, I suppose I thought it would be dark obviously however now the idea of not being able to read a book or use the internet or see my little siblings smiling faces.

Two things have made me think about blindness recently one was the fact that my mother at the ripe young age of 42 has found out that she is getting early cataracts (which could be hereditary) and could in her old age go blind. There have been a lot of tears partly because my mum still believes she is nineteen, she had a girls only disco in the pub she is converting for her last birthday and is throwing a concert for my step dad for his 50th in their field. Rock on ha! The other tears I think were frustration and also the idea that reading would one day not happen. My Gran reminds us that you will never read all the books you want to in your life. I can imagine my favourite writer releasing a book and me popping my clocks a week before, bugger. I digress… my mothers current state has made me think about how I would feel in that situation.

The other thing that made me think was when I went out for dinner at ‘Dans Le Noir’ last Wednesday for a function. The premise behind ‘Dans Le Noir’ is eating in the very pitchest of pitch black. The staff who serve you are all blind and the idea is you not only have no idea what you are eating but that you also experience what it is like to be blind. It was one of the most eye opening experiences of my life, quite literally, and also taught me a lot about myself.

Now I admit when I am in a group of people I am someone who watches rather than jumps headlong into a conversation. I am not nervous about meeting new people, it wouldn’t be advisable in my job and actually oddly at work I come out of my own more to build a rapport with an interviewee. With my friends I am quite loud blunt and up for a laugh. However in the pitch black, I swear you can see nothing, I found myself not only checking my own personal space but also going even more insular. Ten minutes before at the bar with a few cocktails in me I had been nattering to everyone. Now sat at the table I was saying nothing and actually sat elbow on the table (no one could see my bad manners) chin resting on my wrist and hand in front of my mouth. I felt completely vulnerable.

Now when you are blinded your other senses magnify, the first few minutes after having followed the waitress loosing all sense of where I was and then having to work out how to sit on my chair and not fall off it I was astounded by how loud everything was. It was completely off putting. I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t hear who was next to me from someone on the other side of the restaurant because everyone talks louder to speak over everyone else. It almost makes your headache. I then spent a good ten minutes working out where everything was making sure I could feel where my glasses and cutlery where, I noticed I redid this every three minutes. It teaches you a lot about yourself and gives you a very rare insight that I will take away with me.

There was of course the food. Now while I enjoyed the idea of not knowing what I was eating the reality wasn’t so sweet, well apart from the desert. I did make the valid point that blind people do know what food they like and would choose something they wanted. However being up for anything I gave it a go. The starter started well… oh a lovely salad and then I bit into what I can only describe as warm crispy fat and not in a pleasant cracking kind of way, in a deep fried lard kind of way. I admit I might have heaved a little. The main course was better lamb, vegetables and some lovely chicken like mushrooms, kidney I can cope with liver I cannot, weirdly I could tell what all the flavours were, well so I thought. In fact bar a small incident of thinking a lime was a tomato it was fine. The pudding of Mango Sorbet and Chocolate Mousse was a doddle.

It wasn’t until the next day when I found the starter was foie gras and that the ‘chicken flavoured mushrooms’ were in fact snails that I suddenly felt slightly violated. It was certainly an experience though and bar a moment of panicking that ‘what if I go back in the light and I have gone blind’ I have never been so relieved to see the harsh glare of a light bulb. At least it prepared me for 12 hours locked in a tomb under London last Saturday night though... more on that soon.

Deidre Savidge... What A Coincidence!

2008-11-11T12:41:00.000Z

I have never been a great believer in fate, although many people think my meeting my now husband was fate. I had been drinking at the Christmas Party at a previous employer’s from lunchtime and at midnight my assistant decided we must go to GAY. I wasn’t up for it to be honest. However, there my eyes met (over a sticky dirty drunken dance floor) Mr B’s and something fizzled. Mr B himself had been dragged out for his birthday by his friends when he had wanted a quiet night in. I guess both of us being dragged to a place we didn’t want to go and meeting is a kind of fate. Fate however is meant to be quite romantic and not contain the sentences of ‘sorry, who are you?’ or ‘seriously you don’t have to call me or swap numbers’ the next morning, but Mr B persisted but I have gone off on a slight tangent.

I am a believer in coincidence and I dont mean the 'what a coincidence' of Muriels father and Deidre Chambers. For example the fact that when Polly (my best friend of 23 years) and myself became best friends at school we found out my Mum and her Dad were at the same school together in Matlock, more of Matlock later. If I hadn’t been a believer in coincidence before this week has proven it.

On Saturday I went to see Blowing Whistles (which was ok not great, I do now have a large crush on Paul Keating though) and whilst Mr B took time to have a fag in the interval, I was reading my book when I heard ‘Simon!’ I looked around and there was the delightful Mr Burston and his husband Paulo. Now myself and Paul have bumped into each other at Spamalot and Joan Rivers on press nights, yet this wasn’t a press night it was just a random Saturday show. In all the theatres in all of the West End they had to walk into mine… what a small world but a beautiful one as I love Paul and Paulo and we had a lovely chat on the way to Leicester Square.

We waved them off as they descended into the Northern Line, whilst it was my call that Mr B and I have a Burger King, I am mid-ordering my Bacon Double Cheese meal when I hear a shriek of ‘Simon!’ and its my friend Holly Rose (she’s also a popstar, her version of Minnie Ripperton’s ‘Inside My Love’ is amazing and out next year) who lives in Hertfordshire and I haven’t seen for ages, well since the wedding. I think our ‘mutual love in’ and shrieking camped up Burger King no end.

However what has pushed coincidence into new heights was Tuesday. I had an interview booked with the lovely Christopher Green aka Tina C/Ida Barr. At work I am known for doing my research on the day or the night before as I like it fresh in my mind. So when looking on Wikipedia I see he is from Matlock, my home town, though I am technically Matlock Bath - believe me up there the valley dividing the two makes all the difference. So I phone my aunties and ask them if they went to school with anyone called Christopher Green? Now before you say ‘how rude, he is only in his 30’s’ can I add my mother is the eldest and she is 42, so it’s not that rude it actually makes sense. By chance when I spoke to Alice (she’s just had twins) she had and not only that, they were best friends at school.

So armed with this knowledge I met Christopher and told him and after saying ‘do you know how old you have made your interviewee feel’ and me explaining my mother was the teenage gymslip pregnancy the whole of Matlock talked about, we got on like a house on fire and best of all I have got them both back in touch, see it really is a small world. But is that fate or coincidence? You decide.

Oh and my biggest ever case of coincidence? It has to be when I bumped into my ‘big sister’ at a Post Box on Charlotte Street carrying a Chihuahua puppy and looking gayer than gay after having not seen her for about 4 years, that’s another story though.

Can Boys Write Mills & Boon?

2008-11-10T21:39:00.002Z

I meant to put this blog up a week ago, but with the whole Presidential Election and the fact I have had some new responsibilities at work and have two magazines to get done not the normal one, I got held up.

Last Sunday saw one of my favourite nights of TV in ages as BBC3 had a Mills and Boon themed night. You might be sat thinking where has this come from but it has always been a well hidden secret that isn’t that well hidden that I have a secret fondness for Mills and Boon. Yes I know, but I am sorry I have.

There were two brilliant shows, which if you missed… well you missed out, the second was a fabulous drama celebrating 100 years of Mills and Boon with a brilliant cast including my favourite actress Olivia Colman. Get watching it on iPlayer now. The previous first show saw the delightful and fabulous Stella Duffy take on the challenge of writing a Mills and Boon. She looked into the whole Mills and Boon phenomenon, and got to enter its hallowed halls, me jealous, never! She also met some fans and writers, it was fabulous. She also spoke to a man who had tried to write Mark Billingham, who now writes best selling crime. Helen Fielding started off trying to write Mills and Boon, did you know that? I didn’t think men could write Mills and Boon, a fact that stopped me trying to write ‘The Emancipation of Love’, now I know (I asked Stella) that men can. Well that’s opened up a whole new world to me and given me hope. I have dug out my old piece and I shall put below but first let me tell you how my love of all things Mills and Boon happened…

I can actually remember the first time I bought a Mills and Boon, I was about twelve or thirteen - my mother will be mortified I am posting this as she is an English teacher - I was allowed to buy any book in an odd antique market in Newcastle, I think I was having a major mardy and so Mum didn’t really give a monkeys what I bought. This wasn’t the same when aged eleven I bought a porn version of the Greek Myths accidentally, the irony being that my mother also teaches classics. So I chose a delightful red covered 70’s Mills and Boon the new covers have nothing on golden old era. I don’t think they had the ranges and spin offs that they had then they just varied the range with different colours, I have never seen a yellow one yet though. Other children got into Agatha Christie, Robin Jarvis etc, I got into Mills and Boon.

I have wondered if buying this book set the ‘he’s gay’ alarms going off in my mothers head at all. I wouldn’t have been obsession with the Spice Girls or dressing up in Polly’s Princess dresses aged five, or singing the whole Erotica album at the top of my lungs aged ten would it? Sorry I digress.

I don’t remember the full ins and outs of it or what the name of it was but I could guarantee I would recognise it if I saw it in Oxfam etc now. It featured a heroine with her perfect blonde bob pearl earrings and a black lace dress resisting the powerful domineering man, some could say it changed my life in one look I had learnt if you lean away from a man he will lean in. This has never worked but at the time I thought it must be an alluring pose… or something. I do remember a very racy scene where he tore her lace bodice with the force of his thumbs on her nipples. Until this point the most I had seen At aged thirteen that was quite something. I hadn’t really discovered sex quite yet then, I had discovered Madonna but I didn’t really know what she was banging on about.

After that it became a little secret obsession of buying secret copies (it felt a bit illicit at the time, I was living in Marlborough for god’s sake not much happened there) and divulging them, this stopped when I was about 15 and my pocket money was banned frequently as I was a toe-rag. I forgot all about this until at Milkround I met the lovely Michelle, we bonded at a work do where no one was speaking to either of us as we were knew, we then bonded on Mills and Boon… and Colin Firth. We even thought of writing one and eventually I started one, more of that later. Michelle and I became slightly obsessed and most lunch times would head of to Oxfam to see what new ones were in for the all too good price of 49p. How can you go wrong?

We also came up with the rule behind a Mills & Boon which were:
- The man must be rapacious, arrogant and possibly loaded they can also have an evil streak making the heroine question him, herself or the world in general.
- He must be gorgeous; in fact everyone in a Mills and Boon should be frankly.
- Mentioning a mans thighs in some sensual way must happen at least once every chapter.
- Women can be independent, not too independent though, unless they are the ruthless love rival.
- The ending needs to be happy tied up, not in a bondage sense, that’s Black Lace a wholly different title, if its not happy or inconclusive then its not a Mills and Boon.
- There can be a villainous man or a scheming vixen, no gay sidekicks but that should be rectified.
- Sex scenes are now welcome however these edge on Silhouette or simply porn, we like to leave the bedroom door firmly closed.
- Titles with alliteration like ‘Sensually Savidge’ and titles ending in ‘tion’ are bought more often.

So under these rules I started ‘The Emancipation for Love’ back in 2007, I have now dug it out again and here it is, it has been compared to early Jilly Cooper by Dom Agius, which I think is a compliment ha. While you read that I am off to read a copy of the superb ‘Queen of the Castle’. Enjoy!

Geraldine Day looked at the headline aghast; she was tearful and somehow also verging on rage in one complex emotion that she wasn’t sure that she liked. ‘McPinto Takes over Publishers Botherworthe Books’ she had heard rumours in the office, yet these had been flatly denied to all members of staff. That was the corporate world for you. I mean one minute they will tell you that you are getting a promotion and yet somehow its two steps down the career ladder from where you thought they were going to hoist you, she shouldn’t be bitter, it was unattractive, she just couldn’t help herself.
It was here however, the facts right in front of her very eyes, the words broke her heart in two; yes Geraldine Day was almost having a nervous breakdown in her late twenties over a headline. Oh, and the future of her job too. The small lovely independent company, she had worked for since she graduated in Fine Arts & Literature from Oxford with a first, had sold out and that meant she might have to. Worst of all was to whom they had sold themselves, had they no soul? McPinto Corporation a filthy capitalist institution that played with money as recklessly as it did peoples lives. She wouldn’t stand for it; the Germaine Greer in her soul suddenly reared its ugly head and didn’t stop for the remaining twenty minutes she was sat underground.
As soon as she got into work she ran up the four flights of stairs in her killer heels, thank goodness for her gym classes and athletic figure. She was heading straight for her bosses’ desk and she would tell Timothy Trothemheim exactly what she though of the whole debacle. I mean who the hell did he think he was lying to everyone saying nothing was going on and then letting her see (and her co-workers) some cast off part of the Financial Times telling her that her career might be over?
She barged through the door feeling high on her anger to find two people in mid conversation, neither were her boss, these were two people she had never laid eyes on before. The woman stood directly in front of her was dressed in the latest pinstripe Dior suit, sunglasses by Chanel were perched on her tightly pony tailed auburn head. She eyed Geraldine icily up and down as if assessing that the Primark dress and jeans combination was from hell and definitely should not be seen in the office. The words ‘and you are’ gently seeped out of her red lipstick coated mouth it was like poison webbing its way through the air.
‘I actually had the same question for you frankly’ Geraldine blurted out her words stumbling all around the room while she thought what to say next ‘where is Timothy I demand to speak to him now’.
The woman eyed her like a python eyes a mouse before it strikes ‘oh, you must be Geraldine, Geraldine Night or something like that’. Geraldine squared herself up to her new opponent; she wouldn’t be intimidated by anyone let alone this woman. What was she corporate Barbie or whatever children cut the hair off these days? ‘It’s Day actually’ she snapped ‘Geraldine Day, where is Timothy? I need to talk with him urgently’. Her voice faltered, the woman’s gaze however did not.
‘Timothy no longer works here… I would have thought you would have known that, but maybe your research skills need to be looked at in your next appraisal’ Geraldine could here the sneer in the heart of the woman’s tone ‘he has been made redundant with immediate effect… I am his replacement, your new boss so it would seem. My name is Stephanie Stark and I will be bringing this place up to scratch’ she looked Geraldine straight in the eye as she said ‘it seems this place is lacking in… well almost everything. Now if you don’t mind I am in a very important meeting, I think we will be having words later.’
With that she turned her back. Geraldine was unable to move, she felt like she had been winded, tears started to well in her eyes where had that empowered feminist speech disappeared? Stephanie turned to face her once more.
‘Anything else Miss Day? Maybe you could actually turn your computer on and get on with something rather than looking like a fish gasping for water as it flounders on a shore.’
Geraldine turned to leave speechless. As she did so she made direct eye contact with the other figure in the room. An electric bolt ran straight through her. He was tall dark and handsome. He was smirking at what he had just witnessed with a dashing audaciousness. His suit was cut to perfection and she couldn’t help but blush as her eyes were drawn straight to the cut of the top of his trousers and what seemed like a rather predominant mound. The fact that this man was devastatingly attractive which only made her blush more as her surveyed her a little longer than would seem fit.
‘Goodbye Geraldine’ he muttered.
‘Is she still here?’ Stephanie snapped, and Geraldine closed the door behind her thankfully covering her rosy cheeks as the hot flush swept over he body, her blood pulsating through her veins.

***

Several hours later in her local Sainsbury’s Geraldine reflected over the meat section at what a pig of a day it had been. Nothing had gone right from the moment she had left Stephanie’s office. All day she had been on tenterhooks waiting to be hauled into her office and fired, it never happened, in some ways she wished it had.
It was a game of power; Geraldine could see that, Stephanie had her exactly where she wanted… in limbo. Even her normal lunchtime gossip had been no fun. She would meet Charlie in the lift on the way down at 1pm sharp they would sit in the nearest park or coffee shop and put the world, and more importantly their careers, to rights. Charlie worked in HR and was undoubtedly her best friend in the company and her gossiping partner. They had bonded in a Fire Warden course the year before they both discussed just how unsuitable they were as responsible adults in a crisis. Charlie adding that ‘It would be most likely to be me setting the fire alarm off having a crafty cigarette in the toilets, or just being offsite in the smoking area and not being able to get in and save everyone, I shouldn’t be here.’
The only gossip that anyone wanted to discuss during the torrential down pour in the glass walled canteen over there creamy prawn salad was the take over and worst of all Stephanie.
‘Charlie I may have to leave’ Geraldine stated a prawn almost falling from her luscious lips. Charlie looked at her straight in the eye through the brown curly hair that Geraldine secretly envied. Who wanted long sleek shimmering blonde hair like hers? Charlie’s was so much more unusual and special, really eye catching if Geraldine was honest.
‘Geraldine honey, if you leave now you are only cutting your nose off to spite your face. You’ll receive no wages as we’re paid in advance and the merger could be really good for us all. I know, I know you hate McPinto Corporation and you would rather die than work for them but look for jobs over the next month, bide your time, you may even find yourself liking the new changes and systems.’
That was all very well for Charlie and her natural perm to say, Geraldine said nothing, just bit into that Chocolate Cheesecake and the fake canned cream a little harder than needed. That would be all she needed having to go to Stephanie and request for some time off to visit the dentist.
After lunch it only got worse. The glass walls meant Geraldine could see Stephanie watching her every move. This resulted in her tripping over her chair and sending files flying through the air, spilling coffee down someone else’s dress, sending emails to the wrong publisher eight times and dropping her paperweight on her toe and chipping that No.7 nail varnish she’d taken hours of coating on the previous Sunday to get it just perfect. Well she didn’t have any dates so there wasn’t much else to do, maybe read a book about how awful men were but that hadn’t become much fun over the last twelve months of celibacy.
Feeling like a meaty meal would only add to her problems Geraldine bought a large ready made Caesar Salad she certainly wasn’t going to cook. As she pushed her trolley through the vegetable section her eyes were drawn to the cucumbers and her memory to that dashing man in Stephanie’s office. Who was he? What was he doing working for McPinto Corporation? What was his relationship with Stephanie Stark? Why was she at the checkout with no alcohol in her trolley?
She arrived home to find two messages on her answering machine. One was from her sister Penelope who worked for high flying recruiters in New York. ‘Geraldine... where the hell are you? I have been trying you all day but the new receptionist says you no longer seem to be on the list of staff at Pinto Publishing? I have some urgent things for you, firstly Mum is back in hospital the prosthetic leg has been causing her problems, you really should be looking after her better, I am miles away what can I do. Plus with a marriage and children to keep control over I am flat out here. Secondly, are there any vacancies going? We could do with a recruiting deal on a merger like yours; it’s really most selfish of you not to have told me. Maybe you could ask that Charlie friend you spend an unhealthy amount of time with? Bye.”
Since her mother’s accident and father’s death Penelope and Geraldine had not had the best of relationships. Penelope had taken the first chance she got and flown to another country to work her way into the pants of her boss and now husband. She had left Geraldine to pick up the pieces of the crash that had left her father dead and her mother a grieving wheelchair bound widow. Now that she had children and a rich and successful husband, not only did Penelope like to tell her sister how busy she was and how she simple couldn’t help look after her mother, she also liked to tell her sister regularly how amazing having children was and how perfect her marriage had been and remained. Geraldine begrudged her mother nothing, but she hadn’t had the time to grieve her father, and her sister earning triple what she did and only work part time had built up resentment in her so strongly she no longer answered the phone to her. There relationship was now built upon angry voicemails and accusing emails.
The second message was from Charlie. The one person in her life who meant a lot to her and also the woman that Penelope felt her sister was having a lesbian affair with ‘well she does have a boys name and you haven’t had a man in over a year’. Charlie had phoned with news that she obviously hoped would cheer Geraldine up. ‘Hi Geri, its Charlie, oh you would know that. I am just phoning as I have heard that in honour of the merger McPinto Corporation are throwing a ball to help us interact and mingle with new and old faces. Better get your glad rags out sweetheart. Bye for now… phone me if you wanna talk clothes.’
That was all she needed. A party. What did she have to celebrate? She would have to mingle with the enemy, and no doubt Stephanie Stark would be there to watch her balls everything up. She’d have to go to the effort of making herself look impressive, buy a new outfit and not one from Primark; this would have to be special. She’d have to be on her best behaviour with the people that she wanted to see the least. Then a thought occurred to her, if everyone was going to be invited then maybe that mysterious gentlemen would be there. A smile crossed her lips as she put the TV on; ironically she turned on a very relevant film ‘Sleeping with the Enemy’.

***

The ball had been announced the next day and was to be held a fortnight later. To say the time flew by for Geraldine would have been an understatement. All she had heard day in and day out was who was bringing who, what person would be wearing what and who might pull who from whichever department. She was thoroughly unimpressed.
It had had a slightly positive outcome, dealing with Stephanie day in day out had built up so much aggression in Geraldine that she had taken up extra classes in Kick Boxing at the gym. As she surveyed herself in the mirror before work that day she had noticed her toned arms, still feminine, and her ample bosom looked fuller and perter. She had to smile at herself, tonight she would shine, let them try and grind her down, and she would show them all.
The positive attitude she’d had in front of the mirror was soon shattered. It seemed Stephanie had been biding her time. ‘Geri darling, could you come into my office please’ she cooed. Geraldine knew this was all an act, letting everyone see her being so nice was just an act before the sting in the tail followed.
‘Geraldine’ Stephanie snidely looked at her once the door was closed ‘tonight as you know is a big night for everyone at McPinto Corporation, and you and I are no exceptions. I hope you will be tastefully attired as I am going to want you to introduce me to everyone. I don’t have a PA as such and so would like you to do me the… well the… honour, I suppose of being my assistant for the night. I know we didn’t hit it off to start with, however I have been watching you and I think, well yes think, you have signs of promise. I may even need a PA one day, who knows.’ Geraldine was speechless all the way out the door and to her desk.
The sting in the tail had been there of course. Geraldine having the job of a PA would possibly mean more money in the short term, but would be a huge demotion in terms of her role now. How could the Deputy Fiction Manager go to being the Fiction Managers PA.? Geraldine felt numb, if Stephanie wanted her to play games with her she could. This however was pushing her to the edge. ‘She is trying to get rid of me’ Geraldine thought to herself. ‘I am not going anywhere.’ She would play PA for a night, she wouldn’t bite the hand that fed her, more like pass it on to a deadlier animal, something that would really devour the whole arm that fed it, if only she knew what or who that animal was.

***

A few of the girls had gone back to Charlie’s to get ready for the nights events. Geraldine however had to go home via the hospital to see her mother. Her mother had gotten progressively worse over the last few weeks. The doctors said she just didn’t want to get better, she wasn’t dying she just wasn’t living.
Her mother had also noticed the physical change in her daughter but there was also sadness in her that she had not seen before. She had pressed the issue but Geraldine had stayed firmly tight lipped about anything to do with work. Her mother had said she felt no ill will towards McPinto Corporations for the accident, but Geraldine would not listen. She was just like her father, stubborn as an Ox.
Geraldine arrived home, shoved a Korma for one in the Microwave and wallowed in some good old self pity. A bottle of Buck’s Fizz later and the food still in the microwave and she felt a great deal better. She applied her make up with care but a slight drunken finesse, she suddenly realised she was late threw on her dress ordered a taxi and made her way to the ball. Tonight she would be Cinderella and she would have her prince without all that losing of shoes nonsense, she certainly wasn’t losing these shoes in a hurry they were Dior.

Barmy for Barack Obama

2008-11-04T23:47:00.001Z

As I type this I cannot help but give a little giggle, the man on the BBC has just announced that its ‘so tight, and in places that it shouldn’t be that tight’, in a slightly tired haze you could be forgiven for thinking he is talking about something else, he is in fact talking about Florida and their projections for the presidential race. Now I am not normally one for a political blog, but sitting up and watching it, you do feel like you are hopefully watching part of history!

The coverage has been appalling on both BBC and ITV with both the old doddery sods adlibbing and coming out with some very random statements, especially over the whole ‘race issue’ with even some of the roving reporters getting very muddled over whether what they have said is PC or not, you have also had a lot of miserable old buggers bemoaning everything which is always positive in what might be a hugely historic moment.

In fact the news has just been announced with California and Virginia’s Obama is now the President of the United States. It’s actually a bit emotional, the crowds reactions and everything, tears of joy. My own first thoughts are ‘wow that’s amazing and so needed’ and secondly thank god Bush has finally gone and can become something of a distant memory, only sadly for America I think he will be a scar on their lands and history bigger than the San Andreas Fault frankly! See I can do politics.

I have been watching the whole presidential debate from a far since the primary run between Obama and Clinton, and I will admit I wanted Hilary to win it, I even bought a t-shirt I wore with pride in Philadelphia earlier in the year. However, if it couldn’t be here it HAD to be him; I mean could McCain actually live long enough to make it to the White House, or even the corner shop? Plus he is on Bush’s team and frankly I would rather live the apocalypse than see them stay in charge, and if they did I feared they would. There was one other person that I would have quite liked to have had a president but I don’t think it would have been wholly appropriate. http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=k4WDjuiQmxA

I am watching McCain now the line ‘it is my fault we have lost, not yours’ isn’t that what happens when you dump someone, rather than when you loose the whole race to be president. Plus like a true Pantomime they are booing Obama’s name, what a bunch of twats. Oh and now they are cheering Palin a woman who every time she opened her mouth made me think I could run for Vice President… and made Paris Hilton actually almost look like a superb Vice President let alone president. Oh hang on she will go for it next time wont she, am talking Palin not Paris, well that will be some serious comedy to come then, I am sure Obama is quaking in his boots.

I can’t wait for Obama’s speech. Why are people already being so negative, so far I have heard ‘this will be the briefest honeymoon period in Presidential history’ and that ‘it’s the black vote, people are voting for change’ and ‘Obama has Bush to thank for this no one else’. Oh knob off.

Yes, the fact that Obama is the first black President of the United States is brilliant, its historical and its something I know a lot of people never believed that they would see in their lifetime. Yes, George Bush completely messed up America and pretty much tried to infect his poison into the whole world (thank goodness Blair has also gone) and everyone had a very bitter taste in their mouth, including his fellow Republicans from the comments we have heard tonight. The fact was the man was pure evil, but shouldn’t Obama be getting credit for having a great campaign, for having the right values, for being inspirational, likeable, and decent? No that wouldn’t be normal politics would it. I wonder if one day we will get a female or gay president… or both, mind you according to rumour that would have been Hilary wouldn’t it. (I said according to rumour, I am not liable.) So before I watch Obama’s acceptance speech and head to bed, to wake on a dawn of a new era, I raise a toast of my cup of tea to Obama from over my hot cross buns, and leave you with a picture of the new President of the USA!

Oh a little note, I know some picky minx is bound to say ‘your blog is on Tuesday but it was written on Wednesday’ I am writing this on American time! Ok? Lol!

Getting Into The Spirit Of Things

2008-10-31T15:11:00.001Z

Halloween has to be my favourite time of year, I don’t like Christmas at all, I’m not that ecstatic about birthdays (hoorah your older, you’re nearer your deathbed – huff), Easter is great for chocolate but does anyone actually celebrate it for what it’s really about? I quite like Pancake Day, I don’t mind Bonfire Night, and I love Halloween.

Come to my flat and you will find the whole collection of Most Haunted on DVD (if anyone makes a disparaging remark about Yvette or the show please knob off – lol) I have even been on one of Most Haunted Live (I used my journalistic wiles) and stalked Yvette, well hounded her for an interview in the latest edition of Bent. She was freaking fabulous. To cut a long story short, I love everything spooky, ghostly or horrid and when is a better celebration of all things that go bump in the night (I’ll allow the dirty minded of you a snigger there, because I just had one) than Halloween. Even if I am not going out I get a little bit dressed for the occasion, hence the Zombie face pack, I either make sure am at some fabulous fancy dress party, or like tonight make sure I have a good short scary story (Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black is one of my favourites) my favourite Most Haunted or a good scary film and a rather large Witches Brew or seven.

However back to ghosts… I have always been fascinated by what is ‘out there’ have I had anything spooky happen to me? Kind of. There was a Ouija Board incident back when I was 14, where I wasn’t involved and my first stepdads name was spelt out and no one would have known his middle names. Now if I told you about how I found him dead aged ten (no lie) that would probably creep you all out a little too much, I’ll leave that for my autobiography maybe so moving on…

Back when I lived in Stratford we had a really nice house where nothing happened to me but it did to my flat mate Jenny, she was woken up with voices, arguments on the landing outside my bedroom, which I never heard, and once a huge slap across the face which actually left a print. Our landlord eventually sold the property and moved us somewhere else which I can only say had the most ominous feeling ever, which only got worse when Jason (not THE Jason from the films lol) moved in.

Jason was obsessed with his dead Grandmother, absolutely obsessed. There were pictures, including ones of her when she was dying in hospital, all around his room as well as her old jewellery, antiques and the like. From the week he moved in there was a weird vibe in the house, not in just a ‘sensitive gay’ way but a genuinely horrid atmosphere had come from nowhere, friends at the time who visited would say it was creepy but only downstairs, only in the rooms leading off Jason’s room. It became a bit of a joke; we blamed the Grandmother, something I came to regret.

About a month later I was all alone in the flat happily sat upstairs sorting my cd’s when I heard bands and crashes, I thought one of the other housemates was home and thought nothing more of it. The crashes started again and slightly worried someone had had an accident I went down to look, no one was there I had thought I’d seen something scuttle through the conservatory which had a walled in door that lead to the garden and worried I was being burgled suddenly had a butch moment and went to look. Nothing. I thought it must be the neighbours and carried on faffing around.

The noises stared again. I called out, nothing, more noises, I banged on the neighbours wall, and it stopped. Ten minutes later a definite smash from the kitchen, so I went down. Now when you came down the stairs there was a mirror which meant you could see the kitchen because of the angle of the wall it was on. As I came down the stairs my heart leapt into my mouth as looking at me in the mirror with what can only be described as scorn was a little old lady. I won’t lie; I screamed, ran upstairs and locked my door. Not until one of the other housemates was in the building for definite did I come down, and when I did several smashed glasses lay on the kitchen floor. I never mentioned it to Jason and bizarrely he moved out, leaving us in the shit, two days later, he did a late night flit.

Now some of you will think I was drunk, must be delusional or could have made it up. I promise you I didn’t and the fear I felt that night showed plainly to everyone. I was a random Wednesday, not Halloween nothing, and I don’t even think it was Jason’s Grandmother, all I know is I saw what I saw and once I had calmed down the fascination and a spark of belief began and its grown. I even did my first ghost hunt this year which I wrote about in a previous blog. This is something that I want to continue doing (frankly I want Yvette Fielding’s job) and will be doing again for charity on the 15th of November.

Yes in just over two weeks time myself and three other unlucky volunteers (Polly, Michelle and Mr B) who are becoming my ‘Scream Team’ are spending a whole night in a plague pit in The London Tombs, all to raise money for St John’s Ambulance. Now I have been through the place twice already with a torch in daylight and have been quiet uneasy so a whole night partaking in things which should call the ghosts there (and seriously you should hear the stories, people being pushed downstairs, people being followed, dark figures, I could go on) it will be petrifying.

Now I hate to get the begging bowl out but I will as hopefully you are all ‘in the spirit’ of Halloween and ghostly goings on and beg, plead, sell my soul to the devil for you to sponsor us. We have a very high target and so want to do the charity proud so please even if it’s just a fiver visit www.justgiving.com/theghoulies I don’t do the whole charity begging think hardly ever and so it would mean a lot.

So do any of you have any spooky stories to share (that I can creep the team out with on the 15th)? If so let me know, I shall now leave you with the wish you all have a very Happy Halloween and something spooky happens to one and all!

The Happiest Gay Couple in All the World

2008-10-05T13:33:00.000+01:00

No not me and Alex, my new favourite gays on TV, Rick and Steve. It’s only been three episodes in and I am 100% smitten with the pair of them and look forward to my weekly liaison with them and their friends (every Wednesday on E4) a little too eagerly.
So what can I tell you about the lives of my new favourite gay couple in the whole wide world? Well naturally as the ‘happiest gay couple in the world’ – they aren’t, though to all outsiders they may seem to be. When we are introduced to the Playmobil looking (they are fake – computer generated – and plastic looking, oh the irony) duo that are Rick & Steve, we find Rick working over a hard microwave heating a quiche for dinner with their friends ‘the lesbians’ Kirsten and Dana, one a complete femme the other truly butch.

Every single character is a caricature of the gay world. Rick is a ‘Philippino bottom’ who wants love, children and everything ‘normal’ while Steve is still in the closet to his family (despite living in the ‘gay only’ community of West Lahunga Beach) and isn’t bored of Rick, but is bored of having sex with Rick. You see them on the stake out for a threesome in episode one which ends in a brilliant musical extravaganza. You have the lesbians butch Kirsten and femme and almost ‘fag hag; worthy Dana who are on the hunt for Ricks sperm to become ‘perfect lesbian mothers’.

There is also the other gay couple (who possibly get the most laughs from me because the humour is so dark and wrong) Chuck and Evan. Chuck who is wheelchair bound and has HIV and his ‘twink gym bunny’ (and stupid) boyfriend Evan, who when Chuck demands not to sleep with anyone after he dies responds with ‘but I sleep with other people already’. Even the area is a caricature where they welcome 'public displays of erection' with shops like ‘The Black Like Me Café’ or the 'Manjob' night club.

Sadly already people have started saying that ‘Rick & Steve’ is homophobic (mind you they did that with Little Britain), which is odd as the show was in fact created in America for the digital gay channel Logo. It’s written by and stars gay men, not so homophobic after all. However people are complaining about the humour and jibes, but if you have a dark sense of humour and don’t take yourself or life too seriously then you will love it. Mind you in the same yet slightly different vein I have heard a few gay men starting to say ‘oh we are so Rick & Steve’ and I think ‘oh dear’.

Also isn’t it time we had some out there gay characters on TV and especially a show where we are the main attraction rather than an interesting subplot. I mean we were all once complaining that we didn’t have ‘any gay characters on TV’ now we have the likes of the bitchy boring duo on Desperate Housewives (or have they blessedly been cut) the one on Eastenders who I think best I say nothing about or the ‘shock horror’ gay couple in The Archers who don’t really feature very often other than in ‘shock horror, gay men in a small sleepy farming village’.

Yes Rick & Steve are currently my favourite gay couple on TV… in fact my favourite couple on TV and long may we follow their dramatic, comic and dirty little lives. I’ll leave you with the lyrics from the shows theme tune.

You’re welcome here in our little queer community,
Whether or not you’re hot or if you’ve got HIV,
You may just find the love of your life,
Your same sex husband or same sex wife,
There’s Dana and Kirsten, and Evan and Chuck,
But all our lives just suck…
Compared to Rick and Steve, Rick and Steve,
Happy and gay like you wouldn’t believe,
Loving life and hating girls,
They’re the happiest gay couple in all the world.

Crikey... Where The Heck Did September Go?

2008-10-02T20:14:00.003+01:00

Is it me or did the last month just vanish without a trace in a ridiculously speedy fashion. I decided rather than go over every single day and back blog (something that I occasionally do and is slightly naughty) I would just simply give the highlights of the (almost) month since I last blogged you lucky so and so’s.

Zurich
I was lucky enough through work to get to go on a ‘working’ holiday to Zurich which I knew nothing about (I actually thought it was in Germany) on a press trip and I loved it out there. It was with possibly the nicest bunch of journalists that I have been on a trip with so far, no bitching, just laughing. Highlights were hearing all about Tina Turners house and then not seeing it, a drunken lake cruise, drinking champagne on arrival in the airport at 11am, Robbie Williams suite, eating fabulous food, getting insanely drunk, dancing on a tram and holding hands with several gay journalists going through a dark room maze for the sake of research… but that’s not for now! It was a blissful trip with much merriment and “hard work” and I’ve made some fabulous new friends some of whom I have seen a few times since. Who says gay journalists can’t get on? I cannot wait to go back in May for Europride. Oh and did I mention the chocolate… the diet went out the window… not content with just eating it here is a picture of some of us being massive pigs and drinking the stuff.
Reading
I love a good read but September has been crazy, despite me quitting book group, the TBR (to be read) pile has clocked up a crazy amount (the book blog will be soon I am sure – I am a blogging shame) with several review books coming my way. I had one from a random author who had read my book blog so that was a pleasant surprise. I have also been doing some for New Books Magazine, Waterstones and two publishers. Plus I have been lucky enough to get some advance copies of my (I hope I can call them this) friends Rupert Smith (the Secret Tunnel), Clayton Littlewood (Dirty White Boy) and Rick R Reed (most of his back catalogue) all of which will be displayed on my book blog soon and also in Bent for a writers special I am working on, see told you I would make Bent more literary lol.

Technical Tragedy
I almost cannot speak of the tragedy of when my Zen died… with all 20,000 songs on it. If you know me well you will know a life without music for me isn’t really a life worth living. So I wont lie… there was some severe stropping! However thanks to my delicious husband a lovely silver sparkly 120GB iPod has turned up, I always said that I would never go to the dark side of apple… I guess I am more like Snow White than I thought. We also lost the internet for a few weeks after our street blew up, yes blew up! Hence why have been so silent!

New Bundles of Joy
I HAVE TWO NEW COUSINS! Yes, Alice gave birth to two gorgeous little twin girlies Iris and Maisie and I have been up and seen them (now that was a journey it only took me five hours a train and three night buses to get home at 2.40am, it was worth it though) and they are absolutely gorgeous, bar slightly alien looking heads. Here is a little picture for you…
A Little Bit of Sadness
It’s been just over a year since Bong died and though I miss him everyday there is something about anniversaries that are so much harder. It was the first (and they say that can be the worst) and after a fabulous interview with Pam Ann or Caroline where I have given her not one but two jokes in her show, no lie, I felt so down and out. I just wandered around London and got a bit lost. He would have been a bit miffed at that, so I went home and got drunk.

Culture & Getting All Historic
Took my beloved to the Woman In Black (my favourite West End play) so that was a bit of culture. We also did Open Weekend with Michelle and her brother visiting some of the secret historic places in London who normally keep their doors locked like the House of Commons and some old gentlemen’s clubs and the like. Also Polly took me to Hever for the day to see the splendid Hever Castle… but that might end up being another blog maybe on of the Children of Polari blogs… if we’ve not been disowned for being so rubbish. Here’s a cheeky picture of Polly from the day out and proves you can take the girl out of Newcastle but you can’t take Newcastle out of the girl!
And Moving On…
We have been looking at new flats, but that is all I can say for now, the only thing I will add is that I have my fingers crossed very, very, very, very tightly! I’m sure there is more I just cant think. I will be a better blogger from now on!

Ghost Hunting With Michelle & Simon

2008-09-08T18:23:00.000+01:00

Now sometimes I get myself into some unusual situations with work but I never anticipated that I would end up going ghost hunting least of all with Phil Whyman (who now runs www.deadhaunted.co.uk) who used to be on one of my favourite shows Most Haunted. However with a big Halloween piece for Bents October issue lead me through the rainy countryside this Saturday gone with Michelle all the way to Peterborough and to its Museum, once a Tudor mansion of which the cellars still exist, and then became another manor before it was then a hospital, school and now is the museum. A building steeped in history and hopefully full of ghosts.

The start of the evening involved a tour of the whole museum, with just torches and a few lights here and there. I was mainly fine but on one particular staircase I felt really sick, one that isn’t open to the general public. The other place that Michelle and I both felt funny was the cellar. Both of us just didn’t want to end up in that area of the building and yet when we first were split into groups and put on different levels of the building, where were we sent first? Yes of course, we were sent to the cellar. Once in there we also found it was the hospitals morgue which made us feel absolutely no better than before, followed by the next room which we did a stint in which was the original autopsy room and where they now stored mannequins and their spare parts some of which they use for Halloween so you can imagine what that was like. Bar some orbs and some strange rapping’s we didn’t really get anything.

After a break some snacks and a tea or two (they throw you a lovely buffet) we then headed to the top floor and being brave Michelle and I headed for the operating theatre to spend some time with whatever may be lurking there and sadly not a lot was, we did go around with an EMF meter (as Dead Haunted supply you with Planchets, EMF readers, scrying mirrors and any other ghostly equipment that you should need) and felt like proper paranormal investigators. One of the museums rooms on that floor made me feel odd, maybe because as you entered you were greeted by a coffin, here we asked out and had very little response… or did we?

It was the third investigation of the first floor that things started to happen and funnily enough this was after midnight. The second floor featured a shop which had been built to replicate one from the past with mannequins (which is always nice and not at all scary) and here we used the planchet to get them to write something using our energy. Though nothing was written Michelle and I felt like something was blowing on our hands (prior to this someone had done the loudest fart in the next room which wasn’t spiritual) and they had dropped in heat from the rest of the room by 10 degrees.

Then the weirdest thing of the night happened, we did a séance in one room where a girl appears. We were all asking out surrounded by dinosaurs in display cases, suddenly it sounded like something was running along the tops of them which actually made them shake really hard. The other teams were contacted and no one else in the building was moving, it honestly felt like and earthquake and no one else had heard it! Then a few minutes later we all heard someone walking loudly down the corridor and some of us saw a huge shadow, no one was there.

After a fairly quite time on the ground floor with Michelle, Phil and some others in a torture chamber (with more mannequins) we were allowed to go off on our own, after a nothing on the stairwell that made me feel sick we went back to the little girls room, as we did I saw a huge shadow move along the corridor above and nearly pooped myself as we knew no one was there. Michelle had a ‘tired/scared’ grump after this and before we knew it the night was over.
Am I more of a believer now? Ask me after I have stayed in the London Tombs in November! I will say that though odd things happened that can’t be explained I wasn’t scared and I wasn’t screaming ‘it’s a ghost’ instantly. I am more of a believer but more sceptical all at once, which is a bit odd and confusing frankly. I would recommend that everyone gives this a go. Try going with Dead Haunted as we did as they made us feel so welcome and had a laugh in what could be a seriously scary time… like it was for the woman who got a rusty nail thrown at her head in the cellar.

Joan Rivers, Electroqueer and Getting Touched Up Thrice

2008-09-05T14:19:00.000+01:00

Another night another preview, ha if only my entire life could be like this, last night was the press preview of the fabulous Joan Rivers show ‘A Work in Progress, By A Life in Progress’. I love Joan Rivers and for some reason I always think of Bong when she is mentioned as he used to think she was hilarious, I also do the same with Nigella Lawson by that’s by the by. Joan is a woman who embodies everything that I think is fabulous, she loves the ‘c’ word, she isn’t scared to talk about anything least of all her sex life and private parts, but despite the plastic surgery she has something innately real about her.

She has struggled in life she was dropped by Fox, alienated by Jonny Carlson, and her husband killed himself (in the Four Seasons Hotel I stayed at in Philadelphia) leaving her to look after her daughter who at 16 also became her business partner. In spite of all of this tragedy she has an amazing sense of humour, tonight’s show however also showed another side to her. This show not only has you laughing in the aisles as you hear her tell her journey on stage but also lays her bare and sees her at her most raw. I was entranced; the audience was silent and totally mesmerized. I simply cannot wait to interview her next week now. Afterwards she joined everyone for some drinks and nibbles and was genuinely charming, no airs and graces which you would expect with someone of that star quality. This drinks and nibbles was where I got groped for the first time in the evening! Cannot wait to interview her next week!

After the fabulous time Muffintop and I had there we went on for ‘one drink’ as I had promised I would attend the second night of Electroqueer at Barcode. I didn’t know what to expect even though I am quite a fan of www.electroqueer.com and have a similar taste (I was dancing my pants of to Lady Gaga later on in the proceedings – my favourite album of the entire year) in music to the host and DJ. There were live acts, one was pants, one was just bizarre (very electro Kate Bush meets Lily Allen gone askew) and Electrovamp who were just bloody fabulous!

One drink turned into several and while I was at the bar I was handed a piece of paper from a man whose friend had given him to pass onto me. It was his facebook profile… since when did phone numbers go out of fashion? This person shall remain nameless as he has a boyfriend and he proceeded to be the second person to grope me during the evening. About five drinks later I was trollied and Polly had to head home as she had work the next day so off I trundled to catch the night bus, this was to be where I would get my third grope of the evening in shocking fashion.

I was trying drunkenly to finish off Wuthering Heights on the bus and was doing quite successfully until we got to Clapham North where I started to feel slightly sickly so I stopped. At Clapham Common a young man I have seen about before who is quite hot (if I was single) got onto the bus clocked me and sat behind me. I was next to the window and had someone with a bloody loud mp3 player sat next to me, the guy moved opposite him. As Mr Mp3 got off, this chap then sat next to me at about Balham… by Tooting Bec he was feeling me up! He got off at Tooting Broadway and hovered, I got off outside my flat a few stops on and scurried home. That has never (well on a bus) happened to me before. I have given my number out on a bus back in my hey day but never has someone been so over zealous. I thought cruising to that extent was a bit ‘out’ or a bit old school, I am obviously so not with it!

The Agius Exhibition

2008-09-04T13:06:00.000+01:00

Last night was the preview of Crime & Punishment the new photography and arty exhibition at 198 Contemporary Arts & Learning which is near Herne Hill not Stockwell as I found when it took me ages to walk there, plus from Stockwell its not very well sign posted and one road leads to the road its on which meant I got lost for about 30 minutes and thought I might miss the whole event.

Now it’s very unlike me to go to the opening of an art exhibition as while I love art and photography I tend to not fit in with the crowds that attend the previews, and also its something I like to do solo so I can go and take in the art in my own time and in my own way.

However tonight was also my gorgeous friend Dom Agius’ preview, for he had several fabulous photos on show in the exhibition. One particular one of some curtains blowing in what looks like a fabulous manor really strikes a chord with me. (If ever I am allowed to write what is awaiting a certain author’s estates yes or no then I would love to use this as a cover for the work in question.) Wine was flowing and Dom was fabulously showing people around and I knew I would know people in the crowd who had come for the opening.

Paul Burston and Arun were there, so it felt like some of the Polari family were around, I also got to meet some fabulous new people. Two of whom were Chris and Biddy whose album launch I shall now be attending. They were both fabulous, both you couldn’t make up in a novel and both I want to get to know better, Biddy had me in stitches with some of his tales and demanded I tell him my life history ‘but only in 3 minutes for we must chase a cab’ the night ended in the one of the campest most fabulous journeys I have ever had.

Here’s a photo of Dom and I in front of his works (we’re pulling out ABBA/Mitford pose)…
If you can do go and check the Crime and Punishment Exhibition, its on at 198 Contemporary Arts & Learning, 198 Railton Road, Brixton (but its next to Herne Hill), London, SE24 0JT until the 11th of October.

Simon Savidge… Tomb Raider (and Screamer)!

2008-09-03T20:23:00.003+01:00

Not content with going to see Most Haunted get the pants scared of them at the London Tombs on Friday night, I decided that a big scary spooky piece was much needed in next months issue of Bent, it is Halloween after all. So not only have I organised a proper night in a haunted museum that was once a hospital, cant wait to be shut in the cellar, morgue or operating theatre, the fun. I digress; yesterday I also got to go to London Tombs myself.

On arrival at London Bridge you can see the signs of London Tombs everywhere; there are bloody spectres and figures all over the shop handing out leaflets. However where you think the entrance is it isn’t, we were led around the corner and under a bridge with some fabulous modern lights that I have been through many times and never noticed the buildings (the Tombs and a pub opposite) when I have gone through. In the shop we met James the Manager who told us that rather than just go on both The London Bridge Experience and enter The London Tombs, we would also be taking a torch lit tour of the venue. Weirdly knowing the history of the site I then started to feel rather scared.
The London Tombs is a new attraction in London which has royally annoyed the London Dungeons. However unlike the Dungeons which were actually just warehouses and shops in its past, the London Tombs is a proper set of vaults which when being sorted for the new attraction found to have catacombs, a plague pit and tonnes of bones that were sticking out of the wall that backs onto Southwark Church and its cemetery. Some of these were simply skulls, and the skulls had wholes in the top, these are thought to be the skulls of beheaded traitors that were then attached to the Bridge for all to see. Builders have left the site and never come back, and some of the staff have almost done the same. Now you can see why I might have felt slightly edgy.
Funnily enough as James led us through these very vaults with just a torch and into several rather grisly settings which are part of the ‘experience’ as he did this he also told us of all the experiences that he has had and several of the staff have had, actually getting some of the actors to tell their tales to us. Its quite odd having someone dressed as a medieval beheader telling you of the dark figure he has seen. I would divulge more to you but you’ll have to read next months Bent Magazine. I would seriously advise that you head down and give the attraction a go as after the pitch black tour upstairs we went down to try out the Tombs I can honestly say I haven’t jumped and been scared that much in a long while… mind you, I haven’t lived the joys of Saturday night and some time in a haunted operating theatre and cellar yet, but more of that after the weekend.

Building Site = Bomb Site

2008-09-02T13:12:00.000+01:00

Finally after over a year of having a leak that comes regularly through my bathroom roof my delightful landlords and agents (Time2Move – I don’t recommend them at the moment if your moving in south London) decided to send the builders round to sort it out. Shame the builders couldn’t be sorting out all the other 22 problems we had someone come and check a few months ago, but that’s just me having a good old moan.

So the builders arrived, now I don’t mean to be picky but of course they were late. Also why do builders never look like they do in porn films? I was expecting a pair of buff greasy twenty eight year olds maybe with skinheads in dungarees. I sadly got two fifty year olds (I have nothing against the age) but they weren’t the finest specimen of men. Porn is frankly just unfair advertising that will lead you into false beliefs.

It’s amazing how they also expect tea, on two occasions when I was happily beavering away doing my work at my desk and I heard ‘if you’re making a brew…’ I almost on the second occasion said ‘do I look like I am near a kettle?’ They also managed to go out and have ten minute breaks between ripping the ceiling down and then ripping some more stuff down and then running upstairs having tea up there and then plastering with breaks again.

What I loved was the fact that when they arrived they trampled mud in, they then did more through the roof terrace door, didn’t clean any up of course, and then I came home from the shops and was greeted by no builders but dust and general crap everywhere oh and this is how my bathroom now looks...Some might call it modern art on my ceiling I suppose, I wouldn’t be one of them mind.

My London Mini Break

2008-09-01T22:20:00.000+01:00

After having worked pretty solidly for over two weeks including working weekends and a Bank Holiday weekend plus after a seriously long night at Most Haunted Live and the fact some of my family were coming down on Monday I decided that I should take a few days off and have a break, a sort of Simon Bank Holiday if you will. So rather than go anywhere gallivanting I decided that I would simply have a holiday in my home city of London with a slight detour to the Yorkshire Moors but more on them in due course.

Saturday saw Michelle and myself get into bed at almost 5am after out Most Haunted jaunt, so we decided that we would have a lovely lunch (sorry am I on a diet) of a massive platter in the pub, a Mills & Boon hunt, a new skirt for Michelle hunt (due to the hear and for Most Haunted she’d dressed for coldness) and then a lovely stroll in the National Trust Park that’s fifteen minutes from my house but I frequently forget about.
It might have involved some horses and stables a big favourite of Michelle’s. Look at that dress sense…
It might also have involved some ice-cream, but I am on a diet but there is no proof… oh damnation.
Sunday was so rubbish weather wise I ended up spending the day in the local spa (my flat) lazing around and reading Wuthering Heights, am unsure of Catherine (spoilt petulant bint) and Heathcliff (uncouth rogue), time will tell!

Monday was like a massive tourist trail of London and made me realise just how blinking lucky I am that to live here. I met my aunty Caz (who in age and in relationship is much more like my big sister) and my cousins Florence and Alfie for a day out seeing all the sites. Though Florence has done the London holiday thing quite a lot for a seven year old this was actually Alfie’s first proper visit as he came for the wedding but didn’t get to do the tourist thing! So we decamped at their hotel and swiftly made our way to the river and for a long gorgeous boat ride which took in the sites.
We then went to Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and Westminster Abbey before going onto my favourite park which is St James’ Park. Its small full of bizarre ducks and Pelican’s a hermit house like pub, fabulous views of Buckingham Palace and it seems more hidden than the other parks and less sparse. Plus it was in one of my favourite children’s books ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hollins’, random fact. We met the hubbies in St James and Green Park had some coffees caught a double decker and ended up in China Town for the kids first proper Chinese, Alfie loved it... and so did I, well how could I be rude and diet when a) am on holiday and b) am having a family meal, it would be rude wouldnt it?
Now those are the reasons why people should visit London, speaking of which has anyone else noticed how pointless the adverts for Visit London are on the Metro, London Paper, buses and tubes… when you’re already in London glad money is spent wisely! I do take London for granted sometimes and I need little breaks like these to relax and help me remember that.

Most Haunted Laid To Rest?

2008-08-29T23:39:00.000+01:00

I have been a fan of Most Haunted for years so when I got tickets to the live show at Alexandra Palace I was over the moon, there was also only one person I could take and that was Michelle/Spandex/Mitch. One of the things we have had in common since she was ‘the lady what paid me’ when I was a temp about 4 years ago (bar the love of Pride & Prejudice, Colin Firth and Mills & Boon) is Most Haunted. In fact we have had several long and sometimes you might say heated conversations and debates on this very subject. Does the stuff that happens really happen? Is an orb really a ghost? Did Derek Acorah wear a thong? Why did Derek get fired? Could we do a better job?

I am really open to the show, I know a lot of people think it’s faked I couldn’t see any trickery tonight. I am open to the whole ghost thing and once made a pilot for something like this filmed in a pubs cellar that’s part of the old Newgate Prison. I am actually looking for gay ghost hunters or a gay ghost hunting team for October’s magazine, so if you know any let me know. I also had a very weird moment with a friend at Balham Spiritualist Church where the message we got was so spot on and we gave nothing away, but that’s another story back to Most Haunted.

We arrived at Alexandra Palace with just the three hours to spare before it started as we wanted to make good time. After being directed by one of the security guards to find ‘a little gay guy called Martin who hands out the tickets, careful though mister he might try and kiss you’ seriously these people still exist. In my head I was thinking ‘you have no idea what my career or sexual orientation is do you numpty man?’ It made for a hilarious conversation in the ridiculously long queue to meet said Martin. We had arrived only 30 minutes after you could get tickets and we were the 319th and 320th members of the audience. And what an audience…
But before that I must pay homage to Martin who I have previously mentioned because he for me and Michelle was possibly one of the highlights of the night. When we got our wristbands he had just said to the people in front ‘just put out your wrist… or your penis anything really we can attach it to and see it on’. After Michelle and I had ours on he said ‘we love you two’. Later when the audience had withered to about half if not less he ran to us and said ‘you are all gorgeous, sexy, hot people move forward… now’. He should have been the warm up act and the entertainer in all the waiting around or even better one of the presenters. We loved him.

So onto the audience, can I state that before I say this and before I judge others I am honestly not a snob or normally this judgemental, there are just levels of decent humanity that sometimes need addressing. Firstly this audience was lame, no one wanted to be interviewed for the show (they didn’t ask us) they took photos when they were told it was banned (my photo was on the way out so doesn’t count), they were a whole new level of chav (bar some lovely gays and Goths) they talked loudly and endlessly about utter shit or as if the crew and cast of the show were their best friends and I am sorry but some of them smelt. We know it was them because it arrived with three ladies (all obese) and was so strong we were sniffing ourselves and each other to make sure it wasn’t us. One of these delightful ladies then took her shoes off, announced the stench of her feet was ‘hanging’ and wouldn’t put the shoes back on. Fortunately 60% of the audience had left by 10pm which I thought was a bit of a cheek as some people had been waiting three years for tickets, that’s a whole new level of crazy.

The show was good, we got to see Yvette and several of the Most Haunted Team (I am still sulking they never got back to me about a time for an interview but that’s another story) Lesley Smith was FABULOUS and I think she might have to be a future femme fatale for my new interview feature that’s running every month in Bent, as of next month. I need to find out more about her. Their new psychic ‘Brian’ is awful, I could wander around saying ‘spirit come forward’ and not give any details as to who the spirit is other than its male or female and might have had plague, bring back David Wells! In fact bring back the old simpler format.

Watching the show on the big screens was good sadly though they weren’t doing ‘Alexandra Palace’ which seemed like a waste of an amazing venue and also I think if we had been an audience in the location they were at we would have felt more part of it, rather than a herd of cattle trained to clap who weren’t really allowed to use the loo or entertained during the endless bits where the team weren’t being screened and we weren’t needed, we actually got told not to clap sometimes, I think it was meant to add to the suspense. Now they are trying to make the show a bit too out there and as they had no contact with the studio it made for slightly dull TV where we’d one moment see one of them in a coffin doing an experiment and then be treated to them having a chat or moving equipment. I think the DVD of ‘Total Darkness’ will be better. I’ll still try and do the Halloween show if it’s near London.

Where the Most Haunted team were looked fabulous though, they are staying three days underground beneath various parts of London, tonight’s was the London Tombs which have not long been discovered under London Bridge. I love all that underground London stuff… I need to start getting jobs where I get to do that, now how would one become a member of Most Haunted? Maybe I should start up ‘Laid To Rest’ again, a show a friend and myself started, that never quite went anywhere. I am going to start brainstorming.

Time Goes By... So Quickly

2008-08-28T19:42:00.001+01:00

My afternoon with Madonna went far far far too quickly, am waiting the official shots of the afternoon, so here's one of mine to leave you with...

Make of it what you will! More on possibly one of the most fun afternoons I have had when the proper pics arrive!

And So The Diet Starts

2008-08-27T14:33:00.000+01:00

Sometimes something with work comes up that might not make the best feature but you just selfishly want to try and then will try and make into a really exciting feature. A diet that is delivered freshly made for you every day that the likes of Jennifer Aniston is on (though if I end up looking like Jennifer Aniston I wont be impressed, as she is a girl and Brad has totally passed her by) and other celebs, I just though ‘hell yeah I am so doing this’. That was last week, before the hampers started to arrive. My first hamper arrived on Tuesday so I am now two days into this malarkey, am I loving it?

…In a word “no”. I have to say the food is delicious; there just simply isn’t enough of it. I know before anyone answers with ‘that’s the whole point of a diet’ that indeed that is the whole point but I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be so little. Carbs are gone, rice and potatoes minimised, and meat is higher on the ingredients count that it would be if I was cooking myself. There isn’t a sign of chocolate anywhere just ‘cocoa flavoured’ things. The things I do for the love of my job lol.

There are pro’s though, because I am on a strict fitness regime I am allowed one Mars Bar a day *insert the theme ‘a mars a day, helps you work, rest and play here* and I am eating fruit salads on top. It is hard work though my stomach hasn’t ached like this in a long time (that’ll be the shrinking) and I have to drink masses of water everyday, water is the most boring tasting drink in the universe, is adding masses of Ribena cheating I wonder? I haven’t… yet! There is also the fact that coffee is banned and so is sugar in tea, bloody Hitler’s! I love a nice sweet tea! However I have also discovered, a little late I am sure, Chai Tea which needs no sweetening and I am drinking quite a high amount of as ‘its good for me’ and tastes like (though hopefully without the side effects of) Syrup of Figs.

I should say more about the food I am allowed though really. The shakes are all very nice, Granola… rabbit food but bearable, plus one has chocolate in another pecan, the Pea & Ham soup is amazing (best I have ever had) and ‘Crab and Asparagus’ soup sounds quite fancy. It’s the mains that make me laugh like ‘Richard Jenkins Wild Rabbit’ who the heck is Richard Jenkins when he’s at home? I think it’s supposed to sell it to me, maybe if the picture was of a buff rogue farm hand, rather than a greying old farm codger it would do the trick. Honestly some people get freebies and just moan, moan, moan I ask you!

Updates on how the diets going soon, maybe when the mood swings have passed.

Olympic Gays

2008-08-25T19:32:00.001+01:00

I have to say when the Olympic Games ended I nearly shed a tear. I have really gotten into it this year, but why the possible tear I hear you cry? Was it the amazing firework and closing display? No, but almost as that was wonderful. Was it the awful effort we made with Boris and his bad hair and Leona and his bad miming? No though if we’re selling commuters and transport as London’s highlights god help us. Was it because Team GB did really well and I got really behind them? Maybe as I did this year. Was it saying good bye to all the semi naked men? Very possibly. Was it the fact its been my companion as Phoebe seems to be scared of the dark and cries if the lights and TV are off and she needs cuddling as she’s in a new home and now I will only have Quiz Call or QVC? Almost definitely!

Bless Phoebe as she started off the first night ok, but since then it’s been a rocky road. She doesn’t particularly like Mr S yet other than when he is playing with her and then she cries if he stops. Only one morning to stop the mewing he fell asleep on the floor at 4am woke up at 6am to see me and Phoebe happily curled up together deeply asleep on the bed. We have now realised she’s randomly scared of the dark and like dutiful parents we are sleeping with the light on, which if you have tried this is almost impossible, well it is for me, and so the all night Olympic coverage has been a great friend for me in these slightly trying times.

Fortunately I’ve had quite a sports filled last few days which has taken away a lot of the loss I have felt with the Olympic farewell, and I don’t just mean under my new ‘get fit’ regime. Though the weekend did see me gyming a lot it also saw the start of the IGLFA (I think that stands for International Gay & Lesbian Football Association) World Championship, something that features the Yorkshire Terriers who Bent are sponsoring. So I am being a roving reporter for that. I missed the opening event at Shepherd’s Bush as I went to the Lovers & Losers night at Trash Palace where my gorgeous friend Dom Agius was doing his first headline gig and was fabulous. I couldn’t stay late because of Queen Phoebe and her current demanding behaviour. I then missed the first day of matches, so really not the best reporter of the games so far. I did have a reason for missing the first day and that was the Royal Vauxhall Tavern and GMFA’s Sports Day.

I am a volunteer for GMFA but sadly not the best one. I do work on FS and try and do what I can but I will do more in the future I swear. As this Sports Day was to benefit them I went along to get some coverage for Bent and hopefully that’ll create some extra publicity. I also found out that my best mate Andy was taking part in a team (The London Raiders) so I had to go and support them. After hand bag tossing, the 50m mince, the tug of war *insert gay men tugging joke here* the egg and spoon and the Beer Relay Race they came a very high scoring second. It was a really good fun day out and we even had some sunshine. Here’s the team tugging…

Here’s Andy and his fella Jay…

Here’s the fabulous Timberlina who was hosting the event in a fabulous purple jumper dress, they so need to come back.

Oh and here are me and Mr S can you see we have swapped hair length (there were tears over this haircut, not mine, but he asked me to do it) and I am looking sportier? Not quite!

More sporting news tomorrow when I finally cover the IGLFA World Championship, I wonder if a roving reporter gets to interview them all in the showers. That would be really hard work and so dull! God my job is so difficult sometimes!

Who's The Foster Daddy?

2008-08-19T23:43:00.000+01:00

Well it would appear that the foster daddy could indeed be me. No not children though things are looking good for next year but that’s a whole other blog! After Hoyden died I was adamant that there was no way I would ever have another cat, while that was quite extreme I still don’t but after seeing some kittens on TV I felt tempted. So I had a look online when I found a foster scheme with Battersea Dog’s Home. The idea is that you look after cats who are a little poorly, who need to adjust to living in a home again, or who have just had kittens. This is perfect for people who work abroad sometimes, have a smaller flat, or have no garden AND it’s doing something for a charity. So I am all signed up and pending a home check and some references all should be good.

Now one of the references will naturally be my gorgeous best friend Polly, who has known me the whole while I had both Thisbe and Hoyden, and who has now left me in charge of her precious pussy (oh that sounds rude, snigger – sorry) for almost two weeks while she goes away as part of her birthday celebrations. It was meant to start on Thursday but thanks to the closing down of the Northern Line for a few days (an excuse to not go into town which is a bonus) because of a strike, she has arrived this evening.

I did a mad dash to Sainsbury’s for cat litter trays, dinner for us, cat treats and a mouse toy – the woman at the checkout gave me a withering ‘single gay man with a cat syndrome’ look before Polly arrived with Phoebe in tow. It’s the first time Polly and I have seen each other since the drama of me leaving book group (ha that sounds so late 50’s woman drama) which is another story! So I found her in an isle looking fabulous as ever with her cat basket in tow. Polly had quite a lot of looks at the tube but said ‘a person staring at my pussy rather than my breasts is quite nice’, so after a litter hunt we traipsed to Phoebe’s temporary home. That cat is heavy.

How’s is all going? Well as you can see from the picture below she has found a furry thrown to lounge on. She did something very camp when she first got on which was hiss at it before rolling all over it with love… so fickle. We also gave her some catnip (its like feline dope) which made her love everything and everyone for about ten minutes.

Polly has now gone and Phoebe is a little bit jumpy but seems to be settling in nicely. She seems to be quite happy with me bar one picking up incident which almost ended in tears, mine. We have had about an hour of loud sad mewing at the front door, some disappearing in wardrobes and under the oven, then an overexcited jump onto the bed which ended in her falling off and now sleepily sulking back on the rug. I am calling all this adjustment!

Pain & Pride, Plus Some Winehouse & Madonna

2008-08-17T11:48:00.001+01:00

So after the new ‘Simon becomes a Gym Bunny’ phase that has been going on for just under two weeks (I’m not spotting any difference yet) I had my first meeting with the gorgeous and lovely personal trainer Mario from Sweatbox who is breaking me into newer exercise routines and such like. When I arrived to meet him I thought we would be doing exercises in the gym and using the vibration plates Ms Minogue does, if they are good enough for Kylie they are good enough for me. This was not what Mario had in mind… at all!

Ten minutes later I was changed and outside, five later I was running down Oxford Street. That’s right Simon Savidge was RUNNING down Oxford Street, and not to buy the last fabulous bag from Selfridges or anything like that! The run, that turned into a walk then a fast walk then a run, ended up in Regents Park where I was then made to do some vile exercises that will help with my back and Yoga. I think the people in the park were as shocked to see me doing it as I was to be actually doing it. Dare I say I actually enjoyed it? I did you know, I mean my legs are hurting, I hate to imagine the pain to come after he made me do things to stretch every muscle in my body, I am walking like John Wayne but I feel quite good. I now await his call for training volume two, you are bound to hear about it (I don’t mean the screams of pain and protest) when I embark on the next session. I was invited to the Foam Party tonight but think will leave that for when am trimmer!

I then waddled to the Curzon to meet Mr S, for we and several of our Brazilian chums were out for Soho Pride (via China Town for Dim Sum). Can I ask why London needs two prides or is that a very silly question? It wasn’t half bad and I had a real laugh, the streets were teaming, the sunshine was out and I got some good snaps (sadly none of the Gaydar camp as someone had messed up my press passes oh well) but I did make it to see two fabulous acts on the QX stage, sadly I missed Antigone who’s single ‘More Man Than Man’ is amazing. The first act was Tania Gornall Alboni as Amy Winehouse and she is amazing, see picture below.

She had the voice down to a ‘T’ it’s an amazing voice and she’s really talented and looks the spit of Amy, really, really good. Her rendition of ‘Valerie’ had everyone going. Speaking of Valerie, Carlos’ boyfriend turned up with a box of Patisserie Valerie cakes not long after as he works there, this was truly selfish of him as after my work out I shouldn’t have, but I had to. The toffee éclair was too tempting for me. After 'The Wino' we got Madonna in the form of Melissa Totten who was awesome.

Dare I say she was actually better at being Madonna than Madonna sometimes is (have I performed a gay blasphemy)… and she sang live! She’ll be doing something very special in a forthcoming edition of Bent (not Septembers but Octobers) which you will all have to look out for, I’ll be blogging about it to death next week as I am very excited and she is very lovely. After those two highlights we tried to get into Camp Gaydar again but the queue was still stupid and we couldn’t be arsed so we bought lots of booze from one of the mini markets, I actually only had diet coke, and drank in the street with all the other gay men and women, it was brilliant. Eventually drizzle came and my legs gad started to make me wince when walking so decided was time for home. Delicious day all in all though.

The White Flat with the Picket Fence Has Gone

2008-08-11T16:33:00.000+01:00

Do you ever walk into somewhere and instantly know that it’s where you should live? Now stop thinking about random friends or families lovely houses or stately homes you have visited, or even your house as I know some of you will be sat there smugly thinking ‘but I have that already’. Now think about when you’re on the flat hunting trail. Think about the endless appointments, the treks up and down the northern line (or whichever line you live on or wish to live on) and there it is the house of your dreams, and no one else has put a holding deposit down, your brain creates the life you’ll be living… and then your Brazilian husbands family ruin it all as you have half but they do too and won’t give it back.

I have just had that, finally after months of looking the perfect house had arrived, well perfect flat. It was indeed white and though it didn’t have a picket fence it did have a stunning balcony. We had glimpsed the neighbours, a lovely old lady who had 4 cats, a single mum and her 2 year old son, and a couple who were lawyers or something and some medical students upstairs. It was like a London version of Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City if you threw in a gay… oh hang on that’s me. Now this isn’t a blog to drone on about the negatives but just to show how crazy someone’s brain can go.

In my head I had become best friends with the neighbours and become all of there best friends e.g. I would babysit for the single mother and share the odd glass of wine on the balcony talking about the ‘perils of men’. I would do the shopping for the old cat lady next door making sure she knew they would be in perfect hands while she went on a saga holiday and that her prized tomatoes wouldn’t get eaten by slugs in the communal garden. I would always have spare sugar for the lawyers and be happy to set up some of their single male friends with any of my single friends of the appropriate sex -as a) must be pc and b) you never know when you need a good lawyer – and offering to watch the flat if they when to the Maldives. All in all generally being an amazing neighbour and joining the tenant’s board and neighbourhood watch.

I had also joined the area for this flat was not in Tooting but in Balham, so I had joined the local community in my head also. I had been to the library and joined the local book group, joined the leisure centre for swimming every other day – its still as close to the gym as I am now. I also volunteered on Sundays for one of the charity shops and also was lunching and coffee morning-ing with some of my friends in some of the great bars and restaurants, especially the French one.

All this I had done in my head in a matter of hours, yes hours not minutes. Now it’s all gone, can you tell I’m not bitter?

An OMO in a Sweat-Box

2008-08-10T19:27:00.004+01:00

So I had a bit of a working weekend this weekend and hoped it would wash the woes away and indeed it did. Sometimes I love my job and other times I really love my job. This weekend has been one of the latter. Occasionally I get to do some great bar reviews where the staff are lovely and the drinks are flowing, but when I got asked to review a gym and spa, well how could I say no? I must admit I did snigger at the thought of me reviewing a gym as though I am back in the swing of training I am nowhere near Gym Bunny standard. I also thought this might be interesting as normally if I go to a gym I get the ‘oh you are really gonna have your work cut out aren’t you?’ and that’s just from a straight gym, so would a gay gym be as bitchy?

The answer is a resounding no! I walked in and Mark and Jason are bloody lovely. They make you feel instantly at home. I won’t do a full review on here as it’ll be in the next issue of Bent all I will say is wow. They have gone to town with a masculine sexy red and black theme in the gym with vibration plates (which Kylie uses and I will be trying next weekend) which are going to be huge, but not in a fad kind of way. I will report on those then. On the middle floor are a lovely spa pool, and several steam rooms still in the red and black theme and then on a floor down is the locker room and a sauna area with cabins which I didn’t really check out as a free Jacuzzi and steam room hello, I know my priorities. After had spa’d for some serious time, it was time for me to head home and get ready for a night out at OMO when I got asked if I would like to come back in the week and have a massage… hmmm that was a tough one, I’ll let you know how I get on. It’s Hot Rock Massage apparently; does anyone know what that is?

So OMO, is it any different to GAY? In terms of the venue I have to say no, they have added a DJ booth in the bar upstairs so that’s now an edgy pop/indie/R&B room, they have also painted that area black with everyone’s favourite… a few disco balls. Then on the main stage are three massive light display letters spelling OMO and in the middle of the M sits the DJ, very nice. The music is very current and slightly less like someone’s just plugged in their iPod on random, but hey what do I know I can’t DJ. The one thing that really makes the difference is the customers. They have changed.

Now either from the dizzy heights of the balcony, where I would sit for GAY, everyone either looked like a chicken/twink or a chicken/twink hawk or it was the case. Tonight what I truly loved was the mix. There were less of them but still a 18 (and possibly under but shush you mustn’t say that) to 20 band of people, then there were the twinks, but there were lots of lesbians which I always like, bears, grey gays, indie boys and everyone mixed quite happily. It was a bit like certain Vauxhall haunts but without the attitude, sort of. I am digging a whole saying that. I would advise you all to go and see for yourselves. I must retire now, working (aka drinking and spa-ing) so hard on a weekend is most tiring for one, ha.

Leave It, It's Family

2008-08-05T07:04:00.000+01:00

Again a big bout of no blogging, do I have a good excuse? I will have you know I kind of have three, so there! Firstly of course last week was Kylie week and though I want to scream about it from the rooftops, until I get the pictures and can make even more of the world jealous I shall stay silent on the matter. The second is the fact that ‘Project MD’ is going really well, it started as a small thought process and has now gone off into the stratosphere with over 4000 last night and am praying for a full day of it one have blogged. All I need next is approval from the Du Maurier Estate; I’m being a bit vague aren’t I? Let’s move on…

So the big reason things have been quiet? Stress. Mr S and I have been having endless meetings and paying stupid fee’s to sell some property in Brazil. ‘We’ (which is technically more ‘he’ but it doesn’t matter now we are hitched) has some property out there and we decided to sell one in order to buy here. So far, so boring! Now Mr S has often told me of the drama of his family, they are in fact one of those Socialite ‘Dynasty’ kind of families in Brazil, I am hoping this makes me Alexis when we go over I so cant wait for them to meet me I have so much now to say to them, and his parents divorced was big news as they owned a chain of hotels and went from partners to bitter rivals.

Glamorous in a highly 80’s way, with feuds, drama and then tragedy as Mr S’s Mum got cancer and passed away a few years ago. This was when his brothers showed their true colours. They sold all the hotels to their Dad, even though her dying wish was they wouldn’t. Now also to add a bit of spice they also locked his Mum in a room, it got seriously crazy and weird. So Mr S knew that they had the capacity to be evil, untrustworthy and malicious. Hey we all have that somewhere in the family don’t we?

Now his Dad has never wanted to sell his house and Mr S’s adjoining one, so when he suddenly offered as we were thinking about the same thing it seemed perfect and so we started to go along with it. When a document arrived from Brazil which Mr S was to sign saying his Dad could sell it I had a few reservations, but it’s for Mr S to decide so I stayed quiet and also ‘baby, I did this before with my brother its fine.’ I wish I had spoken up, randomly it wouldn’t have mattered. This document has taken months and pounds to get sorted. It was sent special delivery to Brazil (not a cheap thing at £70 for a letter) but even though was signed for at his Dad’s hotel has still never arrived. I had alarm bells ringing even though Mr S was adamant ‘everything was fine’.

Saturday it all kicked off, I dropped a hint as to how earlier ‘baby, I did this before with my brother its fine’ and his brother has sold the property given the money to Mr S’s dad who has now not sent it to us, but bought a new hotel with it, and obviously his own money on top, not much though you should have seem the house. It’s like a Brazilian version of The Mitchell’s. So now a legal battle starts, I am thinking of getting the 80’s shoulder padded pastel suits on (partly to look like Alexis and partly because Oxfam will be the only place I will be shopping for the near future) in readiness. But this is where it gets truly twisted… on the phone to Mr S his Dad was laughing saying ‘you can’t sue me, it’s your brother who did it… sue him’ yes that’s right not content with screwing over one son he has done it to two. What a great family I married into! Mr S was trying to console himself last night (in all seriousness and drama free now, he is devastated his family have treated him like this) with the fact that he has my parents now. I don’t think my answer of ‘oh you mean the Dad who was a complete arse the week before we got married and I have now disowned, or my 41 year old mother who in the last month seems to have forgotten how to use a phone, or just forgotten she has any older children?’

Aren’t families the best?

Fitness First

2008-07-29T18:00:00.001+01:00

I haven’t blogged for a while which is quite un-me. I haven’t really had much to say which is even more unlike me. I have joined the gym (again very unlike me) and have to say that right now Fitness First is not my favourite place in the world. I have had this whole ‘I wanna get fit’ rush already and that didn’t work, mind you let’s look into why that was.

I decided back at New Year that I was gonna have a new start. I had left my second job as an Office Manager (voluntary redundancy) and had a promotion at Bent so I thought stuff it I have more time on my hands let’s get me fit.

I ummmed and ahhhed over a few different places (there is a gorgeous Holmes Place near me – way too expensive for what it is though the pool was to die for) and so I thought I would give the former council Leisure Centre my service. It was a good deal, you didn’t have a contract you could leave whenever. That changed at my first training session. I had to have my photo taken so in three months they could prove that I had lost weight, if I hadn’t I had failed. This really bugged me a) how much pressure must they be putting on people b) to tell someone who wants to loose weight and tries hard they have ‘failed’ is wrong. Within a week I had been 4 times and was so proud of myself, until the guy came over checked my sheet and said ‘no, no you’ve not been doping what your training says you should, you cant pick and chose, do you want to get fit?’ Funnily enough that was the last time I went and people wondered why. There was also a weird incident with two guys who really freaked me out in the sauna but that’s not for now.

So as my beloved is now working for Fitness First and hopes to become a personal trainer, the gym is now free, I feel slightly more like I should be an advert for his healthy lifestyle (he hasn’t made me feel like this he is adverse to me loosing the weight at all) I am back in a gym. This time I love it! Ok that’s not true, I still hate it, but I know it’s a means to an end. I am wondering if I should go again before my very important date with a certain KM tomorrow?????? Ha, if only one day at the gym made you shed all your weight. Next I need to find a local gym buddy lol.

IN OTHER NEWS
Bar the gym am trying to think of what else have been up to as it’s been nearly a week. We scattered Hoyden’s ashes last Friday Mr S, The Ex and me. I think The Ex found it the hardest out of all of us, I guess me and MR S had seen her and knew it was for the best whereas The Ex only saw her when she just got ill.

Saw a late night (leaving the cinema at 2am) showing of The Dark Knight on Saturday, which was after a major sulk that I didn’t get invited by Mr S to go to the motor show – I didn’t actually want to but that’s not the point lol. It’s amazing and I know everyone is now going all ‘Heath Ledger shouldn’t get an Oscar after he’s dead’ well actually he should. I have to say he blew me away and every scene with him seemed to have so much more presence. Having said that the whole film is awesome and I am definitely going to have to see it again on the big screen.

Other than that I have been seriously reviewing books and reading like a demon which *self promotion alert* you can see at http://savidgereads.blogspot.com have you seen the Man Booker list? I am a bit ‘meh’ about it all. Glad Child 44 is on there as the book snobs have already started bemoaning that. I think they should have a younger male of about 26 on the judge’s panel rather than Michael Portaloo don’t you? Right off to eat celery sticks!

Martin Fry Makes A Great Cuppa

2008-07-22T21:37:00.004+01:00

Today I had the pleasure of interviewing one of the 80’s Pop Greats (and if more people had bought ‘Traffic’ which is actually very, very good without them needing to reinvent themselves with Timbaland – yes I do mean Duran Duran and Madonna) anyway some of you will know who this legend is and others of you won’t. In all honesty until this week if I had walked past Martin in the street I wouldn’t have known who he was, thanks to Wikipedia, Youtube, Google and Dom Agius I now know he is the lead singer of ABC of ‘The Lexicon of Love’ album with the mammoth ‘Look of Love’ single.

Normally I get to meet people in a café/bar/hotel room, today I got to go to his house and I was jealous, very, very jealous - gorgoeus house, fabulous cars and a gorgeous Pug, after loosing Hoyden I am magnetised towards animals. Instead of starting the interview straight away I was diverted spending about 15 minutes playing with him and another one they were looking after until they started getting jealous of the other and had a massive scrap. I quote the visiting dog 'normally spends his days in Monolo Bloniks, he's a working boy'. Martin was lovely and the interview didn’t start for 40minutes after it should as firstly I was intoduced to the family and then we were gassing away about the ‘north’. Chesterfield and Sheffield maybe in different counties but they are really close. So we’d already had a Yorkshire Tea before we’d even started. Sadly I didn't take any photo's I didnt think it would be too cool in someones house, I kind of wish I had.

The interview wad great, he was very gracious not showy off, he was down to earth and just really friendly and that to me makes a great celebrity interview. He gave me some good bitchy quotes but not in a horrid way in a very well humoured way. Yes that’s my excuse when I have a good bitch. The Steel City Tour is coming around the UK in December and I’ll be at it for sure. One final thing before I go – a big thank you to Mr Agius for his 20 minute ABC lesson and for giving me some deeper insight into the group and for the cartoon knowledge. In fact now that I have had his words of wisdom and downloaded the discography I could be an expert on ABC. Next time I have a big 80’s popstar to interview I know who to send… Unless of course its Kylie or Madonna, then he can just come in my man bag! I’m off to find myself a pug, so I can dress it like this…

Whatever Happened To 'The Letter' (and Penpals)?

2008-07-18T18:50:00.008+01:00

After reading what I think has easily been on of my favourite books this year ‘The Mitford’s Letters Between Six Sisters’ (which you can see a review of, and many others, on my book blog http://savidgereads.blogspot.com/) it left me wondering if there were six sisters going through the same things what would be left, maybe a book of texts or a book of emails? I miss the letter, where has it gone? I also watched the fabulous Bette Davis film ‘The Letter’ today so that’s another reason that I think this has been strong in my mind, you wouldn’t get the same story line if it was ‘The Text’.

When I was about 17 a friend Barry and myself used to write each other twice a week and these weren’t just notes these were eight or nine sides of A4. I look back at them and squirm because I was 16, thought I knew it all and was so adult, I had left home (run away) the summer before and so was a turmoil of hormones, coming out, the works. I also did this with several other friends and these letters are really dear to me. (I have started to talk more like a Mitford, it was an addictive world).

Then of course there were the 'penpals' at school. Did everyone have those, we had a school from Marlboro in America which our head teacher thought was very clever as we were in Marlborough Wiltshire. Mine was called Ruth and looked like a man... I shall say no more. It was a pleasant relationship the 6 months it lasted, sadly we werent very interested in each other (I think same sex would have been more out ideal pen pal) unlike Matthew one of the French Exchange students I had a fabulous few months with and wrote to for five years before he threatened to come over and live here! No thanks! He wasnt even my exchange student, he was a classmates.

Looking back its cringe worthy but its part of my past and I am so glad that I still have those. I also really looked forward to those letters, sometimes waiting at the window for the postman; doesn’t that sound fabulously Jane Austen? It’s true though, now the only thing I wait for in the post is the latest book I’ve swapped on readitswapit.co.uk or DVD from lovefilm.com. The only other post I get is junk mails, bills or statements.

Also I know the state of Royal Mail has declined somewhat but then when people are hardly using it and spending money on it how can we begrudge that, actually we can but you know what I mean, and then people are also in uproar that its likely Saturday post will be cancelled in the future. I blame the telephone, which I am a fan of as I spend several hours a week on it to family as they aren’t really into emailing and sadly seem to have lost the will to write; when I was younger I used to get loads of letters from them.

So as they say that friends are the family you choose to have, I am sending out a plea to my blog friends… lets start writing letters, seriously. I am being 100% genuine; I would love to have a legacy of letters to leave for my family. They’ll probably want rid of them but as long as they recycle them that’s fine. You never know though they may find them of historical (or hysterical) value one day. So if you’re up for it, drop me a message! I thank you.

Books Glorious Book Blogging

2008-07-17T13:50:00.000+01:00

As most of you who know me will know I am sure I am a bit of a book geek. I love reading and would choose reading over the TV any day frankly. Well maybe not everyday as I love a good movie but you get the drift. My mother and grandmother are to blame. Both of them have rooms with literally a whole wall that’s been turned into a massive set of book shelves both have easily over a thousand books (and that’s only on show), they too read like there is no tomorrow although my mother seems to have taken a backseat on this one of late and is still reading a book she’d started over two months ago, most unlike her. We discuss books on the phones at length; we are all parts of a duo that started book groups. The list could go on and as you could see I can waffle (in general too) on about books until the cows come home.

So rather than bore people to death (as people seem less bookish these days) who I know that aren’t avid readers or authors I have bored to death already, or people I know who just don’t really read. I also have the pain of being married to a non-reader can be quite overwhelming, in fact even worse a non reader who bans you from buying books for having too many. What should I do? Someone sent me a link to Book Rabbit where seriously you can rabbit on about your fav books to your hearts content; I wanted something more personal too, like a book journal.

I decided to blog it all and have now created a new book blog, which at the mo is still a work in progress as I have written a stupid amount on books in the last year (but been so busy reading haven’t put them all up) that it only has a few ‘book thoughts’ and all the reviews of books I have read this year. People may role their eyes and say that these reviews are not long enough or bemoan another book blog, fine don’t read it! I don’t personally like reviews that never end and love other blogs where they sum up the book in less than 500 words and make you feel like you either do or don’t wanna read it! I would love publishers to send me books that I can review in advance, but that’s a dream that maybe one day will come true. For now I have no incentive or bias and am simply going to blog about my books and my book thoughts to my hearts content. If you should want to pop by you would be more than welcome.

It’s http://savidgereads.blogspot.com (and no sadly that picture is not my book shelf).

City Lights & The Lavender Library

2008-07-16T02:57:00.002+01:00

THIS IS A COPY OF A BLOG FROM THE CHILDREN OF POLARI... BUT I WROTE THAT ONE SO TECHNICALLY IT COUNTS AS MINE... SORT OF!

We have had two wonderful nights in The Queen Elizabeth Hall on the South Bank. On both nights we were there to support Polari and The House of Homosexual Culture, as they have their nights of Literary Debauchery and Decadence, as part of the London Literature Festival.

‘City Lights’ was a night of discussion by authors and the like (Rupert Smith, Stella Duffy, Q Boy, Paul Burston etc, etc) and their love for the city, and why gay men and women rush to the city as some kind of escape and re-invention. The conversations were very thought provoking. Daddy Burston and David Llewellyn (we’re working out if he is an uncle/cousin/step brother at present) were first up as ‘Small-town Boyo’s’ to talk about their earlier days – we aren’t saying ‘youth’ in case it offends and our pocket money is stopped – in Wales and their love for London. There were some very, very funny diary extracts from Bertie Marshall, some interesting thoughts on women who dressed up as women (like drag but women as women, it made sense if you were there) like Mae West from Andrea Stuart. Finale of the first half was Christopher Fowler on what the city has meant to him over the years.

The second half saw gorgeous fabulous wonderful Aunty Stella Duffy (can you tell we love her?) talking with Maureen Duffy about their work, the city, and how it can create a ‘reinvention’ for people. Stella read from ‘The Room of Lost Things’ which one of us has read (we won’t shame Polly – whoops) and can say is a beautifully written book about, starring and celebrating London and a host of wonderful characters and Maureen read some really moving poetry which she is releasing in September. Get us, first name terms with them all now. Funny Uncle Rupert then conversed with Brian Paddick (whom we warmed to muchly) about the city from a coppers perspective and as a closeted and then out gay man. Tres interesting indeed. Q Boy finished us all off (literally in some cases we are sure) with a very interesting speech about the work he is doing with kids in city schools and the dangers the city can have for gay people, as Brian had pointed out earlier. He then did some serious dancing and rapping over some disco and Kate Bush, what more could you want and that was night one. Below is a picture of us with Uncle Clayton who has a book ‘Dirty White Boy’ out later this year, in front of the mens loos no less! There are more pictures on Daddy Burston’s blog or in Daddy Agius’s photo’s. As this is our blog we’re making it all about us. Ha!

The Lavender Library was in the Queen Elizabeth Hall which is huge and it was at least two thirds full. Fabulous turn out. This was a night introduced by IoS Literary Editor Suzie Feay and kicked of with Funny Uncle Rupert discussing ‘City of Night’ by John Rechy which has a fantastic and saddening tale behind it and is no longer in print in the UK, Rupert felt very strongly about both the book and the fact that its not out here and we were quite moved by his passion. Next up was Diana Souhami who discussed the love affair of Gertrude Stein and Alice Tokias, we laughed (cowing) and were moved by this two. We would like a drunken dinner party with Diana, very dry sense of humour and wonderful timing. Singer David McAlmont championed James Baldwin and his novel ‘Giovanni’s Room’. Aunty Stella was up and discussing Patricia Highsmith and ‘Carol’ the first book where lesbians have a happy ending, and temping at Bloomsbury, we would love that job, we need say no more than this was a fabulous was to end the first half!

Daddy Burston opened up the second half with a talk on ‘Queens’ by Pickles, we shamefully had never heard of it but the excerpt showed that actually not a lot has changed on the gay scene (especially Heaven) like we like to think it has. Karen McLeod read from ‘Crocodile Soup’ which had everyone laughing and we are both desperate to become her new best friends and also get our hands on her book ‘In Search of the Missing Eyelash’ there are unconfirmed rumours she will be at Polari in January… cannot wait we may start stalking her! Not really, well, no we mustn’t. Andy Bell of Erasure discussed Joe Orton’s Diaries and had some very funny tales to tell. Julian Clary told us of EF Benson and his sexuality and Map & Lucia books. Phew, and then we were amongst the regulars Matt, Aruan, Paulo, Ben, May and Juliette of Polari (that we know so far) for some dancing and drinks. The bar closed too early but that didn’t stop us having fun from the last picture you’ll see. So with that we say goodnight and leave you with some pictures from Agius! If you’d like to see ones of other people other than us we’ve told you where to go… we mean other peoples blogs, we’re not that rude!

The Children of Polari with Daddies Burston & Agius and our gorgeous fabulous Aunty Stella.

Polari & The Gang... Everyone looking slightly like the Kids of Fame as Dom put it!

My Future In Movies

2008-07-13T12:33:00.000+01:00

Having had a ropey old Friday I had a weekend that was filled with vodka but also with quite a few movies and two of these leapt out at me as two possible versions of my future, and one that could quite easily feature Polly two. As you may know we have become, on the occasional evening, The Children of Polari and we were both wondering what the future could hold for such an unlikely duo.

Polly came round on Friday to be there for the thing I am not going to talk about and afterwards bought and cooked me dinner (I was a bit all over the shop) and then got me very drunk on Ribena and Cava followed by Peach vodka and lemonade. While we were enjoying these we watched ‘Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?’ which is one of my all time favourite movies. Bette Davis is just amazing and so, so wickedly evil. The tale is of two sisters one of whom becomes a child star and then the other an adult star, jealousy and envy flare leading in one running over the other… from then on its simply high drama and high camp action! Amazing acting! In some sick and twisted way this film made us think of us though now we are concerned over who is Baby Jane and who is Blanche? …Answers on a postcard please.

We had planned a fabulous DVD night to happen next week but a) we are both up to the nines next week and seeing each other three nights in a row already and b) I needed the support then, so sadly the other film that we had wanted to watch hadn’t arrived from Lovefilm.com yet. This is one of Polly’s favourites and the reason she thought we should watch it will become apparent. It arrived on Saturday.

‘Grey Gardens’ isn’t so much a film as a documentary. It was filmed in 1976 at the home of Jackie O’s cousins Big and Little Edie Bouvier. These women had been seriously renowned women in their day in the 1920’s and 1940’s. However they had become a pair of recluses, the house was decaying around them and they had cats, cats galore and fleas as well as you found out.

They were both completely mad as you could see from the documentary, they had wild raccoons living in the attic which Little Edie would go and feed despite the fact that these cute little monsters where tearing down walls in other parts of the house. Big Edie and Little Edie both spent much of the time in a permanent sing off against one another which is hilarious to watch and were both prone to uncontrollable rages. One minute they were mother and daughter the best of friends, the next they were like two cats fighting. Oh and the cats, these women were living in one room (with a fridge which only seemed to stock ice-cream and a camp burner that only ever seemed to boil sweetcorn) and they had cats everywhere and they were doing all sorts of business all over the room. Seriously you must see it, it’s beyond belief. And to add to the campness of it it’s now also a musical www.greygardensthemusical.com it appears I don’t need a crystal ball to see my future or two possibilities.

I quite like the idea of being a crazy old cat man!

A Devastating Day

2008-07-11T23:46:00.005+01:00

Today has been horrific, after the phone call from the vets yesterday there was sadly nothing I could do for Hoyden the cancer had won without us even knowing it was attacking till Monday, and after her leg stopped working last night she became quieter and seemed un-Hoyden-like (though still wanting lots and lots of cuddles, which she got, and to be carried around like the Queen that she was, which she did) so I knew it couldnt wait any longer. So after a day of spoiling, tears and endless cuddles, this evening I took her to the vets and she passed away at 6pm in my arms (Polly was a star and came and looked after me as Mr S had to work - he is heartbroken, the man who hated cats was charmed by little Madam Hoyden) so thats that. I feel absolutely devastated and so am off to hit the vodka big time.

Heres a little memory of a very precious pussy cat.

Polari, Just The Tonic I Needed

2008-07-09T17:09:00.007+01:00

After the crappy start to the beginning of the week I was unsure if I was going to be able to make Polari or not, after a few calls with Polly, Dom and Mitch (who came to her first ever Polari last night) I decided that Polari would be just the tonic, decided my eye, I KNEW that it would be the perfect tonic. It was. It’s the busiest I have ever seen it, there was standing room only. The reason, apart from Polari being a fabulous night out, was that Will Self was giving a reading with Paul Burston hosting and Dom Agius DJing.

He was brilliant, very witty more than happy to talk about his time as an ‘omee-palone’ have I lost you, don’t know your Polari? Well maybe you should do some research, if you had been there last night you would have been given a glossary Paul had created and Polly and myself as our alter-ego’s ‘The Children of Polari’ handed them out to one and all. He was there to talk about and read from his reworking of The Picture of Dorian Gray as well as its author Oscar Wilde.

He was a superb reader and had the audience enthralled with accents, singing and some brilliant questions and answers. I am sure you can see the results from this picture below of the rapt (and one heavy eye lined menber of the) audience.

Mitch fitted right in (as you can see from the photo of Dom’s embrace below - thank you Dom for the photo's) and said she definitely wants to become a regular all the way from Hertfordshire. She had me in hysterics when she produced a Mills & Boon out of her bag. This one was special; it was a Modern Romance which Mitch announced ‘means he makes her a sandwich or some toast before a romp being a true modern man’. See the literature discussed at Polari is varied.

Yes it was just the escapism that I needed. Though there isn’t another one until September, what am I going to do with myself? Oh that’s right its City Lights and the Lavender Library as part of the London Literary Festival next Monday and Tuesday. Finally a picture of the children of Polari with their parents…

Sleepless Night

2008-07-07T12:20:00.001+01:00

I have always said that I really want kids and for a second time I am now questioning that fully. Ok, how do I explain this? They say that pets are like your children and I am cat mad. In fact it has often been a joke at parties and at birthdays when I open the fifth cat related present or twentieth cat covered card that I am going to end up being one of those old women (?) who ends up alone in a bungalow, with a jungle for a garden and 50 cats.

Sadly today the idea couldn’t be further from the truth. I was going to sit down and write a blog about how lame pride has become, how brilliant I thought Dirty Books was and how much I loved being in a Pop band for 30minutes on Saturday at GAY, when sat with laptop on bed last night when I noticed my cat (Hoyden) had a swollen leg. I had to mentally track back all the 4 hours I had been awake before 9pm to think if myself or Mr S had trodden on her foot or she had done one of her stupendous (and stupid) jumps onto something that ends in a miss and a puzzled moggy on the floor. Neither of these had happened. The worry started, how had my cat broken her leg without me noticing? Bad parent/owner point #1

So an emergency call to the vets later I was told not to worry it would probably be a bite but if her breathing became erratic or her gums went whiter than normal I must call back. Rubbish parent/owner point #2 – I have no idea what colour Hoydens gums are normally. This morning after a night of practically no sleep (I slept with her in the bathroom for half the night worried about her breathing, so in fact I lay with her, I didn’t sleep) there was no change so called the vets and off we went.

The vet will be receiving a letter from me this week in how to talk to humans, it seems he can only speak appropriately to cats arses. It wasn’t a successful trip. The good news? No broken leg. The bad, it’s a tumour, or as the vet said ‘this is most likely a secondary tumour, there isn’t much circulation to this leg’ she has another in her tummy. My chin must have hit the floor. I nearly hit him when two seconds later he said ‘Mr Savidge does this look like a well cat to you?’ Now Hoyden is slim, she eats like a monster and so gets a bit of a potbelly, I have only had her since she was five (I got her and her sister from friends who had a baby the cats were trying to kill) and she had always been like this. Which I told him and the tale of the rescue of the baby killers from a fate worse than Battersea. Why did I feel I had to explain myself to this worm? By this time I felt like the most neglectful owner ever – rubbish parent/owner point #3.

The diagnosis isn’t good. In all likely hood she will probably have to be put to sleep. Now some people will think a 26 year old man being heartbroken like this is pathetic and in some ways I should pull myself together. They have done two hundred pounds worth of blood tests and as the receptionist said ‘the results will be in on Wednesday’ said vet popped his head through the door and said ‘Thursday, I am on holiday on Wednesday’ yes I am sure he is with the money I have just spent the f**ker! Just when I didn’t think I could feel lousier the receptionist adds ‘you must really not like this place, the last time you were here was to pick your other cats ashes up wasn’t it?’ Bad parent/owner point #4! And for once I was speechless!

Now after some very distraught phone calls and a big weep, Hoyden and I are in bed cuddling and she has a bag of Sainsbury’s goodies awaiting her in the kitchen. I have now been over indulgent after being announced the worst owner of animals by buying her all her favourites, Petits Filous (only the strawberry ones) a potato (she loves the peel) and various other things I probably shouldn’t have bought. Bad parent/owner #5. If I cant be a good cat owner then I am going to be one lousy father! But is it bad that I want the last few days to be the best she ever has? I’m not sure it is.

Laughalot at Spamalot & Introducing 'The Children of Polari'

2008-07-03T17:39:00.002+01:00

Last night I had the joy of Spamalot, which I can honestly say I didn’t think I was going to enjoy even though I used to laugh at Monty Python when the uncles and aunties were watching it. I was wrong, by the interval Muffintop and I had tears rolling down our cheeks, and I have not laughed like that for a long time. The second half was equally as good with one of the most fabulous ‘camp’ (a severe understatement) scenes I have ever seen on stage, and that’s saying something, you must go its fabulous.

I had done an interview for a forthcoming (September) issue of Bent Magazine with the delightful and delicious Paul Burston and Dom Agius all about Polari. We went to the lovely Maison Bertaux on Greek Street which is a secret little (very) coffee and cake shop where everything is fresh and fabulous, another recommendation from me. I was talking with the chaps and ‘The Children of Polari’ came up again.

It had previously been mentioned at the last Polari when we had a picture with Paul and he hugged us saying ‘my children’ and I suppose you could say an idea was born, without any of us knowing it. It came up again today and later when Paul and I were reunited at Teatro for the Spamalot Party, both of us arriving with two fabulous women, mine of course being the other child of Polari, Polly. Is this making sense? So it was mentioned again and after Paul had departed (he was very well behaved as the wine was flowing excessively) Muffintop Polly and I kept discussing The Children of Polly and now after some work, there is a site www.myspace.com/thechildrenofpolari so get adding!We’ve had some cracking ideas for it so watch that space.

Here is a picture of us with Daddy Burston that I have stolen of his blog, I hope he won’t mind!

A fabulous fruitful day all in all, oh and on Dom’s advice have purchased ‘The Pursuit of Love’ by Nancy Mitford, I am becoming slightly obsessed with those sisters! Now with having a fun filled day yesterday (I also downloaded the whole back catalogue of Donna Summer) and fun and frolics on myspace most of the day today I better do some work.

A Midsummer Nights Dream

2008-06-28T23:37:00.000+01:00

A warm sunny evening (which I had been worried would turn out to be a rainy one) in the open air watching Shakespeare was the perfect Saturday night tonight. Maybe this is another sign of my early middle age? I was in The Rookery in Streatham Common to watch Big Sis as Helena, a fairy (snigger) and Peter Quince in A Midsummer Nights Dream. I haven’t watched Shakespeare for ages and actually did A Midsummer Nights Dream for GCSE so I was excited with slight reservations, I thought Shakespeare wasn’t my cup of tea my opinion has now been changed.

I had brought an unlikely pair of supporters, unlikely as in them not as in unlikely for my sis – the gays love her! I was with my husband and my ex boyfriend, who actually gang up on me. I will say I am never shopping with them ever again, part of the joy of the ‘open air’ was that you could sit and eat and drink as much as you liked as the show was on. The picnic was the route of a 40 minute shop based solely on three of the most indecisive gay men you have ever met, we agreed on booze that was all, and I actually had to walk off at one point. Six bottles of Bucks Fizz and a bag of sumptuous goodies to eat later we got the bus to the venue, almost door to door.

My sis had been worrying that it wouldn’t be as good as its first night five star reviews and she needn’t have worried, a mixed audience of young children to some golden oldies were laughing and at several points impromptu clapping from the performances on show. Not being biased but Holly as Helena was simply wonderful, her comic timing was spot on and I was in hysterics during the ‘Spaniel’ scene. Titania was fabulous but I do think that Bottom stole the show, with Puck just a little behind, oh I made a bottom joke then.

Here are some photos from the show starting with my dates for the evening the husband and the ex…

Holly dressed as a man aka Peter Quince

A wonderful Titania

The Spaniel Scene

A gathering of Fairy Folk

Puck & King of the Fairies

A brilliant Bottom

Holly the Hussy… sorry Helena the Hussy

If you have the chance please do go and see this its brilliant the link is http://www.facsimileproductions.co.uk/ I laughed, drank and like the rest of the audience had quite A Midsummer Nights Dream of an evening!

The Foundling Museum

2008-06-26T23:35:00.000+01:00

Tonight was the TLS (Times Literary Supplement) Summer Party and I had the honour of being invited to a wonderful event in the most amazing venue. The party was in full force when I arrived at The Foundling Museum with various authors, journalists and then the likes of me (ha) enjoying canapés, alcohol and the fantastic art in an amazing historical building. It was like on of those gallery openings or fabulous parties you get in Sex & the City… sort of. We weren’t allowed red wine as apparently it can destroy paint, you learn something random every day.

I have to admit had it not been for going tonight I would have had no idea that The Foundling Museum existed and certainly not in the centre of London. It looks on approach like one of the houses that you would get in Pride and Prejudice, one that belonged to a wealthy family. The history of the building is in fact that it was once part of a hospital and home for the children left unwanted that building was sadly mainly demolished in 1926. Its estimate at the time of the hospitals opening in 1793 that up to a thousand babies and children or more a year were left deserted in London.

Like most galleries and museums today it now houses its permanent galleries and its temporary ones, the current temporary exhibition is the works of the Italian painter Giuseppe Fioroni and the paintings are absolutely beautiful. It was actually artist William Hogarth who started the museum “encouraged leading artists of the day to donate works to the children’s home, with the aim of attracting wealthy potential benefactors” and you can still see some of these works today. One particular Hogarth Painting located on the ground floor has a brilliant story behind it, I will leave that for your visit and the guides to tell you but it involves prostitution, persecution and some very good luck, sounds like a novel.

What amazed me was the free reign that we had in the venue (which can be hired out obviously), three floors of fantastic art work and on the fourth floor is an amazing collection of Handel’s original music compositions and books, and it’s absolutely wonderful. I should really have written more about the party but the building was the star of the show for me. You can find out much more about it at http://www.foundlingmuseum.org.uk/ it’s honestly worth a visit.

Married A Month

2008-06-24T18:40:00.000+01:00

‘Happy Anniversary Baby’ was the greeting I got when I phoned Mr S at work. I was puzzled as he is very good with anniversaries and I am not, I remember our actual anniversary as it was his birthday but its in November not June. He will literally remember the anniversary by month of when we got engaged, when he moved in, everything. I on the other hand only feel that two need to be remembered long term. ‘What anniversary?’ I asked. He was unimpressed. ‘It’s a month we’ve been married baby.’ Oh! Now I was actually very good buying him a present on the first week and first fortnight, the month anniversary had slipped me by. I think this has a lot to do with too much research on the Mitford’s and also worrying about my mother, more of both of these in a blog some other time.

So a month has whizzed past in fact time has really flown by, and we still haven’t been on honeymoon. The honeymoon is being sorted in the background at the moment I just have a massive deadline looming so once everything is handed in I can holiday in bliss.

Has anything changed, I don’t think it has especially? I love him more and more, I know that’s very ‘smug married’ but it is indeed true I have never thought he was cuter. I asked Mr S what had changed bar his surname. ‘Well frankly I just feel an extra load of responsibility.’ I am so glad that romance isn’t dead; we did both notice there was a slight difference after the whole ‘wedding’ had calmed down, there’s an extra bond.

I think we both now think as a ‘we’ now more than a ‘me’. I have also become some kind of deranged housewife. I have never cooked this many pies, cakes, curries etc from scratch in my life, all because I just want to, its very wrong. We are going out together a lot more but that might be more to do with his new job. We are still having sex (possibly more) so that myth is a load of rubbish… so far! We also annoy each other tenfold, the nit picking seems to have started in Mr S, and he has also used the expression ‘what’s yours is now mine you know’ twice. We have decided we need a bigger flat and possibly some new pets (we had our first major row over a kitten I had said yes to, I lost and missed out on a gorgeous moggy), mind you I have noticed Mr S is now looking at adoption sites, but that is a whole can of worms I am not quite ready for yet, give me a year or two. For now I am just enjoying it being us, oh and the cat.

Dreams & Nightmares

2008-06-23T19:39:00.000+01:00

Dreams are odd things aren’t they? Nightmares are indeed evil and odder things. I have been mulling this over for the past week, it was an idea for something I was going to write but didn’t work, and I have been keeping a list of the things that I have been dreaming about for the last week, not that I will list them all.

Some people don’t remember there dreams, I cannot imagine what this must be like… boring I guess. I am the opposite I am a big dreamer (and yes sometimes in the day too) and they stick with me, not every single one as we apparently have thousands a night, dreams in fact only apparently last between a minute and 3 minutes real time yet they can last months in your head. Most of my dreams I noticed from last week were about money, family and friends, famous people, big brother and sex (though we wont discuss the latter as Mr S calls it mental cheating), I was shocked I had dreamt about Big Brother so much.

I always have had dreams that are based around what I am watching and sadly this year Big Brother is something I have been avidly watching, though I do think its gone very boring suddenly. So naturally I have been dreaming I am in the house with all of them blah, blah. When I was younger well in my teens I used to have similar dreams based on my viewing. The New Adventures of Superman was a favourite for a while, there was a long standing run of dreams involving being the latest housemate in This Life (funnily enough I haven’t dreamt of being a new farmer on The Archers… yet).

Last year I was heavily dreaming I was in Torchwood and Doctor Who which was fantastic. How do our heads come up with such vivid dreams and why oh why can we not control them? It appears my reading is effecting my dreams as I dreamt about a man who jumped from a building and splattered on the street, I am reading Tess Gerritsens ‘The Apprentice’ and that’s pretty much the opening scene, only it’s a plane not a roof.

I had the one we all have, I dreamt I had received a mammoth amount of money and had been on a major shopping spree, so real was it that when I woke up I looked instantly for one of the things I had bought and had that sinking feeling when realised that no it was a dream.

Nightmares are something that I used to get lots of when I was a child, two that I particularly remember are one where a car was following me in the woods and had a witch in the front seat who I knew was going to kill me, and another of a giant that chased me followed by an evil ballerina who as she spun made the noise of nails on a blackboard, she by far was my childhood worst nightmare, and I can still see her now. I used to have these nightmares reoccurring quite often.

I had two nasty ones last week. One was that Bong was really, really cross with me and wouldn’t speak to me or explain why he was so angry. I had a horrid morning after that where as he died last year I couldn’t phone him to see if it was true or not and so just felt crappy all day. The other which was very strange was that I ended up with a second husband (don’t know what happened to Mr S poor swine) who was a combination of two of my ex’s we had children and everything was lovely until he murdered us all. The strangest bit was afterwards when I had died I was in a car being driven to the site I was buried under and daisies had spelt out mine and my children’s names to show the police where our bodies were.

Mr S said the next day ‘I think your sleeping head is mental’, he could be right only I find that ironic coming from someone who sings in Portuguese in the night, dreams of ‘funny dogs’ and had the nightmare that the devil locked him in a toilet and woke up screaming loudly.

Philadelphia on Film

2008-06-19T12:08:00.004+01:00

I have always avoided this film, I don’t know why; I think part is that I have a love hate relationship with Tom Hanks. Sometimes I think that he is brilliant, others dire. Also as I actually just thought that the film would be dull and miserable. It is neither; well it’s very moving but not miserable, the acting is fantastic.

Tom Hanks is brilliant as Andrew Beckett a hardworking and promising lawyer who contracts AIDS and suddenly is fired over a ‘misplaced’ document, though the underlying reason is his health and sexuality, so he decides to fight. There is a rawness and mixture of despair and anger that I don’t think I have seen before even in his best performances. (He also looks quite good as a rugged skinhead early on, wrong but true.) I think when he gets denied by the final lawyer to be represented the silent face shot of him is heartbreaking.

The lawyer who turns him down and who used to work opposite on cases against Joe Miller is played by Denzel Washington, another actor that I have never been really keen on, again hit and miss. Another superb piece of acting, a homophobic and AIDS fearing lawyer defending the very person who sums up the things he dislikes. He does this incredibly convincingly and again it’s the scenes with no words that he excels at in this film.

Antonio Banderas though not in it very much was great as the concerned and despairing lover of Andrew. He kept reminding me of Mr S, must be the accent sort of. Mary Steenburgen is also excellent as the shrewd lethal opposing council when she interogates Beckett it is a heart stopping and heart breaking moment, and the Board of Lawyers who fire Beckett are superbly vile, a fantastic cast.

I have to say I was unsure on the opera scene at first but it moved me to tears, I was a pure cynic at the start thinking they were literally going for the violins.

Naturally having fallen in love with the City of Brotherly love for me Philadelphia was also a star of the show. In fact the opening credits which pan across the whole of its skyline and streets brought a small lump to my throat for different reasons than the rest of the film, which ‘moved me’ (I don’t want people thinking I am a big cry baby now do I?) greatly several times.

If you haven’t seen this film you must see it, if you have seen it you should watch it again.

Bloody Landlords, Bloody Broadband, Bloody Bunged Up, Bloody, Bloody, Bloody

2008-06-18T13:55:00.000+01:00

Can you tell I have been a bit grumpy this week? I am royally unimpressed with my landlords who sent me a delightful note in the post saying I have been aware that they have been paying my gas and now could I please send them a grand. Erm, sorry? I was absolutely furious. I have always believed I was on a combination bill as I don’t have a meter in my flat. It now turns out that we actually don’t have a meter in the building, it may be in the shop next door? What the heck? Can I also state I have now been living here 18 months and I think they could have sent me something sooner if this was the case? I have since had a very fraught conversation with my agents who still haven’t given me a new fridge after a month of it not working; maybe I should send the astronomical food bills for same day meals to them? I ended up marching to the CAB office for advice, just as I was about to see one of them the agents phoned apologising. Mr S and I just want our new HOUSE now, yes house! How exciting!

Then we had a power cut on Tuesday night, which involved Mr S getting really freaked out (seriously this man was scared) and myself stubbing my toe. We did get to use some of our lovely new wedding presents (no, we didn’t make a big fire with them all) candles, on is monstrous and fabulous, we also got to have a chat with the lovely neighbours upstairs who have a very cute baby. Is it wrong I usually avoid my neighbours at all costs?

Today my wireless started playing up quite badly, just switching on and off as it felt the need and then not finding my BT hub. After a very long call to India, sorry to BT I was told I would need to buy a network cable so they could get into my laptop and hob and sort it all out. It cost bloody £20 to get a bloody cable I only need once. I begrudgingly paid it and then spent a further hour and a half on the phone to India; I mean BT before it was sorted. I have to say the new member of staff I spoke to was lovely. The problem, the power cut had reset everything as they were plugged in at the time, lets hope that doesn’t happen again, at least I now have the lead if it does.

AS for being bunged up, I keep getting these odd colds and combine that with bloody hay fever I am streaming sore eyed mess. I think Mr S and I just keep passing a mild summer cold between us, is it me or is hay fever worse this year?

So that plus deadline and still not sleeping I haven’t been the biggest fun, and the fact I am too ill to go to the B Boy Painting Party tonight is too much. At least I still have James Bond to keep me going! God woe is me, I hope this pants phase cuts itself out soon, and I want to be writing upbeat fabulous blogs, I guess life isn’t always like that! Oh some good news I am now on S in my alphabetical mp3 player cleansing!

Shameful Self Loving...

2008-06-16T01:38:00.000+01:00

Yes its very rare that I do this but the latest edition of FS Magazine is out now and I am one of the contributors. This is the cover in case you all want to run out and get my first edition...

Or you can simply download the blinker from here http://www.gmfa.org.uk/aboutgmfa/our-work/fs-magazine by clicking on said picture. Then feel free to email the editor and tell him how fabulous this issue was just cos of me... I am joking! It's made by GMFA and they are an exceptionally worthy cause so please grab a copy and have a flick, be warned there is sex in there hem, hem!

Short and sweet... am on deadline!

Porn Stars, the Marquis De Sade, Naked Cyclists and the Hustlaball

2008-06-15T20:56:00.001+01:00

I don’t think you could ask for more than that for a Saturday when you have been feeling just a little bit miserable. Yes yesterday I really had all of these in my life and frankly I felt a bit of a lucky biatch!

First up was a photo call for Lukas Ridgeston, who is one of the Bel Ami boys or in layman’s terms he is a Porn Star, at Prowler where he was signing copies of his latest DVD (I was shocked that a porn DVD can be £62… I have no longer got my finger on the pulse; I used to work for Prowler) in the Blue Room. I was joined by Muffintop and Mr Muffintop who is now doing the London photo’s for Bent. Now for a straight guy in a porn store he took it like a man, ha, pun intended. Whilst he was flashing (his camera) away they very kindly put some porn on the big screen in there. Well Muffintop kept looking at it and jumping with shock, and then peering at it through fingers. Mr Muffintop was fine, he watch a bit and then came out with the classic line ‘I think I own those pants, yeah I do they are Ginch Gonch’. Mr Muffintop is a legend. Here is Muffintop with the porn star…

Oh no, this is…

Thanks to Mr Muffintop for the photos. Afterwards we went and had a celebratory lunch of Dim Sum (shock horror) together before Mr Muffintop had to go and sell a white van to a white van man. It all sounded very butch and straight. Myself and Muffintop decided to have a mooch in Waterstones. It lasted over 2 hours. It was simply divine. I bought nothing like a good boy; Muffintop must have been inspired by Lukas as she grabbed a gorgeous copy of the Marquis De Sade’s ‘Philosophy in the Boudoir’. We decided to head fro a nice coffee, we like people watching and deciding what their stories are or what they should have worn instead. On the way we were surrounded by a mass of naked cyclists, literally. We were in the middle of the road crossing when every way we looked we were suddenly naked people, naked bums, naked everything. I later found out it was ‘World Naked Bike Ride’ Muffintop and I are debating doing it next year, we thought it was a fabulous way to address Climate Change.

Tonight was a big night in Vauxhall, and my very first ever, for the Hustlaball a night of debauchary. I was there to meet Chi Chi La Rue which ended up being a quick ‘hello’ as she was spinning the decks. Her music was fabulous. While waiting for Mr S I bumped into the lovely D who I hadn’t seen for a while and certainly not in bondage gear, there were some sights. I have never seen someone as shocked as Mr S later on; we went into the ‘Hard On’ room where some cowboys were on stage letting anyone ‘facilitate’ their needs. Mr S just couldn’t cope; it was like Muffintop in the Blue Room all over again. He almost passed out at the 'live shows' they put on. We finally left at around 5am when I was suddenly aware the stitches in my leg were leaking and I shouldnt really be out. It’s all glamour isn’t it?

That Shula, She's An Open Book

2008-06-13T13:31:00.001+01:00

Being ill and bed ridden gives you a little too much time on your hands, and rather than dwell on the misery of how sore my leg has been or how de-motivating Zorro is to read, I decided I would tell you of my new discovered love of Radio 4. Yes this blog is filled with it all, the thrills and spills of a mid twenties life, newspaper debates, shopping in Ikea and now Radio 4. There will be a lot of nudity coming in the blog over the weekend, I promise.

So back to Radio 4, well on a whim a Sunday ago Mr S was out shopping and I wanted to do some cleaning (a very rare event) I didn’t want to half watch a DVD or one of the music channels and I didn’t want to clean to Kylie which is always what spurns me on through the oven grime. So after always hearing how wonderful it is, from my Gran and my mother – it worries me how similar we are becoming and I swore I never would, I decided to give the Archers a go, plus Tamsin Grieg is on it though not at the moment which is a real shame. Thanks to BBC iPlayer I managed to get the omnibus from the week before, so I had over two hours of Archer’s joy in a row. Well now I am hooked.

It has to be said not a ridiculous amount happens in Ambridge in each episode but then it is only 15 minutes which I can actually say is perfect timing for a sudden ‘oh no’ moment. Well I am now ridiculously involved, I don’t care that Matt Crawford was adopted (neither does he – I am hoping some sick twist will mean he’s sleeping with his sister but that’s more of a storyline for other soaps) it doesn’t mean you can throw people out of their lovely barn to make lots of money. I also have to say that my favourite character is Shula; I don’t like her at all she is one of those royally annoying interfering do-good busy bodies. I have never known such an interfering and currently rumoured to be racist (she isn’t, well she’s a bit of a bigot in other ways) church warden but what a fabulous character. Oh and what’s kicking off with the funeral in Ireland? It’s fabulous. Highest debate of the village this week… should they have sausage rolls at Ruth’s 40th?

Now deciding to catch up on that opened a right minefield of other fabulous things I have missed on Radio 4. Book at Bedtime or A Good Read anyone, Woman’s Hour? Open Book with Mariella Frostrup who has one of the jobs I am most envious of (The Book Show on Sky and now this) plus she is friends with George ‘Delicious’ Clooney. Susan Hill was on last weeks so that was interesting. You’ll have to see my new book blog for more on her and these once it’s sorted, days now I promise. So thanks to Radio 4 what could have been a few days in painful hell has been in middle twenties (early middle age) heaven. So I thought I should blog about it unashamedly. That will be all.

Oh I shoudl have written about the fact its Friday the 13th, but I forgot until just now! Oh dear!

I'm An Accident Waiting To Happen

2008-06-11T20:48:00.001+01:00

Police, Doctors & Nurses I’ve had them all today…

I feel like I have met half of the services in Tooting today bar firemen (one can dream) who I hardly ever see around here actually, maybe I should start a rampant fire on the roof terrace or become a pyromaniac? We had a rude awakening this morning with the police once again raiding our flats, only not for the same man. You watch today carries on being like The Bill… yes, melodrama and bad acting!

It was on waking up and getting out of bed so quickly that a pain shot through my leg, I forgot about for a while as I was having a small questioning, until I felt the trickle. No I had not wet myself, though it did cross my mind.

I have had what I have been trying to convince myself as simply a spot for the last few weeks even though its been the size of a two pence piece. It is now clear it isn’t a spot of any kind as you could see inside my leg after some sort of explosion inside. Nice image that isn’t it? Mr S wasn’t taking my ‘oh its fine’ bulls**t either, he was actually very forceful. You see as some of you will know I have had a bad few years with ‘lumps and bumps’ and ‘cancer scares’ so though I am always on ultra watch with lumps I do go into some kind of denial. Like in this instance for example.

So after discussing the matter with NHS direct ( I refused to go straight to hospital through slight fear and also not wanting to waste anyone’s time) I was ushered to St Georges Walk In Centre before Mr S then dashed off to work, not so much the knight in shining armour he though he was in my books frankly. I then waited an hour (they are doing building works and have restricted hours at the mo – typical) before being sent to A&E where a lovely young man told me that I should really be stitched up, but as it was open they would send me to another ward to have a biopsy done, it ended up being removed – not my leg the ‘mass’.

There was one fabulous scene in the Walk In Centre that made me smile. A woman barged in shouting ‘I have broken my fingers’, the nurses simply said, ‘we aren’t seeing anyone I am afraid for an hour due to the works on the building and we don’t have X-Rays here, please go to A&E’.
‘What and have to wait half my life’ she slammed her fingers on the counter ‘I am a very busy woman.’
‘The wait in A&E is currently 45 minutes, which fingers have you broken?’
‘These’ the woman wiggles ‘its awful’.
‘I’m sorry madam but I don’t think those fingers are broken’ the nurse looks a little tired of the whole scene.
‘Did I say fingers? I meant I have broken my femur.’ With that she swooped out.

So what’s the state of play now? Hopefully they think it’s just a cyst that simply was ‘bursting’ to get out, time will tell and I am a little worried. More worrying was however the matter of getting home. I ended up getting a taxi the massive two streets away. I have since grabbed my book, a bottle of water, the remotes and my laptop as I now have to endure (oh like it will be a hardship) two or three days of bed rest. I only hope I am up and running for this weekends Hustlaball.

Before I go and watch endless BB (get that evil Alexandra out NOW) and The Apprentice Final (come on Claire) I do want to say something.

I want this blog to be honest upfront and real, without being preachy or any of that bollocks, apart from today. I have shown you what you should NEVER do when you have a lump, and after my history I should know better, however I am learning and hope have shown that when you get a lump or ‘funny spot/mole’ get it checked pronto! I cannot state this strongly enough, I hopefully am fine I should however have stopped pretending things were fine for the last week and gone there snappish.

Preach over.

Was I Once An Angel?

2008-06-09T10:22:00.001+01:00

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.

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?

A Day Wasted That Should Be Shelved

2008-06-06T23:39:00.004+01:00

Today has been one of those days that makes you cross, you know really cross. Today has felt like a day wasted, and I hate those which is odd as I am one major procrastinator. The plan was to get up at 9am (which is unfunny as I have major insomnia) to then head to Ikea and pick up the delicious ‘art deco, mono, floral patterned’ shelves we want, they sound vile believe me they are divine.

Well I cried when the alarm went off. I was a) in the middle of a nice dream b) have had no more than 12 hours sleep in the last week, thank the lord there is no photo to match this blog – I look like death c) the cat has taken to needing to be cuddled in the night, this is fine, apart from the fact that when you stop/rollover she feels the need to wake you up with claws on face to cuddle her again. So I postponed the alarm for another hour, only then Mr S wanted cuddles. Cuddles are good for you, unless that is you’re someone who has insomnia and loves their sleep.

So fair enough we were an hour behind, only then I noticed that the air was feeling slightly pollinated. Within minutes I was sneezing, one the 12th sneeze I think Mr S was a little puzzled and concerned, by the 16th I did something I didn’t think was possible… threw up from sneezing. I had sneezed so hard it must have jerked my stomach in an odd way or something. I also had a headache which throwing up always makes worse, I later noticed I hadnt had a coffee until over 4 hours after I woke up, thats trouble right there!

We got to Ikea two hours behind schedule after a horrid trip on the Tram where I had no tissues and had forgotten to take the antihistamine and left it on the kitchen side (I was very worried the cat would eat it) I felt vile and by this point my eyes hurt so much only the thought of the shelves with my books on them looking fabulous was the only thing going for me. We found them… too heavy, seriously far too heavy. Two of us couldn’t carry one box. So we thought oh naff it lets get it delivered. Forty bloody pounds!?! No.

So we thought it through and have decided to wait. We are moving to a bigger nicer flat in less than two months so we’ll get them delivered then, only we are gonna spent over £300 so we get it all delivered free, it’s a cheek! We then left with nothing other than a new cat kitchen mat for her majesty’s bowls. We wanted some of the gayest most brilliant bowls for her… out of stock. They have crown stamps on the inside in gold on a silver bowl, genius. She loved the basket we got her last week, she only uses it when I am not in bed but it’s a bonus.

I wanted to go home; Mr S wanted me to get the tram to the Home Office in Croydon, as he has a meeting there next week. After a 40 minute traipse we realised we had gone past it. We then looked at the shops, literally looked as I was now feeling so ill it was untrue. I slept on the tram back.

I wanted to do loads this evening, write a blog about last night as I met the man who designed and made the first rainbow flag and got to taste new lines of cocktails with him and how pissed Polly got on two of them – oh told you now. Also a blog on BB9 and how freakish I find them all – oh told you that too now. I wanted to finally use the scanner – actually finally plug it in, get the internet phone sorted, start a Mills & Boon to cheer Mitch up, sort out my new book blog which is ‘coming soon’ and so much more. Instead I have been bathing my eyes in cold water every ten minutes and blowing my nose to buggery. Wasted day, can’t bare it!

Electrical Goods & Bads

2008-06-04T22:23:00.001+01:00

I was mortified to notice that when I went to put some new music on my mp3 player that it pronounced it was full. Now anyone who knows me well will know that I like my music and that I download like a demon. So with 30GB full what was I going to have to do? Yes you guessed it I am now going through every single song in alphabetical order to delete the ones I don’t like or know that well. I have so far been amazed by how many songs and artists I don’t know at all, maybe some gremlins have been adding tracks in the night? I also noticed that I have three copies of a few songs (mainly Madonna and Kylie – I hold my hands up) either different mixes, edits or simply several ‘live’ versions, I cannot delete this.

It has taken my down memory lane though. ‘Am To Pm’ takes me to a very fabulous house party on a new years eve, ‘2 Become 1’ ended up on repeat reminding me of my closet years with Mum, ‘Call My Name’ took me back to my time in Colliers Wood, ‘Because I Love You’ took me back to the wedding, and ‘Bag It Up’ took me back to my G.A.Y every Saturday phase. So far I am only just on C which is understandable when you have over 10,000 songs to go for. I could of course just bought a new bigger mp3 player… but this situation will then be allowed to happen again, and I already listen to my Shuffle more than my other as I only put my current 200 favourites on there. I am enjoying really listening to some fabulous old tunes though, I mean when did I download Mel & Kim, the entire Sinitta back-catalogue and the new Gavin Rossdale album? How did I not know I wasn’t in love with Kim Wilde’s ‘Cambodia’, oh because I didn’t know it was there maybe? What a mixture.

Sadly two other electrical ‘bad’ items are in the kitchen. After a small revival the microwave actually sort of blew up finally, there was a definite finality about it as the door sort of shot off its hinges, thankfully we (Mr S, myself or the cat) weren’t in ther so no fatality’s, though my Tikka Masala was buggered. It did something similar the other day but being a cheapskate I thought I would try and use it for as long as possible, no chance now. The other is the fridge, some days the milk stays fine, some day’s it’s off in a few hours, I have phoned the landlord so am sure we’ll receive a new one by 2009 or something like that.

The electrical ‘good’ I am going to discuss is my latest treat for myself. After swearing I would never go back to John Lewis I have actually been back today, I am by no means converted, fear not. I had seen a little something that I didn’t want to buy as a wedding gift but new I wanted. So now sat proudly in the middle of the room still in its box is an All-In-One printer. (Hang on need to run and delete a rubbish Janet ballad… that’s better.) Yes, so now I won’t be asking Muffintop to do printing batches anymore. I also thought that someone who works from home should be equipped with something like this in 2008 frankly. I mostly now love the fact that it has a scanner. Yes, you have been warned, I feel a few photographic gems might be coming out of the woodwork that otherwise would be left sadly in a box. Isn’t technology fabulous?

Sugar's All Booked Up...

2008-06-03T23:20:00.001+01:00

I shall firstly apologise for being so lax on the blogging front, I am afraid I have been away. No not away on some sort of jolly holiday but steadfastly stuck in the Victorian era, deeply embedded, deeply engrossed. Puzzled? I have been reading the epic novel by Michel Faber ‘The Crimson Petal and the White’. Therefore I have been lost in a world of back streets, murder, madness, brothels, perfumeries (which I admit was a bit of a slog) and then ascended to the upper classes. Seriously this book is one I would recommend to everyone, and I don’t normally rave people to read a book on here! Thanks to the delightful heroine and (prostitute) of the novel Sugar, it’s been an exciting few days.

Though I admit I have closed off the world a little for this novel (the writing is small, its over 800 pages, takes some serious concentration and I get grouchy if a book takes me longer than a week unless its Wilkie Collins) that’s not all that I have done. Friday I definitely did something I just simply cannot remember what. Please note if I seem a little rambling and forgetful one thing I haven’t been doing is sleeping I have some serious insomnia.

Saturday I spent the morning in one of those ‘I have had nowhere near enough sleep’ morning which involved lots of cups of tea, Malteaser’s for breakfast, cuddles with Hoyden (the cat) and Sugar and her frankly filthy escapades. Sunday was the Walk for Life, the weather held off and though it wasn’t as sunny as last year it was a lovely day. Met Juliette and Matt there, we randomly lost them somewhere in the 10k of London streets, we did however catch up with Dannii Minogue who was extremely lovely! My people are going to talk to her people and something Bent might happen. Mr S surpassed himself with a fabulous opening line to Miss Minogue ‘Oh I thought you meant Kylie… I like her a lot… oh, erm and you on the X Factor, lots.’ God I love him!

Muffintop met us afterwards and we went for a lovely lunch of Dim Sum, I recommend Lido in China Town whole heartedly, for £20 for the three of us we ate like kings, or queens, and couldn’t finish everything. After that we tried to get tickets for Sex & The City, nowhere in central London could we do this, we ended up getting a later performance in Angel. Meaning we had to spend some time mooching around book stores in Angel, Mr S was so unimpressed. I was impressed I bought nothing. The book ban is working! Sex & The City is brilliant. Muffintop cried several times, Mr S laughed almost non stop and I did a bit of both. Its only going to be a sentence review as I don’t want to ruin it for everyone it been worth the wait though, unlike Indiana Jones & The Stupid Storyline.

Monday was a day of more reading and then the change over of Newspapers that I am testing out. I’ll give you more on that soon. It was also book group it’s always nice to get together with the other book geeks. We discussed ‘The Book of Dave’ at a lovely random Greek/Aussie/South African restaurant on James Street, really nice. The next book is ‘The God of Small Things’. I am a bit book talky at the moment, sorry, I am building a new blog all about books at the moment, nothing to do or be shown on myspace, and blame that. I’ll let you know when it’s sorted, it’s already getting hits and it’s not finished. I want it all sparkly before the unveiling.

Today combined domesticity and work. I met Mr S at Oxford Circus at 3 for the joys of John Bloody Lewis. I hate John Lewis, I think it’s a childhood thing; I was dragged round them endlessly by my mother and grandparents a little too often. Mr S also hates John Lewis you could imagine WWIII was coming, it didn’t. Despite the amount of emails and telling everyone how we didn’t want wedding presents, and if people must they must not get John Lewis anything guess what? Yes, people either a) didn’t get the emails/didn’t know/didn’t care/don’t know me and Mr S very well. Ha, ha, ha I am joking… look at me complete ungrateful c**t!

No seriously… we are grateful as despite the fact you cant get a kettle in there for less than £40 and a double duvet starts at £40 and the pretentious vile people there, we came away with two gorgeous sheepskin rugs (oh my god does that count as fur?!) and the complete Delia Smith collection, a good shopping trip. We have however vowed never to go there again. Why do people always rave about it and Waitrose, overpriced and outrageously so, I mean you can get four kettles in Sainsbury’s for the price of one in JL. Oh it vexed me, you all know I am a bargain boy; this was a treat however and shall be overlooked!

This evening I had a boozy media meeting with the new Magazine I am going to be working on. I have also in the subsequent tube journeys after finishing ‘The Crimson Petal and the White’ managed to read another amazing book ‘The Diving-Bell &The Butterfly’ I think we might all be a bit booked out by now lol. So I will say farewell before I do some research on Chaka Khan and get into bed with George Clooney/Michael Clayton!

P.S For the person who reads this who got the John Lewis vouchers, I love you dearly and the Kylie Collection towels have been our favourite present, and you so know it!

A Domestic in Domestic Heaven

2008-05-29T20:41:00.001+01:00

Oh the joys of Ikea. With a trolley in our hands and vouchers in our pockets myself and Mr S took on the showrooms of Ikea with the determination to spend money and buy absolutely loads. I am not normally someone who likes to mooch through shops unless they are book shops, the showrooms of Ikea are something quite different. I like to linger in every room they have created for as long as possible thinking is this me? Is this the future of my lifestyle and my home? I spent about 20 minutes in one set of rooms imagining they were my very own. I could see that Mr S was beginning to get very bored. Forty minutes of me aimlessly browsing around we went for food, it appeared that the mood Mr S was in was being caused by hunger. You cant beat Ikea food… ok you can, but the meatballs yummy!

Food done and it was down to some serious shopping, well that was the plan. The thing was nothing big leapt out at us. I mean in terms of some glasses, pointless utensils and a serious amount of flat packing in fabulous patterns (to be explained later) there was nothing. The sofa beds were boring and some were just stupidly priced, there were some shelves we liked but then we bought a TV table and so couldn’t carry them, we’ll be going back. So rather than spend the vouchers we got, I couldn’t say to people ‘thanks for the wedding gift, I got a whisk, cat basket and some dishtowels’. We are gonna wait for the sale. Sadly somewhere between lighting and cushions a world war erupted, over a ‘real need’ for a garlic press I has spotted in the trolley that we totally didn’t need, I lost. It then spilled into something else and we were having a domestic in the rug section. Fortunately my friend Holly’s track ‘I Don’t Care’ came on and we both started praising and texting her. So that was that dealt with.

Now Mr S has gone to work and I am doing some serious reorganising. I haven’t really unpacked or sorted a lot of stuff in the flat since I moved in back in December… 2006! So now I am having a break from being arm deep in old nasty tatty flat pack boxes which make the flat look like a disused warehouse and going for something floral, fabulous and more of a feature. Once I am done you can see the delightful effects… oh and when Mr S has made the tv table, I am good at seeing how everything should look and imagining the final results, I am hopeless at putting those results together.

On no that would be a showroom...

This is it in all its glory, yes the cat is real and so is the rubbish in the back ground!

Does The O.D Stand for Over Dose?

2008-05-28T19:04:00.000+01:00

The last few days have seen me bored silly, I pulled a random muscle (I wasn’t aware I had any) in my leg and have had to have a few days of painful lying down. Rather than spend hours creating a masterpiece of some sort I treated myself to a full day leg up with my laptop catching up with all the TV I’ve missed and some I didn’t even know I wanted to watch. Thank the heavens above for BBC iPlayer and 4od. So some of the joys that I watched…

Mum & Me (BBC iPlayer) – I normally love documentaries by Sue Bourne, in fact I made a big blog about how much I loved her Channel 4 documentary My Street. I have never ever wanted to slap someone so much in my life. Actually there is someone else coming up but for now lets concentrate on Sue and her brat child. The documentary was all about the relationship over 3 years of Sue, her daughter and her mother with Alzheimer’s. This is a subject that is very close to my heart as my Uncle Derek suffers from this and is in a home. Sue whined and moaned and bitched about the relationship with her mother in the past (we all have problems with parents, they are parents stop moaning) and how she ‘had’ to make the trek once a month to her home in Scotland from London. Here’s a simple solution move your mother to a home in London and then you can stop bitching about how much it costs and how ungrateful she is for her day trips out. I have seen people in my uncles home who hit, shout, throw their shit around and abuse, Sue Bourne’s mother was one of the happiest people with Alzheimer’s I have ever seen. She was generally jolly and only on the odd occasion like when Sue had been moaning about the fact she smelt of urine, they do they aren’t in control, and she said ‘its not nice when your told you’re a smelly old bitch’. Sue then tirades into ‘oh I never said that’ actually you did you vile woman. The worst bit for me was when she hit her mother. These people, its not hard science to comprehend, do not understand what they are saying and doing is wrong, they have gone back to being childlike and need looking after, and it takes and adult to do that. Not some stupid woman and her giggling little shit of a child. Sorry it made me so cross.

13 Children & Wanting More (4od) – OK now anyone who wants to give birth that many times in my mind is crazy. I know its everyone’s right to have as many children as they want, no issues there. What bothered me was a woman crying as she couldn’t get pregnant for a 14th time. I know several women who would kill to be pregnant once, so please when you have 13 don’t moan. Even worse was a man who quite obviously had something wrong with him as his wife was obviously seriously ill from so much child bearing and he kept saying (as she was in tearful agony) ‘its just god’s way’ and ‘I don’t wear condoms it’s not natural. No it’s not but then without them thousands more would die every year! Also he was on benefits, now that’s where I got angry. Have as many children as you want, but please don’t make me pay for them.

Gay To Z Series (4od) – I didn’t feel much about this one way or the other after fiver twenty minute episodes. There was a lovely lesbian in Brighton who I felt I wanted to be best friends with.

Reverend Death (4od) – Well I loved this show, only for how crazy the people were. It made me a little cross but nothing like the two above, possibly because it seemed so unreal. This was the story of a man whose name I cannot remember who basically is a self appointed martyr to suicide. Now as far as I could tell the guy was honey nut! After showing the tools of his trade he announced how many people whose suicide he had helped. Some people think suicide is wrong, I don’t agree with it, I do however think there are people who have illnesses and need help then that should be a life choice. People who want to kill themselves generally have some form of depression who need a psychologist (who takes them seriously and sorts them out) rather than a middle aged man, who comes round for a cuppa brings you a video on peoples ‘fabulous’ out of body death experiences. Later on as he ‘helped’ someone kill themselves over the phone and reach what looked very much like an orgasm, I wanted to hurl. When they announced he was gay, well I just thought ‘thanks very much another great gay public figure to boost any homophobes opinions out there’. You need to see this show to believe it.

Skins Series One (4od) – I have to admit I love this show, absolutely love it. After years of me refusing to give into it and the hype I am fully converted and am almost finished with series one and ready to start series 2. Favourite scene so far is start of episode 4 and the morning glory/Viagra lavatory and shower scene I laughed so much, all my muscles hurt. I love Cassie ‘yeah… wow’.

Well that covers today’s viewings so far… think going to put the laptop down and try and wean myself off the internet viewing, to start the whole of Sex & The City once again. Oh the life of a coach potato.

Please note: I don’t normally watch this much telly.

Daily News-Sance

2008-05-26T18:34:00.000+01:00

Sitting in bed with the husband (sorry the novelty will wear off) on a nice bank holiday with a lovely cup of tea something was missing. I picked up my tome of a bedside book but that wasn’t what I needed, I love the Victorian era but I wanted something more tangible, more current dare I say more real?

‘You need a newspaper Baby’ Mr S said. ‘I don’t read the bloody news’ I said astonished he didn’t know me better.

‘No, I know, you don’t. You never watch it either; you complain it’s too miserable. The only time you ever pick up a paper is if it’s got the books section in it.’ This could have been our first marital domestic only we were both smirking, him with being right and me with a semi sulk. The thing is he was right. I avoid the news like the plague.

Part of it is down to childhood, when I was little and there was a break between watching neighbours with Alice, Caz and Matt and the latest from on the street there seemed to be a giant cavern which only contained people in suits talking about awful things that happened with a slightly happier story at the end. These days even that last bit of happy news seems to have vanished. When I was getting ready for school watching The Big Breakfast I wasn’t fooled, they might have been wearing day-glow and mentioning the odd celebrity… but it was still news and generally signalled time to leave for school. Maybe they should think about doing a happy news show, dare I say the 7pm ‘Good News’ show?

Mr S had a valid point however I don’t generally know what’s going on in current affairs, I mean I didn’t even know Billie Piper was pregnant. No seriously, Mr S loves the news and left News 24 on the other day and I was disgustingly out of touch with what was going on. Wearing my ‘Vote Hilary’ t-shirt at Lovers and Losers people kept saying I don’t think so now… I had no idea what she’d been up to or if she had even lost.

So I had to agree with Mr S, maybe a paper is just what I needed but which one I should choose I am clueless. My family expect me to vote Labour because they do, they therefore would also expect me to read The Guardian and The Observer. I pick up The Guardian at the weekend as it has an excellent review section, the weekend is a different matter all together and I pick up all the papers for their book review inserts.

I will never forget the face on Bong last year when we went shopping for the papers and I bought The Daily Tory-graph. He was outraged, until he read it and then he admitted secretly he liked it. The problem with the broadsheets is just that, they are too broad! I don’t want to have something that crowds me in. Should I try something more compact? Maybe The Times? I used to work for News International and we used to get The Times for free and it wasn’t bad but I flicked. For a while I bought The Sin, sorry The Sun, everyday I liked the entertainment but think its time I grew up a bit.

I even then devised a list of both what I do and don’t want here is a condensed list. Firstly what do I want?
- The latest news in a non sided honest factual way.
- To find out things I never knew and can use at a dinner party or two.
- A newspaper that’s about people, and has a human feel
- Good news thrown in, not just tales of woe or how awful the world is.

I don’t want;
- To be patronised, I’m not stupid (I am no genius)
- Over long or pompous wording, come on I am a commoner, let’s keep it real.
- One sided discussion
- Bigoted, homophobic, or backward thinking pieces.

I think I am searching for the impossible so have decided that for the next few weeks I will try a full week of a different paper. I have chosen my first one on the fact I know a few people who have written for it, some people I respect read it and its title suggests it should be just my cup of tea. ‘The Independent’ it is then. Lets see how I get on, I’ll keep you updated. Oh and if anyone has any recommendations let me know.

My Husband & I

2008-05-25T23:06:00.000+01:00

We met the family and the best women for our first lunch as husband and husband today at Little Italy and the first question everyone asks, and a lot of guests were asking yesterday, is ‘does it feel any different?’ The answer… in some ways yes in some ways no.

I am certainly enjoying the newness of saying ‘my husband’ but to hear myself referred to as that is really odd. We weren’t sure if that was what we would call each other, for a while it was a joke of who should be the wife? If one of us did some thing particularly domestic (like when I was in joyous rapture over our new hot plate coffee maker in Curry’s) or when one of us is particularly nagging the other (Mr S to tidy our table which is a mess of brainstorming and papers as its also my desk) then instantly its ‘oh you’ll be wife’. We both hate the term ‘life partner’ it’s not a sodding business, it’s a marriage.

I love Mr S more and more every day so to say I love him more is a natural thing, there is something different there now. I look at him a bit differently, not in an odd way but in a nice way. Watching him sleeping last night I thought ‘wow, that’s my husband’. There is definitely a bond I have never felt with someone before now, it’s quite indescribable but that is enough of the mush.

It does feel a bit rubbish that the wedding is all done and gone. Then you realise that yes that amazing day has gone however you have a future filled with things and experiences to share. The first one was Lovers and Losers 1st Birthday Party at Trash Palace where the delicious DJ’s Dom Agius and Paul Burston put on a lovely bash which we could only manage the first couple of hours at as we were so thoroughly knackered. It was lovely to see them Mick, Paulo, Matt and Arun. We missed blinking Juliette though as she’s such a socialite she arrived late.

The second one we are doing you can all be a part of in a random sort of a way, its not often I get the begging bowl out, however I am about to. On Sunday we will be participating in the Walk for Life and we would love it if people would sponsor us. To sponsor me you can go to http://www.walkforlife.co.uk/public_individual_sponsorship.php?ID=2573 and/or to sponsor Mr S go to http://www.walkforlife.co.uk/public_individual_sponsorship.php?ID=2576 if you wanted to sponsor both of us that would be great. We are doing it for GMFA which is a fabulous charity that does great things for sexual health and HIV/Aids. So please, please, please sponsor us. From my husband and I.

The Wedding That Whizzed By

2008-05-25T22:58:00.000+01:00

After a final day or last minute packing, it was my final night of freedom (silly expression) with my Best Woman Muffintop. This entailed a visit to the cinema to see Indiana Jones and the Stupidly Ridiculous Plot That Will Ruin The Whole Series, a few cocktails in The Green in Angel and some pear cider and The Princess Bride. It was then the wedding day.

Was I woken up yesterday with birds singing and bright skies? Yes, only mingled with an enormous migraine which made me sick. I think it was a mixture of nerves, stress, tension and not enough water with my pear cider me thinks. From the madness of getting ready and the Number 30 bus to the venue it all is a crazy blur until I got home at 4am. Not a drunken one, I was merry, when they say your wedding day whizzes by they are spot on.

It was a very happy, very merry and very wonderful day. We had a couple of technical hitches at the ceremony (which involved me getting my iPod shuffle out in front of the whole congregation to find the track to enter and exit) and a few tears. The dinner was gorgeous and the speeches were moving and hilarious, bar mine which was rushed, how can you forget to write your own speech?

Here is a picture of Mr B (now Mr S) and myself with the bridesmaid and best man (one best man didn’t even show up) for you.

Here's one of the happy couple and Mr B's new in-laws...

...And here is one of the grooms at The Masked Ball.
And here is one of the grooms possibly a little bit drunk... maybe?

Was it the happiest day of my life? Most definitely.

The Longest Fastest Week

2008-05-23T14:33:00.001+01:00

It sounds stupid to say that a week can drag and yet seem to whiz by, this one has and therefore I can say it! Tomorrow of course is the big day. After endless weeks of preparation and debating what we wanted and how it’s now almost all ready, and it’s a little daunting but very exciting.

This week there have been days of ups like Monday where I spent a wonderful lunchtime with Mr Agius in The Grenadier in Belgravia, Madonna goes there don’t you know, and then had a lovely drunken dinner with Mr B and The Ex.

Tuesday in a foul mood after the delightful row and emails from Stephen (Dad just isn’t a title I am going to be using again. Oh update on that, my grandparents sent me a lovely letter and card so more proof Stephen talks absolute tripe.

Wednesday was a manic rush to get the perfect shirts and ties. In Debenhams Groomzilla threatened to raise his ugly head after being told ‘purple is so not this seasons fashionable colour’ he controlled himself and only silently spoke the words ‘coming from you that’s ironic’ under his breath… he is a one that alter ego. Speaking of alter egos I then decided to treat myself to ‘Iron Man’ is it wrong to say that Robert Downey Jr is a damn fine example of a man? Well he is, and as far as super hero movies go Iron Man was a good effort. 4/5

Yesterday I was glum and misery guts to the hilt. The Ex came round for a coffee and tried to cheer me up and succeeded. I then had an evening of black and white heaven with Bette Davis, just what you need when you’re feeling a bit down trodden and over stretched. ‘Whatever Happens To Baby Jane’ is one of my all time favourite movies though now I fear it may have to step aside for ‘Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte’ which is a thing of genius!

Today I am feeling much better. Have started the mammoth Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber and am already 100% sure I am going to love it, a whole 800+ pages of joy to come.

People have been asking ‘how do you feel with it being tomorrow?’ It’s a strange one to answer, part of me is really looking forward to the whole thing, I kind of want the ceremony over so that I can natter to all the guests and catch up with people I haven’t seen in ages. Part of me is numb and can’t quite believe its happening. Part of me is worried as one particular guest is renowned for saying the complete wrong thing to people and I am nervous something might kick off, the best women have been notified ha, ha. One massive part of me sees that after tomorrow this is a new phase in my life. I plan on much less drama and my have a spiritual kind of ‘clear out’.

You definitely learn who your friends are in a process like this. Some people you would least expect phone you all the time and check how it’s going, others of your closest don’t seem to give a monkeys and a fair few make the day so much about themselves you want to scream ‘this is the only day I can legitimately say is all about me’. I think my most common quote this week has been ‘I could kill…’ and if I had followed it through there may have been quite a massacre in London Town. So here’s to new beginnings and a new phase starting tomorrow. Can’t wait!

The Fathers Speech?

2008-05-19T21:58:00.002+01:00

I dont normally air my dirty laundry out in public, but just this once as it links with a previous blog 'and when did you last see your father'. Here is what my Dad (though he didnt sign off as such) emailed me today about his attendance to the wedding, and our relatioship! I guess this would be his fathers speech?

Simon,

The reason I (we) cannot assume anything is that virtually everything you tell me (us) changes – we have absolutely no way of planning anything around you with any degree of certainty. You have let us (me and G&G) down a lot in the past – with regards to visits that never happen.

I just cannot function in your hap hazard fashion.

On the issue of contact and effort made – yes you have phoned me but certainly not a lot – but I have travelled every time to see you. You have made no effort to see G&G in all your visits to Matlock – why? You have made no effort to come to Leicester and yet you can go anywhere else –why is that? You have made no effort to let Anna Chris and Emma meet your partner – let’s just do it on the day shall we?

We are very different people - with very different ways of doing things with very different values.

Perhaps we will meet again – sometime.

I hope everything goes well on Saturday and in the future.

I am speechless to be honest! The reply...

Well at least I know how you now feel.

I think its a shame that you have had to put it across in such a manner.

My last email was to point out the comunication at the moment, I wasnt aware it was going to betaken in such a way especially as I tried to end it on a positive note saying how I wanted to see you more. I am saddened by your response and your sudden telling me of all my failings, could you not have told me this on the phone last time we spoke as it seems to have been brewing for a while.

I invited you in March which I think is a lot of notice considering this has been a quick wedding and I phoned you the day it was booked. I also invoted you Anna Chris and Emma because I wanted you to come. I also told you how I wanted G & G to come, you said you werent sure it would be their cup of tea. If you felt I was inconsistant and the like why didnt you call me to check?

I am trying to think of times I have let you down by not seeing you and can only think of when I came to Leicester for my previous job and ended up having to come home after my collapse? Could you tell me of specific times as I would be interested to know those as then I could apologise.

Why have I not seen G & G when I have last been up, lets see... maybe its because it was when Bong (David) was dying last year and the funeral and all that follwed? That was THE hardest time, Bong brought me up and to extent I lost much more than a grandfather, so I am sorry I didnt visit and have said this in a letter to G & G I would have loved to seen them but the timing was wrong! I have been up twice since once to spend time with a grieving woman and another for a Carolines 40th which originally I couldnt go to either as I was meant to be travelling for work and they were both short last minute visits because of the job I do.

On the subject of phoning I have looked back at bills and I phone you at least every two months to your absolutely NONE! So I think its unfair to then say I never come and visit, if you had to phone someone all the time and they never phone back what would you think they felt let alone feel like you could visit.

I havent met Anna still, at first it was clear she wasnt keen from what you told me so I think that is unfair. I would like to meet her, she was wonderful when I had my back done with all the advice she gave me. I would loved to ahve met her, you have a busy schedule and so have I - I think this is a two way street. As to Alex not meeting them, hes only met my mother 4 times maybe 5.

You have made no effort to come to Leicester and yet you can go anywhere else –why is that? I dont understand this, where is everywhere else? I have not been invited the last few times I have phoned and also I know you have been thinking of moving and had assummed it wasnt the right time. I'm not a mind reader.

We are very different people - with very different ways of doing things with very different values. Meaning? So I dont have values? If that is what you think I believe giving up everything in London to be with a dying man for 2 months is values! Or do you mean different like you see yourself and Paul and that you dislkie me and dont want to see me again?

I did not intend this last email to start such a conversation, I actually said in my first email How is all with you? I want to make more of an effort to see you from now as I have been pants. How does that sound? Now I get an email like this. I wanted to make things better.

Simon

Only A Week To Go

2008-05-17T21:23:00.000+01:00

Sitting here now I cannot believe that in one week I will be a happily married man. Well I hope happily, if I am not happy in the first five hours might be an issue. Almost everything seems to be done and the budget is over but what the hell I don’t intend having Elizabeth Taylor’s marital record, her money wouldn’t be bad. The thought of having a ‘husband’ does seem quite surreal, I guess the planning and organising of everything has taken my mind off the significance of the whole event at the moment it just seems like I am planning a fabulous day for friends and family.

I have been writing my speech today and looking back over the time since Mr B and I first met (in GAY of all places) and it’s been a nightmare, what are you meant to say to describe someone? It is not going to mushy (well not too often) I’m hoping it will be a success, he is still undecided on his or if he is even doing one.

We’ve bought our ‘his and his’ masks. I have never known such a nightmare, as you learn in a wedding it’s the little things that cause the most grief. I was firstly in the mask shop two hours prior with Dwarf choosing 6 different peoples masks from the small (I am being sarcastic) selection of 200 masks available. It involved several very stressed tense phone calls to both best women one of whom almost threw up from a hangover during the call – that’s dedication. Two hours on and Mr B and I were at loggerheads, he wanted a clown mask, I wanted something more ‘Showgirl’ you will have to wait for the photos to see which one of us won the battle, it took some persuading from both parties.

So am I going to miss being a single man? Yes and no. I mean I haven’t technically been single for quite a while now, and we don’t do ‘open’. Yeah there are those first dates where the butterflies are all over the place and all the firsts. However there will be many firsts to come I hope, first home, first married row, first anniversary and one first of which we are both keen on is first child, that is a blog for many moons in time. However this morning was an example of why married life will be more intimate than those first few lustful bedroom moments when you meet someone. It was the two of us lying in bed reading our books, there is something distinctly intimate in that, I can’t quite describe it!

Will I miss being out on the gay scene with my mates talking about sex, men and having a frivolous night? Hell no, those nights aren’t going to stop, the only difference is I will have a slightly bejewelled and fabulous ring on my finger. I have just realised I am not having a stag do; it’s too late in the day now I guess. Maybe I will have a ‘fuck I’m married’ party instead in fact that sounds quite fabulous.

Oh and one question a few people have asked is will I become Simon B? No, Mr be as of next Saturday will be known as Mr S, yes he loves my family and my surname so he is changing to mine. Simon Brustolon doesn’t have the same ring as Simon Savidge I don’t find.

Thats Why They Call Them Best Women

2008-05-15T21:35:00.001+01:00

I had one of the funniest random three ways tonight. I do not mean in a sexual way though if laughter was a form of orgasm I was on multiple. I mean a phone call. It was with ‘the best women’ having not seen Muffintop of Mitch since the last trying of the dresses experience several weeks ago we needed a catch up. When I say catch up I mean between the three of us. Separately I cannot fault them for there enthusiasm, dedication, never ending ‘can we help’ and putting up with me being a stressed harridan. Mitch is normally on the phone three times a week occasionally, in severe times of stress, daily. Muffintop has been emailing on her two week holiday in the Maldives with constant support. This is indeed why they are called best women.

Muffintop was round for dinner and from seeing each other everyday at work until December and a few times each week since, not seeing each other for two weeks was a bit odd. We both had been on fabulous trips, but we’d still missed each other. We ended up a little tipsy on Bucks Fizz, which believe me can happen, and then had Mitch on speaker phone for wedding talk. In the end it ended up being a one hour conversation that was about anything but. From Mitch’s mum’s love of ‘knob ends’ on bread, to perverts, to the shit office we all worked at once. It was heaven and not a word of confetti, outfits or the like in site. That was just what I needed, and that’s what best women are for, thank you kindly ladies!

Literally A Fabulous Day

2008-05-13T14:22:00.000+01:00

Sat with Mr David Llewellyn having a chinwag (which was also an interview, I don’t do formal really) over a coffee sat in the sun on Old Compton Street we both felt that ‘this was the life’ that a) we deserved and b) people probably think that authors and journalists have. You know, you don’t do much; you have masses of money coming in and so you can swan about doing the odd casual interview, maybe throw in some reading and sunbathing as David had been before, or just catch some rays by a pool on a roof as I did in the afternoon and then attend the odd party. If only, dream on. Yes we were both having one of those days; it’s not a reality sadly.

Today has been a very literary day though and I do love one of those. I was up to do some more of my Bent deadline quite early, which is not very like me I finally believe the jetlag is wearing off. I then went to meet David for an interview (I am determined to get more literature into Bent, my editor may have scrapped my Stella Duffy article previously, however I am not giving in again) on my way there I tried to get a copy of his latest novel ‘Everything is Sinister’ plug, plug. Well I wasn’t allowed one, not until Polari, which I was attending anyways so it was fine. I couldn’t believe a book shop wouldn’t sell me a book, Mr B would have laughed at my reaction of dumb founded despair… I did buy it later!

Coffee (and interview) with David was a delight. A really decent guy, genuine and very funny, made my job a bloody doddle. Very interesting discussions on books and torchwood were had by all; well by me anyways I may have bored him to death. Look out for his feature in next months Bent. As mentioned above I then proceeded to head for the pool and a serious bout of sunbathing. Am currently reading Will Self’s ‘The Book of Dave’ (why did I think Will Self was gay?) and it’s a bit of a good ‘en but a blinking difficult ‘en too! So tried to look very well read in my Speedo’s and shades.

Met Spanners at Westminster to go to the worst album launch ever, and it was for a serious artist too, I have now truly come to the decision that if a launch isn’t good in the first 30mins it’s not going to get much better. With this in mind we left for Polari, which was where I wanted to be anyways. The delightful Paul and Dom were there and made Spanners feel very welcome. David’s reading was extremely witty and a fab night was had by all… it always is at Polari.

Oh and I finally got to meet Clayton and put a face to the name. David and I had popped into Dirty White Boy earlier to say hello and left a note with Jorge as he was out! He arrived after David had done his reading and was as lovely in real life as you read him online or in the London Paper. So all in all a very literary day and altogether a fabulous one.

Now off to bed with Dave and the Mokney, who would have thought you had to learn a new language to read a book?

The Attack of Groomzilla (Possibly Part One of Many)

2008-05-12T22:45:00.000+01:00

You know how The Incredible Hulk goes from being an ordinary guy and then suddenly in rage turns into the green giant, normally to save the earth I grant you, I fear I know how he feels. I used to watch that show ‘Bridezilla’s’ and laugh at how crazy people get about weddings… this fat lad aint laughing (or singing) anymore.

In the past 48 hours I have had half of Warehouse UK quaking in my path for a start. I then had a blazing go at three people I hold very dear, this is not like me. I also madly babbled on the phone to my mother for 30 minutes again not so much like me. Yes I have become Groomzilla.

The Warehouse thing was over the Best Women’s dresses. It took us two full days of searching to finally find the right outfits that a) Mr B and I liked and b) they liked and c) were the right colour for the theme – since when did I care about themes? So after all this I had forgotten my cards and had to come back, by which time all 8 of the stores I trekked around yesterday, with Mr B scurrying to keep up, had sold out of mainly the dresses and then the ones in the sizes I needed. The internet fortunately had one for Mitch, but Muffintops… nowhere! Now a lot of people think, and I mainly agree, that Muffintop can suit anything, she is after all model like. ‘Occasion’ dresses stumped us, until the perfect dress appeared. So I phoned Warehouse today in one of my Groomzilla moods and had ‘Stacey’ shaking at my tone. I do feel bad and I do apologise, it wasn’t me it was Simon Groomzilla. The dress has been found and Warehouse are now fabulous in my eyes. And no I didn’t use the term ‘do you know I am a journalist?’ Groomzilla did and he should hang his head in shame. I have never done that before, well once.

We then spent a few hours by the pool, and I particularly in the pool under the orders of Mr B to ‘cool off’. After which we hit Soho for some drinks with our two friends who got married last weekend. On the way I wanted to pop in and see Clayton at Dirty White Boy only for some reason something came up and by the post box across the street I let rip at Mr B, I think he had laughed at something weddingy which you must NEVER EVER do in front of a potential Groomzilla. We wanted to get some nice ‘wedding night’ underwear however after several conversations with people that apparently is a myth as your too pissed, that’s another story I am sure.

We tried the food for the wedding a starter of which I sent back for being ‘bland’, this from a man who if given the worst food from the worst restaurant would not complain just silently sulk, and this was in one of my favourite restaurants. We have now decided the final meal options and are happy! Groomzilla disappeared only to rear his ugly head about 30 minutes later with two of his delightful friends the ‘recently married’.

I have mentioned before offering help and telling people what to do are two very different things. These drinks became a ‘this is what we did and therefore what you should do’. I ignored the ring advice, they are sorted and fabulous, I ignored the debate on champagne. I ignored the ‘we cant believe your not inviting some people to the meal’. However when the subject of cake came up, despite the tapping of Mr B’s leg on mine, I couldn’t help it. We don’t want a cake. ‘You don’t want a cake, you have to have cake, if you don’t buy a cake we will get one for you’. I lost it I said something a long the lines of ‘I know you two just got married and its really nice that your sharing, well telling us what we should do rather than sharing your advice but will you just back the fuck off, I don’t want a cake, people are having puddings I don’t need a cake and I certainly don’t want people buying me one I am likely to hate.’ I then went very silent funnily and soon we had left and Mr B had taken me to the Haagen Dazs Restaurant for a seriously large ice cream. Wedding talk was banned for the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow, praise be, I am having a day filled with work as I haven’t done any since I came back from Philly. I am meeting Mr David Llewellyn to interview him about him, his book etc. Then have a showcase in the early evening with cocktails and canapés, followed by the fabulous Polari, and not a word of wedding insight… bliss!

And When Did You Last See Your Father?

2008-05-10T16:25:00.001+01:00

I watched this movie last night and several parts of the film have resonated in me so much that I cannot stop thinking about them and feel I have to get these thoughts out. The film was out last year and tells the story of a relationship between father (Jim Broadbent) and son (Colin Farrell) from the past to know and in the particular light of their fraught relationship from the son’s childhood. This is all brought to ahead when the father is diagnosed with cancer and becomes terminally ill. That is all I shall say on the movie, it’s a very well acted and written piece and I would heartily recommend it to anyone, you might need some tissues.

The film its self raised many questions and thoughts with me. How is the relationship with my father? How does it feel to have had more than one father? How am I coping since Bong died, the cancer part of the film was a little too raw in parts, how am I getting on? What would my ideal relationship with my father be? See a veritable can of worms was opened up in my head and not much sleep was gained last night. This could be a long blog, let’s start at the beginning.

I think if I look back I have had five father figures in my life. Bong (my granddad), Paul (my first step dad), Tim (my step dad now), my Dad and also my Mum. My mother had me when she was just 16. My father wasn’t about for long and so she brought me up as a single mother, taking me to University with her, and also being the role of both parents. I didn’t find out until quite recently that my mothers parents Gran and Bong had offered to bring me up as theirs. My mum refused as she wanted me to know my true mother and also because she had decided to have me and that was that. I am glad of this the whole thing could have been far too Eastenders to be true and I had enough Eastender like storylines in my childhood thank you very much. I am proud of my mother for this and also the fact she single handily raised me whilst doing a degree.

My Grandparents however looked after me for long periods at Easter, the summer holidays and Christmas letting my mother have a social life and time to revise. They took me on long holidays in the car to France and other European destinations and to a degree I felt like I had a second set of parents the idea of a father or what one was didn’t occur to me in my early years. That was until my mother met Paul. Sadly (as I would love to be able to) I cannot remember the first time I met Paul, all I do remember from those early years was that he made me laugh and we had lots of fun.

Eventually we left Newcastle and Paul and Mum and I all lived together, no teething problems all was good after a few years Paul proposed to Mum in Thailand and I was jubilant at the news. Then the possibility of adoption came up and I was more than happy to take Paul as my dad. I know this all sounds very rosy and to a degree it was, yes me and Paul had some mammoth rows as sometimes I felt he would over step the mark of ‘friend’ to ‘father’ and in some ways this meant ‘foe’. On the whole though it was a very happy time and bar one big row we had where we weren’t talking just before the wedding all was fine. Sadly this didn’t last as in 1992, six months after they married, on the 5th of December after a day of Christmas shopping my mother and I came home and I found Paul hanging from the attic. He had a brain tumour and in the previous months his behaviour had been erratic, we had fought more this was all too do with the tumour having burst on a holiday in Ibiza, none of us knew that until after he died.

Suddenly it was just me and my mother again. I became man of the house only my mum being deep in grief (though she was never sorry for herself which was highly commendable) couldn’t do the dual parent role. Bong stepped in and I went off the rails. I skipped school, I did a lot of weed (all aged around 11-13) I became violent, aggressive, and mean sickly mean. Bong tried to help and being a teenager and quite a screwed up one at the time I rebelled further and took against any authority figure that happened to be in my way. I think this was when Bong and I had a very fraught relationship and one now I regret.

Things calmed down and Mum eventually met Tim. He was a science teacher at my school where mum also taught. At first I liked him, we got on well and I liked his daughters. When he became my science teacher when I was in year 11 and my mum also became pregnant things went weird. We moved in, I didn’t want to. I started misbehaving more again at school and at home and declared war. I then had to move schools as we’d moved away from the area and I guess I pushed all the blame on Tim, I saw him as spawn of Satan, and naturally I also blamed my mother. Miriam was born and for a while that took the pressure off, I felt I had an ally even if a 2 month old one. Then it became too much and I left. I ran away from home. I was gone.

Whilst all this madness was going on, not only was I coming to terms with being gay, I had managed to get in touch with my Dad’s parents and in turn my dad and after 16 years not long before Mum had Miriam we met. I knew he was my Dad the minute I saw him, the feeling that a stranger has such an overpowering bond with you is the oddest feeling ever. We had some similarities and seemed to get on well and we even ordered the same McDonalds meal, for some reason that memory really sticks with me. We wrote regularly and I met some of my other family members, when I left home this relationship quietened also.

Now to the present day where are these relationships? Much has happened since much reconciliation has been made and I have a fantastic relationship with Tim. We go down the pub together, we get drunk together, and he is great company. I have never called him ‘Dad’ as I think it would freak him out but now I do see him as that and know that when the time comes my children will know him as their Granddad.

As some of you will know Bong died last year aged 68. It was very sudden; he was diagnosed with cancer and died within 7 weeks, to say a huge part of me is now missing would be an understatement. The fact he wont be at my wedding is like a wound that I don’t think will heal, I will have a fabulous day, he would be furious at me if I didn’t, I will always miss him. You don’t get true gentlemen like him anymore.

As for my Dad? It’s an odd one. We don’t have an ideal relationship by far (whatever that is) we speak on the phone every couple of months and email occasionally we haven’t seen each other in over three years. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that with my entire childhood bond with him having never existed we don’t have that connection which is a shame as I would like us to. I invited him to the wedding and got a muted response and have heard nothing since so I can only assume he won’t be there, maybe he would find it to weird? I have never met his wife; I have met my younger brother and sister once, though Emma does text me quite often. This is down to both of us I do not lay all the blame with him at all. I do however feel I am at a crossroads of do we try hard to make the relationship work, or just leave it? I don’t even know what sort of a relationship he wants with me? This is something I need to clarify and deal with pronto I think as life is just too short.

I don’t know if I have answered any of my questions that I set out to; I do know I feel much better for getting it all out. I have also just realised that rather than my hard efforts to write something in fiction it would be much easier for me to sell out and get a deal writing one of those ‘tragic life stories’ only it would be just that… tragic. I don’t feel sorry for myself over any of this, yeah life can deal you a shit hand but it can with anyone. If I was to write a memoir I would much rather it was in the vein of Augusten Burroughs who has some mad stuff happen to him but is fine with it and, like I can, can see the funny side.

Wow, what a deep amount of writing one film can inspire hey? I feel like I have been far too serious and should add something shallow and silly, so I shall. If you don’t want to watch the movie for the story… watch it for the scene where Colin Firth is having some ‘solo time’ in the bath! And with that thought in both yours and my heads, I shall sign off!

Giving Notice & No Notice Giving

2008-05-08T23:37:00.000+01:00

Finally today Mr B and I gave notice, no not on the flat (though the thought is tempting we are now have scaffolding to the nines) the 16 days notice that you need to give before you get partnered up. We were greeted as ever by the vile Betsy who you think given the name would be a fabulous ‘Golden Girl’ woman and who is in fact a homophobe who I have already once had words with. You can see a previous blog for that, she is vile, she can’t be arsed to do her job is obviously unsatisfied and so turns to being a complete bitch, but with a cyanide smile. There were no water cups for the machine and the face she pulled when nicely asked to get some more was akin to Medusa. I know, I know, I know if she was on the telly and not part of my life I would love her.

Patricia then came to meet us and to give us our separate interviews. Now can I just say that bar Bitch Betsy the people at the offices are wonderful, we have laughed with them all and had a gay old time, Patricia was one of these people… and laugh during my interview? I howled. She is also somewhat a celebrity in Registrar circles being the first ever black female registrar in the UK. I know this as she had some cuttings on her wall and we had a lovely chat about it. I can’t divulge all the questions (a very silly rule) but we did come to a hiccup when I couldn’t remember how to spell my dads first or last name. I refused to have him ‘blanked’ but even phoning my mother she couldn’t remember ‘it’s been over 26 years Simon’ and he wasn’t at home or at work. So if he is spelt wrong whoops.

The whole thing took around an hour or so and then it was done… phew! After this we found out that Jenny cannot do our ceremony which was a bit gutting as we loved her and her Kath and Kim-ness but we have met the two ladies who will be doing the service and they are lovely, again there was more laughter and we sorted out some of the ceremony and how it will work. With just over two weeks to go it was about time.

After that I went to relax and tan at the Oasis in town. I normally don’t like the sun but after enjoying it thoroughly in Philly I thought that this year I will make an exception so with my notebooks, current read and mp3 player in tow I was off. I had forgotten how cruisey it was. There were groups of gay men and single gay men just out on ‘crotch watch’ I think me in my Speedo’s might have put them off but I wasn’t caring. What I loved was the ‘look at us’ preening some of them were doing. One particular group, who I swear all had socks down their trunks, were bitching about people, each other when the others were swimming and preening endlessly. Now that was great for the notebook, however I had to pretend that I wasn’t noticing them as didn’t want to give them the satisfaction or the opportunity to bitch about me.

Since When Did People Stop Boasting About Sex?

2008-05-07T21:50:00.000+01:00

I am not going to dwell on my early return from Philly or ‘family’ stuff that is going on so I shall simply carry on with other items regardless. Tonight was my first night working for FS Magazine, it’s a charity health and lifestyle magazine produced by the wonderful GMFA who I volunteer for, so as well as being for a good cause I also get more experience with working on different features and with new people.

Tonight I was doing the Vox Pops for ‘holiday/summer’ issue which is coming out in a few weeks. So I arranged to meet the photographer in Clapham at 7.30 as we thought that was the perfect time for the lads to be out. They weren’t. While Kazbar was sort of doing ok, the Brewers was quite quiet, we had come too early. Eventually however the bar started to fill just as my jetlag slapped me around and I started to feel slightly odd. Being professional (I am) I simply carried on regardless in hindsight I don’t think it’s my best work and I am really a bit disappointed in myself.

The other thing that disappointed me was people’s responses. Ask them about a holiday and they seemed to wanna tell you a bit, ask about STI’s or sex which is what we wanted and suddenly they clammed up. Maybe I wasn’t being as chatty and didn’t build up the rapport with them that I should have, but after having dealt with some bloody awkward celebs in the past however long (and some awkward no celebs in my social life) I wasn’t sure it was that. Maybe it’s the picture in a magazine that gets dotted around London bit that bothers peoples as a lot of people were saying ‘ask me questions but I don’t want a photo’.

Don’t get me wrong everyone is entitled to not having to talk about their sex life as much as people have the right to brag about it. I was asked to do a Vox Pop back when I was sweet 19 (I haven’t been what they are looking for since then damn them) and I was more than happy to discuss my sex life, but then I was also a complete tart back then. Now though I still do talk quite openly and in some cases very wrongly about sex with my friends… would I for a magazine? Hell, any publicity is better than none, or so they say. I guess the boys of Clapham just didn’t want to open up to me tonight and with the jet-bags under my eyes who can blame them?

So that was that, we managed to get 12 guys though I didn’t feel that the selection was diverse enough in ages or anything, but the photographer wanted his tea, and who am I to deprive a man of that?

Photo's Of Philadelphia

2008-05-06T23:04:00.015+01:00

So after not being able to load up any photos whilst I was away here are a load to bore you senseless with in no particular order...

My hotel suite...

The view from my window...
The Ben Franklin Bridge...

The neverending Skyscraper ComTower (very Doctor Who)...

The famous Love Square...
The spookiest place I have ever been... The balloon I daringly rode...

The view back down...

The Polar Bears a serious highlight... Me being Rocky...

"Dawn Have We Been Hit? Dawn"

2008-05-05T22:51:00.000+01:00

Saturday, Sunday and most of today have gone into one big blur. Partly because I have been so busy on both a pushed itinery and also because I was so desperate to do some much in the time that I have had there that the plan of doing a blog a day has kind of gone out of the window. I now have a few hours to spare before checking out and with rather bad sunburn the park that was once beckoning me with all its might makes me think ‘ouch’ a little. I have decided there for to pop some pictures with an over view of some of the fun and frolics I have had. Sadly I didn’t take my camera to the Blue Ball as that was an experience I shall never forget. Masses of pretty much naked men in a warehouse dancing to trance versions of the latest tunes all off their heads, unforgettable. I may have joined in, that’s something that only I shall ever know ha.

On Saturday morning we met the delightful Tami, she is ‘Gay Personality of the Year’ in Philadelphia and she met us for a gorgeous breakfast (I had pancakes with bacon scrambled eggs and potatoes – amazing) and for a tour of the famous ‘Gaybourhood’ we saw the hotels (I will be holding them to their free week stay they have promised) the shops, eateries the works including some of Americas oldest gay bars.

One of the things that struck me so much on the tour was the community. Soho I now know is not a community. We don’t have a community centre for example, we don’t have younger gay men looking after older (they call them the Phila-dentures very fondly), or older teaching younger in various classes from salsa to gay history. We have none of these things and it’s a shame. One of the things which to me symbolised the community feel of the place was the ‘gaybourhood mural’ which is part of a scheme in Philadelphia with all murals. The community gets together votes on a mural to brighten an empty wall (with convicted graffiti artists also helping as community service) in the area and then everyone joins in with the painting and it becomes a kind of public effort/gathering, again this is something we in London would never do.

After the morning with Tami we went of to the Rittenhouse Street Festival. Everyone joins in there are barbeques, stalls everything. It’s fabulous. It was then time for me to hit the Jacuzzi and have a smarten up before the Equality Forum Dinner, where we were joined by the wonderful Tami again, her girlfriend who I adored Melissa and the wonderful Marion who was our guide. The dinner was first class, the conversations interesting and I met a Governor which I found most exciting… it was in the toilets as well so that adds class to my story, oh and the fact I only knew he was the governor after the conversation at the urinal. I then got changed back at the hotel and was out again for the Blue Ball, which is a night I think best to forget.

Sadly this could not be forgotten the next morning (yesterday) when I woke at 8am only 3 hours after getting in to have a long shower before meeting Simon S2 to check out the Museum of Art. We made sure we stopped at the Rocky statue which has oddly been hidden. I mentioned the Museum and how fabulous it was in my last blog so I won’t bore you with the details again. I will say that it was Bongs birthday, or would have been, and was weird to be walking around the Museum he loved when he visited. I thought of him as I strolled around.

It was then a food hunt which I have to say has hardly been a hardship the food being so delicious. We decided to hop on the Philadelphia trolley to get to South Street (their version of Camden) a choice that ended up taking us bloody ages.

The trolley tells you everything you need to know (how Philadelphia was first and best for everything) and more. My encounter on Friday had been a light hearted one, this one was more harrowing with Dennis or whatever his name was finding himself very funny with in jokes to driver Dawn. I wondered if he noticed that no one else was laughing. The bad joke became even less funny for him (much funnier for us) when we were shunted hard by a car; yes the car happily drove into us and drove off. Well it took Dennis several moments to even acknowledge the hit! Unlike Dawn who I fear you would never wish to mess with. ‘Dennis, get out and see the damage, I need all your addresses and numbers, does anyone have whiplash?’ We then all had to sit and fill in our details and wait an age before we could move on.

South Street was explored and then we walked the front by the Delaware and headed for Sunday OUT the big street festival that isn’t Pride but sort of is, a little confusing. Was fabulous to sit on the street eating (yes more) chatting with Simon S2 who is a bloody nice fella and then take pictures of the people as they enjoyed the sunshine (the sunburn started here) and perused the stalls and other men. My random highlight was that I finally saw one of those famous homophobic cults who shout how gay men are paedophiles. As I gay man I should have been horrified, I was mesmerized and the battle of him verses the gay population was quite a spectacle.

Today, after an early night, we met Ellen and Sarah for our final Four Seasons breakfast. Ellen then took us to the Zoo. She was bemused we were so keen to go but it’s unlike any Zoo here (bar a pissed off leopard) and we saw Polar Bears, a real highlight for me. Speaking of highs it was then 400ft up in the balloon. Yes, me, who is scared of heights! Highs sums up the whole experience really, I am in love with this city, even the shops which I have hit hard not long ago. All too soon it will be time to go and I will be really sad to leave.

First Friday

2008-05-02T18:31:00.000+01:00

I am quite tipsy as I type so this will be short and sweet. I have been out with the wonderful Sarah and Simon S 2 tonight to two events. ‘Art After Five’ at the Museum of Art and ‘First Friday’ in the streets of Old City.

‘Art After Five’ is a new concept in the city where you go and watch jazz acts, singers, musicians and dancers in ‘The Great Staircase’. Sadly tonight we were treated to what was part mime, part art, part modern interpretation dance based on the life of the artist Frieda. This would have been fine had it not been so odd. A woman who took off most of her clothes threw herself round in some flowers and then wailed. I was glad of my 12% Philadelphian Beer frankly. We also kept getting vile looks as we were all talking!

We then had a very tipsy tour of some of the Museum of Art and it is fantastic. Not like in the UK where everything is behind alarms, ropes and the like. You can touch some of the old relics and get as close as you could wish to the paintings. There are also rooms that have been literally transported from halls in Derbyshire, hotels in Paris, temples in India and placed in rooms here. The highlight being a small Chinese village just sat in one of the galleries that you can then explore.

After this we were driven to old city (via the gamma, delta buildings of the frat population that looked like another set from an American movie) to first Friday. An event where all the private galleries open up to the public with wine, beer and nibbles and you can peruse and buy to your hearts content. I did much perusing and drinking but not purchasing. If only we had something like this in the UK it’s such a community thing, everyone getting together and buying and appreciating the local art scene. Genius.

Frivolous Fears in Philly (or First Impressions)

2008-05-02T18:15:00.000+01:00

Today I am extremely proud of myself. I have combated a fear that I never thought that I would. In fact technically I have combated two. One is the fear of heights, the other is the fear of lifts. The pride I feel for myself is somewhat glowing in all honestly.

After a scrumptious breakfast of Eggs Benedict in their full American glory with Ellen (the Visitors Bureau rep), Tami (Gay Personality of the Year in Philadelphia) and Fara (Four Seasons PR) which was a magically momentous display of out doing and out knowing but with wonderfully saccharine smiles all round we headed to Ellen’s office before one of the most boring interviews/meetings I have ever endured. So much so I shall not mention it again.

In the reception of Ellen’s office I noticed that we would be getting a lift, I hadn’t from the outside bothered to check how tall the office itself was. In future I will be more aware of everything around me. As I noticed she touch the 30th floor I felt a small moment of dread. As she calmly said ‘I love this lift its so fast, I mean it doesn’t even stop until the 21st floor and it gets there in 15 seconds’ to Simon S2 I felt even more edgy and moved to where I could hold on, not that the sweat from my hands was helping my grip. Suddenly we were there.

I decided to leave the fact I was scared of heights and lifts for a short while. Well until Ellen asked me why I was so quiet and then I divulged. She gave me a hug. She then added a little to the torture through a laugh of ‘therapy’ and showed us a 360 of the view from the height, it was fantastic. Next up the 400ft balloon in the zoo if we go!

The afternoon (after a delicious lunch of a Cheese Steak – you should go to Philly purely for one of these) we were left to our own devices. Simon S2 went to check out some art. I decided to be a complete tourist and hop on the Philadelphia Trolley via a huge ice cream along the sidewalks of Market Street. The trolley took me on a tour of various hot spots of the north east and centre of town, past the ‘Rocky’ steps of the Art Museum and to a destination I almost jumped off the Trolley to get into, a destination that was not so much a travel feature destination but a very much Simon Savidge destination… The Eastern State Penitentiary.

The sun was shining so really I should have just wandered a nice park but this was too good a chance to miss and any Most Haunted fan would have done the same. Considering the sun was shining so much and that the prison is derelict and open in places to the elements I have never been so cold. I can only describe it as the spookiest place I have ever been. Though no one was ever killed on death row ‘the official way’ it had seen many murders and stabbings. The whole place had a dark, dank and typical ghost train feel only real. I was happy as a pig in the proverbial. I spent a good hour or so in there, including a few minutes in Al Capone’s cell which was odd. Now am happily sat at my desk at the hotel typing up this blog, that you probably wont get until I am back, watching the people of Philadelphia frolic in the fountain in Logan Square in Philadelphia’s Museum District. With the sun reflecting radiantly is as I type from the corner of the window where the skyscrapers seem to wink and shimmer. It feels like I have walked into a movie and as first impressions go, this movie will be my years blockbuster!