I Can Hear The (Wedding) Bells!

Now that all my family know and the date is sorted and everything I am very excited to announce that I am indeed getting hitched on May the 24th of this very year. Some of you will have known this was coming for a while, some of you will be a bit shocked and others of you will know Mr B and I have been having a bumpy ride and so this might look odd. So let’s start at the beginning…

Mr B actually asked me late last spring. I instantly said yes and I just knew he was the one; we hadn’t been together massively long so we decided after telling everyone that we would have a long engagement and get hitched in the summer of this year. As time grew nearer we changed or minds for lots of reasons (life is too short mainly). Now Mr B is from Brazil, so everything we did had to do had to be inline with the Home Office. This is where the bumps started. I had only told my closest friends and family about the wedding plan up to this point as we knew we could be rejected.

We saw a solicitor got it all sorted and then bless the home office; they changed the law on the 28th of February making everything simpler but harder all at once (its really long winded). I got cold feet via rising stress, argued with some of my family, then we rowed a lot, I wasn’t getting the big fairytale thing I wanted (I have a severe Cinderella complex at times ha, ha) and it was off. Yep… drama!

After talking everything through we sorted ourselves out (they say marriage is one of the most stressful times of your life – I now have less than two months to sort everything out) we applied and bugger me last week we got our ‘Certificate of Approval’ now it’s all systems go. No it hasn’t been the most romantic of times (though one of my mates has said ‘the amount of stuff you have had to go through is actually very romantic – you must want to be together so much’, we do) and the fact you have people breathing down your necks is hard but now its booked.

Actually random story of homophobia at the venue yesterday… when we were going to give notice I mentioned something like ‘so with the notice does it have to be exactly 15 days before the wedding?’ I really am quite clueless in the whole rules and regulations, I actually thought only gay people have to give notice, and it is in fact everyone. Anyways… ‘It’s not a wedding is it Sir, I think you will find it’s merely a partnership’ the over made up old crow sneered. Its fine, I have complained and I have been told the matter will be dealt with. Just thought would add that strange moment in for you all. Least our registrar is much nicer, she is like a character from Kath & Kim ‘grrrrrreatch’.

So now all I have to do is sort out; cake, meal venue, late night venue, some dj’s, outfits for me, best women, bridesmaids etc, what our vows will be, erm… pretty much everything! Any tips from anyone? Please?

I feel bad have said nothing sooner, I just needed to know it was definite before started shouting from the rooftops. The event is going to be very small, close family and friends for the ceremony and dinner and then lots more people (we hope) for the big send off in the evening. Oh and it perfectly coincides with ‘A Diary of a Mad Groom to Be’ coming very soon to a Bent Magazine near you. Seriously though myself and Mr B are overjoyed yet slightly daunted by the time frame. Hang on? Shouldn’t that be myself and the soon to be Mr S! How queer that sounds!

It Was My Birthday & I Cried ‘Cause I Wanted To

So yesterday I hit the big 26! Now I mentioned in a previous blog that I was none too happy about this. Not because I was getting older (bring it on) but because my early twenties were officially dead, I can never have those back. I have the fond memories and the not so fond ones that helped me grow up and become who I am.

So I woke up slightly hungover (thanks to the fabulous Lovers & Losers – more later) and it hit me, I was heading into my late twenties. ‘No problem’ I thought… and breathe no palpitations for the birthday bint. When I opened the four cards (bloody bank holiday post) one was from Gran, no Bong. They always say the first Christmas and birthday without someone is hard. I didn’t realise it would hit me like a slap around the face. I cried. And cried. And Cried.

I felt much better, until I remembered that thanks to my swallowed bank card I had no money, neither did Mr B, so we couldn’t do anything fun and I had no presents to unwrap. Fortunately Mr B had a small emergency fund which paid for a trip to the cinema to see Juno where we both cried. I kept telling myself that this was therapeutic. No cards cos of the post, Juno, no money, getting older, only a few calls, it was a low. I had Mr B though! I also had a hangover and looking back at the photo below which was part of the cause of the hangover I felt very happy.

The photo was taken when I was 26 years and 20 minutes old. It to me celebrates some of the best things about being 25 and some of the things I look forward to in the future aged 26. The photo is at Lovers & Losers last night in Trash Palace (on of my favourite haunts) hosted by two new people I met aged 25 and hope I can call friends; Paul Burston and Dom Agius (pictured) they also do Polari, through these events I have made some great new mates (you know who you are) and had some fun times. Yes FUN has been and will continue to be high on my agenda. Fun, fun, fun! Thinking of new things that have happened in the last year makes me feel positive, like my new career. So bring on being 26. It’s going to be a blast new people, new experiences, new ‘stuff’ I want it all. Plus something very exciting and life changing will be happening to me aged 26…

…More of that soon! What? I have to keep you guessing!

Gay Paris? Not Really

The trip that I had been longing for and waiting for is now over I am back in the drizzling London. The trip technically started on Friday after spending the day with Mitch and Muffintop trying on some VERY important outfits, Mr B and I ran home grabbed our packing and stayed over at Muffintop’s (she lives in Islington and it was much easier to be at St Pancras at 5.30am) after some of her legendary pizza’s and quite a lot of wine. We went to bed at 12.30.

Only four and a half hours later and we were awake again ready for the off, well I say ready Mr B doesn’t do 5 minute get up’s sadly. The taxi was early, Addison Lee sometimes being a little too prompt, and within minutes we were at the station, and a BIG drama happened as within 10 minutes I was in Kings Cross Station in tears.

I had forgotten to get out money to change at the Bureau Du Change so I went up to the (very grumpy and sleepy) man behind the counter who said the nearest cash machine was in Kings Cross. Now you would think when building what they are claiming is the ‘best train station in the world’ they might have thought to put a few hole in the walls in? Apparently not, I trundled to Kings Cross where my bank card got stuck (I asked people to help, they wouldn’t) and swallowed. I burst into tears. Fortunately Mr B had the emergency credit card… I was still in tears.

A cup of coffee later and I was feeling better, until the woman at customs decided to empty the contents of my bag (we so won’ mention some of the joys in there) and check as the fabulous ‘new Paris’ bag I had bought still had the gel shit in it that keeps it fresh and that they thought were drugs. Don’t worry it gets less dramatic until we come home from now on.

The Euro Tunnel was so smooth and fast (on the way there) I actually didn’t realise we had been through it. From rainy London we were suddenly in the delightful sunshine in Paris. Over the space of two days we had mainly sunshine with small bouts of drizzle, bloody painful hail and snow in Calais on the way back, more of the latter later.

By lunchtime I was sat with omelette and fries happy as a pig in the proverbial. I am sorry no one does omelettes like the French… no one! We had been on the metro the wrong way, up the Sacre Coeur and back down, all around Pigalle and its sex shops and we’d nipped into the Museum of Erotica – very insightful. I think Pigalle is now my favourite part of Paris; it’s got a Soho sort of vibe about it.

Onto the hotel The Hotel Royal Monceau http://www.royalmonceau.com/fr please do check the website out and especially the health spa, you don’t have to want to go there I just think it needs to be seen to be believed. The Hotel was wonderful the staff very friendly. Our bed was changed twice in the space of 5 hours and we hadn’t even used it the first time… honest! The bathroom was marble and basically it was heaven. Off up the Arc De Triomphe next, and then off to the Picasso Museum via several metro’s where we got lost.

We got lost the following day and I have to say it was two of my favourite parts of the whole weekend! Getting off the tourist trap and just loosing yourself in such a beautiful city is a rare treat. The Picasso Museum was sadly shut early which caused a slightly large bottom lipped sulk from me for all of 5 minutes before we found a Super Market and I found chocolate and crisps. Why in what was basically a Londis did they have more fun food of a much wider variety than my pissing massive Sainsbury’s down the road? I don’t understand. Mind you I also didn’t understand some of the flavoured processed cheeses that Mr B was eating as we made our way through the gay area of Paris. I call it a gay area, it was two pubs on a street, and we found another randomly the next day in a completely different area. They call it Gay Paris… why? It’s not remotely. A few bars does not make somewhere gay, I felt sorry for the French Poufs who only have that, not that I am a scene queen.


A delicious Crepe outside the Notre Dame, got lost again near St Michael found some great restaurants to come back to, back to the hotel. We had the spa to ourselves. For two hours Mr B and I jacuzzied, steamed, swam – the works. Pure decadence and I was so relaxed when I got out of there it was bliss. Back on the metro and off to find one of the nice restaurants, sadly they were all closing as it was now almost 11pm. The one that was open was… indescribable, sadly I didn’t have my camera at this point. Mr B had snails (disgusting), I had French Onion Soup (amazing) we shared Fondue. To cut a long story short I officially hate fondue. I had to find a supermarket on the Champs Elysees on the way back to the hotel.

The next day the start of 7am actually became 10am as we were both so knackered. We did a boat tour up and down the Seine which was beautiful. We were very lucky with some wonderful sunshine. We managed to get lost via all the designer shops and the Louvre before finding a lovely square near the Pompidou Centre to have lunch in before heading back to the Gare Du Nord.



A final farewell was had in a lovely Tabac down the road from the station. Oh, after being hassled by several homeless people. Now we get this a lot in London, it’s not so common in Paris though. Homeless people and beggars are around (there are a huge amount of drunks on the metro’s at night all seem much more harmless than in England, I don’t live there so cant comment) but very silently. I think it’s much more effective than the women outside the station who were literally in your face. Mr B got questioned to death at customs, I have never seen him so nervous ad upset. It was a lot of ‘what do you do’, ‘why’, and ‘how long for?’ made the last bit of his holidays a bit sadder though as is quite stressful.

My stress levels were next up on the agenda. Got on the Eurostar fine, it stopped just outside Calais for AGES! No explanation why, we thought it must be the masses of snow. Then it was onwards and into the tunnel where ten minutes in the whole carriage (probably the whole train) jumped at the scraping banging sound. We came to a short holt in the tunnel and I honestly thought something awful must have happened, I think everyone did by their faces. We were soon on our way again with no explanation. We got diverted at Ashford where the previous train boarded on to ours… very odd.

All in all an amazing holiday, we both think we might move out there now, we just didn’t want to come back.

Planet Jarmania

Last night I had the privilege of going to the Gaydar Nation preview night of the Derek Jarman exhibition that they are sponsoring at the Serpentine Gallery in Kensington Gardens. It was a lovely affair which introduced me further into the life’s and works of Derek Jarman – a sadly sometimes forgotten British talent and institution I think this exhibition will improve this.

When I say it furthered my knowledge of Jarman the knowledge was sadly very limited. Now no longer so, I am much improved for it. I am not one of those gay men who says ‘woe is me I am gay and look how shitty life is for me’ I mean come on, I am very lucky to be in a family who are so not bothered about me being gay its fabulous, I can have a ‘civil partnership’ and I can adopt. Oh and I can kiss in public, not that I do but I don’t like that from anyone, gay, straight whatever. Get a room and get out of the path of my shopping mission.

I had never caged (I am not sure if I had been aware before or not) that gay men kissing was illegal until around 20 years ago. I also didn’t know who were responsible for this moving forward in the ‘public kissing movement it did’. Watching it on the screen I was moved deeply. As did the tale of Jarman and his HIV positive status and how he made himself a public figure who talked about his HIV status.

I have missed something, you see we got a private viewing of the gallery and the works but also of the documentary ‘Derek’ by Isaac Julien (see www.derekthemovie.com for more), who also put together the pieces of Jarman’s that have now been saved, some of which are on display at the Serpentine. You have to look at the beds on the walls. The rage and torment and sadness they convey is phenomenal!

Back to the movie… it was narrated by (and heavily featured) Tilda Swinton in the form of a letter that she wrote to him the day after he died of an HIV related illness. They had been friends for years and built a beautiful and creative friendship. It was her words and all the footage of the films he made, paintings he made, public speeches he gave that actually moved me to tears. You must go and see it whether you are an avid fan or have never heard of him – you will be converted, I have now ordered Sebastian, am going to go back to the Serpentine for the surround sound version of his movie ‘Blue’.

I found myself wanting to know this man, I am very sorry I will never get to interview him. Tilda says ‘I met you when I decided it would be fun to join Planet Jarmania for a while and see what happened.’ I left feeling that was exactly what I would have loved to have done. I must go and see Prospect Cottage and pay homage to him at his garden, he managed to grow plants in the grounds of a power plant where no one said anything could grow, just to see more of his life. So that’s that, do go you will be moved and in awe of this mans talents.

Another gay man I will be paying homage to this weekend is Oscar Wilde I am off to ‘gay Paris’ for a few days will report on all the adventures when I get back. Have a fabulous Easter one and all, if any of you have any suggestions of a good novel based in Paris do let me know. I have almost managed to finish devouring one of Jarman’s diaries!

Tell Tale Signs of Slight Ageing

Occasionally you find yourself feeling older, for example when a birthday is coming up. It does make you think blimey where did all that time go? I am turning 26 in five days which I know is not old (eighty is old – until you get there) and I know I have no reason to moan… actually I do. If one more person says ‘oh you’re a baby’ I might scream. I am not a baby, the beard gives it away I think, or the fact maybe that I am almost six foot? Most of my friends are in their late twenties and early to late thirties and they have absolutely no sympathy for me at all at the moment, come on though when you get to twenty six its not the fact that coming to thirty scares you it’s the fact that your early twenties are officially dead.

I have noticed the following in the last few weeks alone;
- My stubble has grey in it
- My skin needs to be moisturised, I have always avoided this
- A couple of glasses of wine will get me pissed too easily
- Friday night with a good book and chocolates is my idea of heaven, not the club
- I like ‘dinners’ over a night of pub crawls
- My hangovers are getting worse (closer to mingovers)
- Wallowing in the bath is better than a quick shower and go
- I have started to say ‘aren’t they too young to be in here?’
- The words ‘oh that’s a bargain’ are pouring out more often than needed
- I have opened a savings account (this idea was abhorrent to me until recently)
- I get excited about appliances for the home, particularly the kitchen

Today however I feel ‘older’ I am shattered, serious bags under eyes. I have two social engagements tonight (The Jarman Exhibition and a new night ‘Work’ at Heaven) I currently just want to stay in bed. I have actually been out to the post office and Sainsbury’s – see that’s me happy – and am now in bed again. Yes, that’s right lazy sod. I should be doing some work and haven’t, the words won’t come. I had a small moment of self pity in Sainsbury’s when all I was buying was meal for ones and cat food. The woman looked at the bags under my eyes and me with pure pity and a slight snarl! Bitch! She doesn’t know the real me! Mad me feel worse though, good customer service.

I have no problems with getting older (except for when I feel it). I have been reliably informed by my mother (now 42) ‘your teenage years are all hormones and horniness, twenties its freedom and fun, thirties are fabulous, forties are divine’ that to me sounds great. I have problems with the idea of getting old and not having accomplished each year what I intend to but no one wants to feel they waste their life do they?

Have made my decision, am going to get off my arse stop feeling sorry for myself and celebrate these last days of 25! I shall go to the Jarman Exhibition and then ‘Work’… but I will get the last tube, just so can have an early night.

Giving Up Giving In

My Fortnight Without TV

I have freeview again, thanks to the joys of my second trip to the supermarket this weekend, I have happily plugged in my new box after the last one popped (and died) two weeks ago to this very day. Really I should change the title of this blog to my week without TV as the first week I did watch some DVD’s and when was up north quite happily dipped into some serious TV ogling with Alice. This second week after a dare from Mr B I have avoided all telly there’s no money on it, just the interest of how I cope. I said fine, after all I am not telly addict. I have not been allowed to watch any DVD’s, no iPlayer or other internet demand TV. This is how I have gotten on.

Sunday – Bar the fact that I am missing Most Haunted I have no major sulk, after all I did have a serious OD of Most Haunted only three days ago, it still irks me that I have missed an episode I have never seen that I could. Ho hum, there is always next week. Have an evening of phoning all the family and some friends, bath, bed and book.

Monday – No Bent work, normally would possibly watch an old classic movie like ‘Pillow Talk’ or ‘All About Eve’ on a no Bent day to break up my writing. Write for two hours then hit a small brick wall. Manage to get lost in Facebook for over an hour and myspace too. Feel like rebelling and going on Youtube but bar the Madonna video finally being aired I have agreed I won’t do that. Read. Pop out for a mooch round the shops, write for another hour, finish off book.

Tuesday – Busy all morning – good. Interview cancelled for the afternoon. Bugger. Am going out in the evening so it’s fine. Type up the morning’s interview, followed by a nice long soak in the bath, have realised like baths more than showers, feel have learnt something. Have several pointless MSN conversations. Go to Polari. Muffintop is asking me if saw that great show on TV last night? I have to restrain myself from beating her over the head with the Pizza Hut pan.

Wednesday – wake up early and hungover, have stupid breakfast thing so writing will have to wait a few hours and can’t concentrate on new book. Once home from ‘breakfast’ stay in some sort of no mans land staring at the ceiling and out of the window until it is time for my lunch date. This fabulously goes on for over 2 hours. Get home, play with cat, after an hour or so she gets freaked out, why is Simon spending so much time with me in one go? I do play with her and love her a lot, but normally while I am typing or relaxing on the bed… with the TV on. Maybe just maybe I like the telly a little too much? I am always telling people ‘nah I don’t watch that’ or ‘oh I gave up with that, have stopped watching it’ – so why now am I missing it so? Torchwood, I realise.

Thursday – Editor gives me some add-ons for this month’s issue. Keeps me busy for an hour or so then manage to type over 2,000 words of my book. Feel very accomplished and begin to think ‘who needs TV’. As Stephen King says in On Writing (which I finished last night) TV is the biggest problem for a writer. I think ‘pah all 41+ channels who needs you, I have some great stories going on in my head.’ Go out to the Jodie Harsh Birthday party get very drunk. Come home do blog and stick my tongue out at the TV feeling very pleased with self.

Friday – The hangover is unbearable, too much free drink. The fact I realise I missed Dawn porter on BBC3 and cant watch the repeat on TV or the internet even more depressing. I don’t want to go out, write or read. The TV looks at me, what I would kill for a ‘Hettie Wainthrope’, ‘Rebus’, ‘Inspector Morse’, ‘Agatha Christie’ or even a goddamn ‘Emmerdale Omnibus’ and I gave up soaps a year ago. What’s more I look at my diary… nothing down to do. Fortunately ‘the ex’ calls seeing if I am free this afternoon for a late lunch. I could kiss him. By 7pm am sat back in the flat, the TV jeering at me. I get in the bath with Stephen King and get immersed.

Saturday – Mr B and I spend a rare Saturday morning and afternoon together. Lovely. Only in the afternoon he really wants to watch TV. I find this cruel. He knows I can’t watch anything and he is the one who bloody dared me. He goes through the DVD’s and is going to slip one on, I go mental. He changes his mind, wise move. (I have some big news on me and Mr B – will tell next week when is sorted.) He leaves and I get typing for a few hours. Having done my daily minimum. Put on some music, and try to relax. End up in long silly msn chats so decide it’s a waste and have a bath. No one on MSN when out of bath, feel sulky and a bit bored. Read, read and read. Feel better. Open the Guardian and see The Guide fall out, full of all the things can look forward to next week… and all the fabulous things have missed ‘Most Haunted’, ‘Torchwood’, ‘Dawn Gets…’ and ‘Love Soup’. Through said Guide across the room.

Sunday – all feels well it’s plugged in; I don’t actually want to watch anything though. Maybe watch the Dancing on Ice Final and definitely Most Haunted, maybe a mid afternoon movie with Mr B? Other than that its no great shakes, it’s just nice to have there if I need it, plus have written more this week than ever. Plus after all as I said I’m not addicted, you just miss what you had when it’s gone.

Next week Simon gives up caffeine and the internet – as bloody if!

Shots of My Saturday

I realised as I walked to Sainsbury’s today that I had my camera with me. So as I went I decided to take pictures of things that made me ponder, smile or whatever. Here some of the images I came up with.

The Tower
Possibly one of the ugliest buildings that I have ever seen and the nation seemed to agree as it was voted one of the top ten building to demolish – they still haven’t. There is something distinctly ominous about it, something wrong. My little sister Mim says it reminds her of something out of Doctor Who, she’s not wrong! Would make an interesting setting for a story, maybe?



Next Mannequins
I always like to go to the Tandem Centre if am shopping, now one of the first shops of I will pop into (and never buy anything from – have seen a fabulous ‘Mr Lazy’ t-shirt today) now you look at these jackets…


Do you think they deserve to be the price they are labelled at? (I have the feeling its a cock up!)



They Have Bastardized Enid Blyton
This really upset me today. Really, really, really upset me. I have banged on about book covers before; these are shocking and make it look really, really cheap. I am all for getting children to read but this is a disgrace. She is part of our heritage and shouldn’t have her covers cheapened to make her look like she wrote computer games.



Now Just What The Heck Is One Of These?
I will admit I might have released a little snigger, I just wasn’t expecting my local party shop to be advertising one of these. I now want to know what one is, am a little frightened of googling it though. Should I be upset I missed out on having one? All I got through puberty was spots and mood swings.



Pigeon Chicks
There is that saying that you never see pigeon chicks… I have today. We were walking from the lovely Merton Abbey Mills market after a light lunch when we heard some tweeting; we had a nosey and look what we found!


So that’s that, a random and possibly pointless set of snap shots into my world today! Promise a more interesting blog next time. Sometimes though we should just take stock of the little things in life, or maybe I am just being too deep?

Wicked, Very Wicked & Harsh

Been a really busy few days hence no blogging but now I am back. Wednesday was very surreal with a slight hangover from the previous nights Polari I had a rare early morning meeting for a ‘breakfast’ with a certain jewellery designers, no I have not done a Katie Price and started my own range. It appears along with all things London and the Agony Uncle role I am now starting to do some fashion. I used to want to be a Fashion Designer so was quite excited about the do.

When I got there it was like walking onto the set of The Devil Wears Prada. They were practically sniffing out my Primark attire as a hound on the hunt for a fox. To say I didn’t fit in with half the people there was an understatement. I wasn’t female, blonde, dressed in the latest designer gear with a handbag worth over £1,000. My man bag was over £100 so I felt I could gain one gold star for that maybe… as it turned down not so. ‘Have you seen her Chanel bag? Oh it’s ghastly, more money than taste that one’ said a blonde thing looking at around £2000 worth of bag in question. I had my stuff put in the cloakroom without hesitation. The good things were the breakfast with Champagne (could get used to that) and the free jewellery especially as it’s a brand I actually like.

Wednesday also saw me late lunching with the hilarious Scott Capurro. I have not laughed that much in ages, pant wettingly funny. Fortunately not literally as I don’t think the people at Patisserie Valerie would have been very impressed. He is doing the Soho Theatre as of next week and if you get the chance please, please go as he is genuinely funny and though people seem to think he is ‘too out there’ if you pay attention to what he’s saying you will laugh and sometimes agree. Check out http://www.scottcapurro.com/ for more info!

Today has been a day of 2,500 words of ‘Untitled’ which is very, very pleasing though I know am going to have to go through and edit the bugger at some point, not until the end though I need to get it all out and on the page.

Late this afternoon I had an interview with the delightful Kerry Ellis. She plays the Wicked Witch of the West (Elphaba) in Wicked, which is what it says and is off to Broadway shortly with the role. I am doing a ‘West End’ feature for Bent. Lovely lass, very open and genuine, we had a nice cuppa in her dressing room. Was odd going into the theatre I used to work at and having a nosey at how the other side lived.

DD had kindly invited me to be his plus one at Jodie Harsh’s Birthday Party. Boy does Jodie know how to put on a good bash. Love Circus and loved this event, was like a real life edition of OK! Magazine in there, I want a ‘Harsh is my Home Girl’ t-shirt as was sulking didn’t get one. Now it’s gone midnight and I am off to bed with Stephen King before a gorgeous 4 days off! Phew!

What Is Polari?

I do know that Polari is the language that gay men used to use before this is just a useful tool to link the two fabulous aspects of my day. I have started a new project for Bent called ‘We Wish You Were Our Mum’ I cant give the details away until its out in May’s edition as I don’t want it to get nicked, suffice to say I had one of my childhood idols being my ‘new Mum’ number one the lovely Janet Ellis (technically I would like to point out therefore Sophie Ellis Bextor was my sister for the morning by association).

One of the things I try and pride myself on not doing is name dropping (you'll have to excuse me on this count now and again when its just too exciting), when your job is interviewing celebrity’s, authors, singer’s and the like and people ask you about your job I try and mention it in passing, or if I loved them I will rave about them, I am aware they are not my friends and its professional (though I have been lucky to befriend a few) and out of all the people I have interviewed so far the one who has everyone, I include myself, the most excited has been Janet. Or as one of my friends likes to call her ‘Saint Janet’ along with ‘Saint Sarah’ and ‘Saint Yvette’ – you get the idea.

I think it’s the fact that she was a part of so many peoples childhoods that I know. So when she left a voicemail on my answer machine I stored it to play people and the same with texts. You probably all think I am very sad right now. So when I met her in Starbucks (glamorous) I actually for a few seconds didn’t know what to say. She was however wonderful, lived up to all I could dream, really open, happy to camp it up and talk about leaving Blue Peter – she left controversially as she was pregnant with out being married. I have the truth… you’ll have to wait for the interview. The polari link? One of the questions was about it and she knows her lingo.

So Polari Part 2… my second night at Polari in Soho’s Green Carnation was a joy.

Last month it was Stella Duffy, who read from her latest novel ‘The Room of Lost Things’ (which I have blogged about previously) this month it was the author Christopher Fowler. His latest book was ‘Old Devil Moon’ he chose to read some new unpublished stuff which was autobiographical and made us laugh out loud in parts. Paul and Dom were as usual the hosts with the mosts and it was a delight to see them and catch up with them both. The music was great, I have now downloaded Neneh Cherry’s ‘Raw Like Sushi’ and Mike Oldfield’s ‘Moonlight Shadow’ – thank you for the recommendations Dom. Was also great to see ‘Madame’ as ever. All the literary stuff has gotten me even more determined to push the ‘Bent Book Group’, my editor needs more convincing!

Took Muffintop for her debut and she loved it, she was so excited we had to rush our Stuffed Crust Pizza Hut. She was made very welcome, as everyone is, and we got down to some good old chair dancing! She was very taken with both the décor and the DJ’s. Fun was had by one and all!

Let's Talk About Sex

The great thing for me about being a writer and doing the journalism stuff for Bent is that I get to do weird and whacky things, some are chosen for me and some I choose to do myself. Today was one of those ‘oh I think I need to do that’ jobs, partly for the fact that the stuff I could learn would help with my agony uncle column ‘Simon Says’ and also as it would be good to have something a bit different in the magazine. So (along with Mr B) I headed for the new Sexhibition ‘Amora’ under the Trocadero in Piccadilly.

‘Amora’ is a fairly new exhibition that looks into sex, sexuality and the like. Right up my street for the column and something that fascinates me. I am not shy of the subject; let’s leave it at that as I know some of my family read this. I will say one thing I do think everyone be they 16 – 90 straight, gay, whatever deserves to have a full sex life that they want be it lots, none or… erm, somewhere in the middle? It’s not like you have to broadcast it to the world, but should you want to that’s your choice, I am now going off on a tangent.

The idea of Amora is that you discover more about yourself, how you work, how your partner works. These are through various ‘touch’ zones, some footage and lots and lots of information which is very easy to digest. There was a slight stumble on arrival, and that was the fact my contact had forgotten to tell the management I was attending. The staff are so friendly though and within a few minutes I was in with the walkie talkie (I did make a point that it shouldn’t JUST be a breathy seductive woman) to my ear ready for ‘my journey’. And it truly is just that it’s a journey from body language and dating to the final act and relationships and making love last. I am not going to go through everything (there is an Orgasm Tunnel) as you should go on the journey yourselves. I will say it’s NOT pervy or uncomfortable, and not like someone suggested some sort of orgy! You could go on your own or take your partner. Most of all its FUN! Check the picture below, I was looking slightly bemused.

The Duty Manager and I got talking at the end in the shop and they are doing courses for all sexualities. (They have some really interesting facts and information on gay and bi-sexual relationships as you go round.) They are massage, confidence etc. The things I firmly believe in and well I never something they may want me to be involved in! Randomly I may be helping on these now, I’ll keep you posted! Apparently Head Office called me a Sexpert – once the confusion of who I was and where I was from was sorted. I don’t think the title is quite me but hell; I’ll wear it with pride.

I'm Overpowered...

To say tonight’s gig at The Roundhouse was stunning or superb would be an understatement. It was Roisin Murphy and she was amazing, in fact f**king amazing some might say. The Roundhouse is a venue I hadn’t been to before and though I loved Moloko and both Roisin’s albums I hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing her live before.

She opened with ‘Modern Timing’ a fan favourite which merged into ‘The Time Is Now’ it started very simply with just her in a funky suit bowler hat and a guitar and bass. As soon as the next single ‘You Know Me Better’ started she was off, and so were the audience. It was like a festival of sight and sound, dramatic and just mind blowing and all with just her a band, backing singers and a screen.

She sang another Moloko track ‘Forever More’ which I had forgotten how much I loved, ‘Sow Into You’ and ‘Ramalama (Bang Bang)’ from the first solo album ‘Ruby Blue’ other than that it was a real showcase for the jaw droppingly brilliant album ‘Overpowered’. The audience (and what an audience it was, I felt like I was in Fire or Trade in Vauxhall – oh and Tracey Thorn was there, love her, as were Lady Lloyd and Kanye West) lapped it all up particularly the title track, the last single ‘Let Me Know’ and the amazing, amazing ‘Movie Star’.

Not only does Roisin have an amazing and unique voice but her presence on stage is perfection. The costumes are fantastic with hats and edgy dresses being the name of the day and I was literally blown away. Am just slightly scared about interviewing her in a few weeks now! I think I will have stage fright, something she clearly doesn’t.

A Stella Trip

Had a fabulous time up north, bar the morning sickness which seemed a slight issue on a few occasions. No I am not pregnant. Was seeing Alice who is nicely pregnant with twins hoorah, those of you who know me well will know this means a hell of a lot to me and the Savidge family after a pretty diabolical year.

Arrived yesterday early to find Alice already cooking pasta and tomatoes, yes a random craving at 10.30am, this was followed by one for a Breakaway which was caused after I was talking about booking a small ‘break away’ we couldn’t find one sadly so she had to make do with a Twix or something! Hang on do Twix still exist? I haven’t seen any in ages!!!! We then had a Pizza Hut craving today, only with no cheese, the mind boggles.

We did shopping yesterday until afore mentioned morning sickness (or as Al is calling it ‘all day sickness’) took hold in Manchester Town Centre and we went home. I had needed to get the new Stella Duffy book ‘The Room of Lost Things’ after giving my copy to me mum, more on Stella later. We then had a night of M&S ready meals – so good, so not good for you, especially as we had that horrifically calorie filled Bread & Butter chocolate pudding that was simply deliciously wrong – and watched Most Haunted at our home town of Matlock Bath. It was filmed in ‘the Pav’ where my Mum and Dad met at a school disco. Interesting? Then we watched a mutual favourite ‘Dawn Gets…’ good god I love that show.

Today was an early showing of ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ followed by Pizza Hut. The film is good but not as good as the book (they rarely are) all the acting is top notch. If you like a good corseted romp it’s for you, if you want historical facts let yourself have your boundaries of ‘fact’ pushed. I nearly missed the train back and before I knew it I was back in London.

I would have had my usual ‘I miss the north’ blues, had it not been I was meeting the delightful author Stella Duffy for coffee and an interview and catch up. I had seen her at Polari last month and really liked what she had read and so wanted to get her in Bent. (There is a good gay story in there!) She was delightful, very warm and friendly and really happy to tell me the ins and outs of publishing (and give me some tips) and I had a really lovely time. Loving her work. I almost didn’t want to leave for the opening of ‘Movieum’. I am half way through ‘The Room of Lost Things’ and think it is worth while having on any bookshelf… plug, plug, plug! He he! I won’t give much away check it out on Amazon etc and get it. I know something deeper is going on than you first think, well I feel it is, and the characters and descriptions of the life in South London are brilliant.

After that met Muffintop at Embankment for the ‘Movieum’ opening, it’s a new exhibition on at the big building near The Eye – cant remember the name. It’s, as you may have guessed, all about the movies and saw us drinking a bit too much champagne and having a bit too much fun with the dummies of Superman, Judge Dredd, and Batman etc . Now am home, a little tiddly and feeling like have done a bloody lot!

It's Not Nosey Its Observational

“Oh Daddy, he is so tired” the mid 30’s woman looks at her husband with a mixture of ‘we’ve been married for years’ love and apathy, whilst holding a taught screaming baby.

“Well let him sleep…” Daddy replies, sounding as weary as the child is quite apparently feeling.

“You’ll have to sit over there” Mummy demands looking at the chair on the opposite side of the carriage. She then looks at Daddy conveying ‘don’t mess with me right now, if you do our child will have a very traumatic and unhappy childhood and I will never have sex with you again’ in a single simple glance. Mummy wears the trousers, especially after the pain and suffering of child birth only four months ago to bare him a son as she insisted on telling him and everyone else as they got onto the 9.35 train from Euston to Manchester. “Go on… move; our little prince needs his space to sleep.”

Daddy moves with his Financial Times to the opposite chair like a man beaten before a battle has begun. He looks at the three men already sat where he joins them; all three make some kind of effort to act like they haven’t seen the whole conversation, the train journey soap opera as it unfolds. The man sat next to him looks absentmindedly out of the window; he is around 50 money to burn with both an iPod in his ears and an iPhone in front of him. He has no wedding ring. Daddy imagines him to be a bachelor, has a penthouse in Chelsea and sees children as a hindrance to his happy spoilt life. He’s not far wrong for the business man in question has been glaring at the shrieking child for the last five minutes.

The man in front of Daddy has been desperately trying to get some shut eye too from a night of drunken debauchery and if Daddy is not mistaken he can still smell the beer on him. It’s been too long since he was last allowed a beer, Mummy would kill him, he almost tuts forgetting that Mummy is sat next to him and frantically turning off the over head lights and shoving a Winnie the Pooh blanket over babies head, ‘our little prince clearly needs the dark to sleep too’ Daddy thinks.

Over his Financial Times he catches the eye of the man opposite, mid twenties, who has been watching the whole thing whilst multi-tasking reading a new hardback novel and making notes of some kind. He smiles looking slightly embarrassed, Daddy smiles back feeling embarrassment of another kind. The baby finally appears to be asleep, Mummy is engrossed in ‘The Perfectly Well Rounded and Happy Baby” or such like that Mummy has seemed to by a bookshop of. Daddy gets engrossed in the latest mergers and acquisitions.

“Daddy” snaps Mummy.
“Eh?” Daddy had forgotten baby and Mummy were even on the train, he was back to those stress free journeys up and down the country for meetings. He had hated them then what he would give to have them now.
“Daddy aren’t you listening to Mummy?”
“Yes dear.”
“What time did he go to sleep?”
“Sorry?” He isn’t sure whether this is a trap.
“What time did he go to sleep?”
“Erm” he feigns looking at his watch, he hasn’t a clue, looking at Mummy’s piercing eyes “…about 5 minutes ago.”
“Exactly?”
“More or less” as soon as the words come from his mouth he knows he had made a mistake, he can almost see the steam coming from Mummy’s ears.
“More or less, I’m sorry? Did you just say more or less?”
“I would say” he looks at his watch as the sweat starts to appear on his forehead “at 9.42.”
“Would you say 9.42 exactly?”
“No.” There is a temporary silence at this point.

“Do you care about this child?” Mummy is clearly furious she gets a worn notebook from her handbag; her voice rises with the following sentence. “I need to keep an exact log of the times he sleeps and wakes. So far he hasn’t had enough. All I ask is you take an interest… don’t you try and interrupt me. This is our son, this is his future, and his childhood is so precious. You don’t care do you, you just don’t care?”
The book is thrown in front of him. The daily lists of the last four months sleep patterns. In the action of throwing the book and her raised voice at such a pitch Mummy has now woken the baby who starts to scream at a slightly higher octave than his mother. She grabs the baby, kisses him, murmurs words of love, he screams louder. She holds him like a bomb ready to go off and looks at Daddy. Daddy looks back helpless.

“Look at what you did.” Mummy hands baby to Daddy biting her lip in sheer vexation at her lesser half. “Take him and walk him around and calm him down. I think you can do that? Go on, off you go. Mummy needs some time alone.” She buries herself back in ‘The Baby That Never Cries’ or whichever title it is and refuses to make eye contact with Daddy, he no longer exists not until he has done as he has been told. She feels she is looking after two babies, the biggest being the most irritating.

Daddy holds the baby and gets ready to take him on a walk up and down the carriage, baby is still screaming. As Daddy manoeuvres round the table he catches the eye of the mid twenties guy over his book. His eyes say ‘good luck’ Daddy looks back eyes saying ‘I’ll need it, its going to be one of those days’. Mummy starts a new chapter ‘How Many Naps Are Too Many for Baby’ and gets comfortable pen in hand ready to make notes. She will get this right.

***

The man in his mid twenties was me; this all happened – the actions and the speech not the background of the thoughts and characters – on the train this morning on my way to Manchester. The notes being written were the ones I was making on the couple as it was so human and so real I knew I would want to remember it. So real, it almost seems unreal.

I regaled this story to Alice when I got indoors with a nice cup of tea. ‘Simon you nosey sod’ Alice said laughing at me.

“It’s not nosey, its observational, and its research.” That’s my defence and I am sticking to it!

Judging A Book By Its Cover

Tonight was book group which as usual was lovely though sadly Kaylord had a bad cold. The book was ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ which we all agreed (bar ME – such a bloke tut) was fantastic, if a little too long and a little too clever for its own good sometimes e.g. when Ann Boleyn says to Jane Seymour ‘I hope you die in child birth’. I mean come on, isn’t that a little contrived? We loved it though; well you know I did as I went Tudor mad for a week or so. The venue was fabulous too, it was the Café in the Crypt at St Martin’s near Trafalgar Square and the food was lovely.

As we always do (bar poorly and her man) Muffintop, Fimmy and I all went to Borders (its open until 11 hallelujah) to get the next book (Cormac McCarthy ‘The Road’) which is where my little rant will begin after I saw this…



I cannot stand books with film covers. I don’t know where this small rage has started and built up and built up I just cannot stand them. The thing is I am not alone; we had been discussing ‘Chocolat’ after I was raving about the film to everyone, yet I haven’t read the book. Muffintop said ‘I nearly bought that once but it had the film cover on the front and I didn’t want Johnny Depp feeding whatserface Chocolate like it was his phallus in front of my face on the tube’. And it’s true we do care about what people think of what we are reading even subconsciously, more of that in a minute.

From a marketing perspective I can understand that people might want to be seen reading the latest movie but why with a horrid vile cover, they are always so glossy it’s sickly. But then it cant be working as people aren’t buying them like people would, as you can see from the picture they are half price, and this annoyed me even more, where as the original covered version wasn’t. That’s madness!

…Back to the idea of book covers on the tube. I randomly had this discussion when I was interviewing Brit & Alex, they had read ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ and I made a joke of bet people know I am a puff reading that on the tube with its golden swirly writing and bodices. It’s true though. I always look at what people are reading. I mean if I saw someone reading a Mills & Boon I would automatically start making assumptions about them (not necessarily bad ones – I have read a few, shush don’t tell anyone) or if I saw someone reading a mammoth book on war I would do the same.

I remember getting tutted at on the tube once by the lady sat next to me (who looked very much like she could do with reading what I was) as she had obviously been noseying at what was on my pages. I was currently reading Abbi Lee’s ‘Girl With A One Tracked Mind’ as I have been researching sex blogs, she must have thought I was a right pervert especially as the page I was on was quite, erm, to the point. She shouldn’t have been reading over my shoulder should she?

The same goes for my bookshelves too. I want fabulous covers that make everyone want to read the books I own, not the latest Hollywood star. I know authors feel the same in fact Stella Duffy did a blog about how important the shape of the key was on her cover and what images of London to use. I have bought books based on covers before, we all have. I have also not bought books for the same reason and quite possibly missed out on some gems.

People say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but sorry in the literary sense… frankly I do! Right, rant over!

Some Mothers Do Have Em

So my mother came down for the weekend this weekend and I have just dropped her back off at the station with my brother (7) and sister (9), to avoid the vile lows that I get after seeing them all and then knowing I wont see them for quite a while I have made sure that tonight I keep very busy. Sadly my freeview is broken, but my DVD is working so have an old favourite at the ready ‘Chocolate’ I love, love, love this movie. Mum brought down some Thornton’s yesterday so will be munching through those.

So what did we do this weekend? It started a little chaotically with Mum & Co catching an early train but trains being trains they got diverted via reading after a freight train over turned, a trip that should have had them arriving at 11am meant they actually got there at 1pm, which was the time they would have been here. I was secretly quite glad after waking up at 10am with a vile, vile, vile hangover (thank you Mr W) after getting in at 5am this morning absolutely off my face! I still had half the house to clean! I then randomly chose to not get the Northern Line and change to Paddington, but get the district from Wimbledon. I didn’t realise the district line was part closed so was late!

We headed to the National Portrait Gallery as Mum wanted the kids to get some culture so we did one of those ‘kid’s packs’ I don’t know who enjoyed it more; Seth and Miriam or Mum and me? Learned lots and found some new favourite paintings. Felt very cultured. Seth was brilliant with a map leading us around the place, is it bad that other than to go to the shop for something for a friend I have been to the National Gallery once in my nine years of London, its something I am going to do more of.

We went to China Town to see all the lanterns but with the wind of the night before they had all come down so let the kids try their first ever Dim Sum which they really loved. They are so much more adventurous than I was at there ages. Then Mum collapsed, we don’t know what exactly happened, one minute we were walking to Borders the next mum was face down on the floor with a very worried Miriam. We think she tripped on a car tyre it was really scary and we both felt for a few minutes it was going to be an ambulance job. Mum being Mum she simply dusted herself off and calmly carried on. So I can’t get my dramatic streak from her. The prospect of a book store was just the tonic and we sat in the kids section before being unable to resist the urge to shop ourselves and she made me buy a book. Right when I am on a book ban (the house is becoming a library) by Mr B! (It was ‘Darkmans’ by Nicola Barker and was only bought as my Mum wanted the book thief and was buy one get one half price!)

Went to the hotel, Mum had a rest, the kids read. Miriam is turning into the book worm that her elder brother and mother both were at that age. I went shopping, we reconvened and Mum finally came to inspect the flat and taste my home cooking. She liked the flat she liked the cooking. I got full approval, a rare feat from my mother. As we were walking back Miriam was whispering to Mum she wanted to ask me a question. Me and Mum are similar in the fact we think people shouldn’t be scared to ask questions. So she said ‘Simon will you and Mr B get married?’ She’s always been funny about that, telling Flo our cousin (aged 7) off for saying Mr B was my boyfriend. I said ‘yes we might do’ Seth came out with a corker ‘who would be the bride’ me and Mum couldn’t stop laughing all the way to the hotel.

I then came home and had my very own accident, after spring cleaning the flat from top to bottom for the royal visit I must have left some lemon crème in the bath or had one of my famous blackouts as I woke up in a contortionist’s position and now have the bruise below… Mum says I was trying to out do her. Most vexing I must say!

Sunday morning we met Mum (I had Mr B in tow) for the Premier Travel Inn’s buffet breakfast. Miriam finally hugged Mr B – he was so happy as she has been quite distant with him. Mum loved her camp Mother’s day card. I had bought her some books and an Alison Moyet CD. We then headed off to the London Dungeon. We were going to go for a Brazilian meal as Mum wanted to see Mr B in action talking the talk etc, but the lines were buggered so we couldn’t.

London Dungeon was great think Mum, Mr B and I enjoyed it more than the kids. Seth started crying at one point and got very scared, Miriam was fine until the Jack the Ripper part when it got a bit much. Seth started demanding to leave but as they had begged to go (and it costs a bloody lot) we dragged them through. Soon as he was out he said ‘that was brilliant’ kids eh?

Lovely Mother’s Day lunch in Little Italy, Seth devoured most of Mr B’s squid. The food was excellent and I recommend it to anyone, so many places can be ropey. Mum had originally stated she wanted to have a Knickerbocker Glory, but Miriam had pizza Bruchetta to start and a mammoth pizza for mains and we all had to finish those and Seth’s lasagne so it was a bit much. Then missed the train she wanted so made a mad dash to catch another. Now they have gone. Really miss them. Think Mum had a brilliant Mother’s Day though (have popped a picture of us both below), and if I am not mistaken may have had a tear in her eye as the train departed Euston.

Underwear Everywhere!

I never thought I would utter these words sadly I am going to. I have had enough of men in their underwear. No I am not off to be straight, I have just spent the last two days emerged in men’s underwear. Boxers, briefs, CK’s, funky Primark patterns, Y Fronts, jock straps. I am done with it. My eyes cannot take anymore of the items or their bulging contents. Ok, maybe a slight overstatement!

I have been researching, until my brain can no longer function, a load of pants! All in the name of the love of my job of course, and I haven’t actually been seeing all of this in flesh but through the joys of the internet. We are doing an underwear and swimwear special (which Mr B might be the over of so look out for it) and I have been looking into the fetishes of underwear (if anyone has a fetish for it please email me, people don’t seem to want to speak out) and of all the crazy underwear you can get be it designer or as I have found fabulously cheap and crazy in Primark, they do the most awesome patterned pants. Oh god it’s taking over my life.

So two days and I have some sort of a feature lined up… ‘Lucky Pants’. Do you have a pair of lucky pants? Do they work? Do you have pictures of you in them would you be prepared to be interviewed about them? Are you anti-pants? Do you have a phobia of underwear, there is one but its not got an official name yet, believe me its true I have been in the forms. I like the idea of ‘pantiphobia’ or maybe you could just stick with commando? If so seriously drop me a line as the more the merrier, I feel my eyes and mind are numb to it. But please, feel free to comment away.

Right I think I had better go and iron my pants… what? What’s wrong with that? I'll leave you with a little treat I found on my travels!

When We Are Old & Grey & Old & Gay

Old age seems to be following me around. I have had several conversations surrounding being older with in the last few weeks, one of which was whether my partner would put me out of my misery if I got Alzheimer's, that's not really relevant but if you want to know more read my blog. Anyway I digress, old age.

The first conversation I had was with my ex. He is in his mid to late thirties, and has just split up with another guy. We sat, got very drunk and he poured his heart out to me that he was going to be lonely forever, he wouldn't have any kids and no family and no life and no friends and would probably end up in a house with 20 cats and no social life. Dramatic I know, and possibly one of those drunken conversations you have after a split, but it made me think. Well before I was so drunk I'd forgotten the conversation… until a few days later.

Out in Soho with one of my 'younger' friends who considers me to be past it (I am just about to hit 26) and we were chatting away when a guy of around 50 came into the bar we were in, it is aimed at the younger trendy market, why was I there? So he walks in and there was almost a complete stand still of everyone he passed, almost jaws open as if to say 'why is he in here?' My 'younger' friend was one of them. I asked him why his surprise? 'Well men that old shouldn't be in places like this?' When I asked him where they should be he didn't have an answer, and when I asked him what he'll be doing at that age he replied 'oh I would kill myself, no social scene, and if you are single and with no family how could you bare it?' Again it was the same old story as I'd had with the ex.

The final conversation I had that lead to a light bulb going off in my head was with my Gran. She is 66, recently widowed and though obviously very sad she is a social butterfly. She's joined book groups (I think three is slightly excessive) and is part of U3A which is a self-help trust for people in 'the third age' who want to take part in social events and learn more life skills after retirement etc. She used to be a member of the Women's Institute but hasn't joined again. She told me of a gay man who wanted to join a local WI branch and sadly wasn't allowed as he was male, it makes sense but in the deepest countryside caused a bit of a stir. So the light bulb went off and I thought 'what will I have when I am that old?' It might also have something to do with watching Jam & Jerusalem and Calendar Girls in the space of a few days too.

In my old age I hope to have a husband (preferably my partner – you never know) and children, but what about a social outlet that isn't the gay scene in terms of bars and clubs? What if I get widowed, what if he gets widowed, and what if you don't get married and have children? You could join the U3A (I don't think I would be welcomed with open arms in a Working Men's Club, maybe I'm wrong) wouldn't it be great if we had something for Gay Men though? In London you have places such as the House of Homosexual Culture which is brilliant; it's aimed at anyone who wants to "explore the shared cultural heritage of lesbian and gay people through a programme of events, activities and salons" or fabulous monthly nights like Polari as organised by Paul Burston and Dom Agius. However if you are in the sticks there is nothing. I searched the web and couldn't find anything… if you have any joy let me know.

So if no one else is doing it I thought 'bugger it' I will. I have set up a myspace www.myspace.com/thegaymensinstitute and am working through the ideas of how to get something on a nationwide scale organised with no money and using my own time, but hey that's a small price to pay. I am looking for volunteers who might be interested in helping me kick it all off, and am building a website. Oh by the way Gay Men's Institute is a temporary title as I want something snappier, but bear with it. So if you have any thoughts, suggestions or queries go to the site and let me know. After all wouldn't it be wonderful if we had a network like this, it wouldn't be all Jam & Jerusalem, but it could be a bloody good laugh in our elderly years and a real support, or even in our younger years, hell I've joined.

P.S Can everyone fee very sorry for me I have a really horrid cold, least am using my time wisely lol.

Reading Writing & Reviewing

So today has been busy. For lots of reasons some of which I cannot divulge (the BIG meeting) but some I can (what will probably be just a dull blog hahaha). I have been reading like a maniac. I am very privileged to be someone who gets paid to do reviews of books, I love books anyway and so it’s not really a hardship. I do this for New Books Magazine, and free ones for Waterstones all good on the CV (fingers crossed another paid job in a very literary mag is coming soon) and like I said I like books.

The current read is Sallie Day’s ‘The Palace of Strange Girls’ which is happily finished and on the bedside table now. It is a really good read and though I can’t give you a copy of my review I will say it’s a very good read and would be a good addition to any bookshelf. Bookshelves… I so need to get some at the moment in my flat there are 4 piles of lots of books and another 6 boxes. I can’t resist. You know this. Mind you I have been very good on the book buying front of late. They are comparing The Palace of Strange Girls to Kate Atkinson’s ‘Behind the Scenes at the Museum’ I personally didn’t like that book, though I love all the authors others, so I would say its better.

One fabulous thing about the book was that every chapter starts with one of the fabulous old ‘I Spy’ book quotes, all from a beach copy, as the little girl Beth is obsessed with them. I had forgotten these, and used to love them as a kid. You cant get them now I have put a picture of the only one I could find on eBay on this blog! It brought back that (though the book wasn’t set in the 80’s its in the 50’s) ‘punch car’, ‘the registration plate game’ and various other holiday games from my childhood. Am having a very deep and nostalgic few days at the moment. Have been thinking about Bong a lot too!

Other than that and a big meeting I have done two things; writing and brainstorming! I have been writing ‘the book’ and so far it is going really well, I am its biggest critic and think it could be better but this is only draft one and the characters are coming along nicely. It isn’t hard work at the lap top so that’s a good sign. I have been trying to have breaks away and re-reads but at only chapter three maybe I will hold off and just write the darn thing – read later.

The other thing I have been brainstorming is ‘The Bent Book Group’. This hasn’t been given the official ‘go ahead’ green light but I am desperately trying to make my editor see why I want to do it, any good arguments are most welcomed, I need all the help I can get! I am thinking how to do something from a monthly mag. It is proving difficult, my thoughts are a forum on the Bent website and maybe a group on myspace and facebook where people and give their feedback, if any of you can think about this and how else it could work again suggestions welcomed.

I think first author would like to feature is the lovely Mr Paul Burston, and then the delightful Stella Duffy, we shall see. The idea is then to also have a running interview or piece on the author and why they write there favourite books etc, what I basically want is to be Mariella Frostrup on The Book Show, which would be my dream job. So a creative, if a little dull to read back I am sure, day!

Notebooks

Tonight I watched a film after a recommendation from Spanielle called ‘The Notebook’ and it’s really made me think. Without giving too much away and spoiling it for those of you who haven’t seen it the film has an Alzheimer’s theme which all of you will know I have very strong feelings about. (If you didn’t know check out an earlier blog called Mindless Thoughtless.)

I am now thinking more and more there is something bigger that I need to do to demonstrate how shocking both dementia and Alzheimer’s is and remind people of it. I really want to make a documentary but I am not sure how to go about it so if anyone out there has any contacts in the media/TV world who I could talk to or liaise with, or if any of you want to get involved please let me know. Please!

The film title ‘The Notebook’ says a lot too. How many notebooks do I have? I cannot begin to count; anyone who writes or is creative will know or tell you that carrying a notebook EVERYWHERE is essential. I have one in every room, yes even in the bog… I get some great ideas in the bath. I actually had to stop in the yoghurt section of the supermarket the other day and make some notes (getting some odd looks) as a toffee yoghurt made me think of some small plot for something. I also use them to keep memories or dreams in, like the random one I had last night about dating Kylie Minogue. It was a marriage of convenience.

Memories and notes are why I also keep this blog, when I started it I didn’t think anyone would read it and some people still don’t, but those of you who do mean a lot to me so thank you. It may be something my children want to read, it may help other people (like when Bong died or when I had my op ‘downstairs’), it may just make people smile or think, it is also very much there for me, I can look back on last year and think blimey I did that? It also puts things in perspective. Maybe one day when my memories are going or indeed I have gone someone will read this and those memories will come alive and so will part of me. Who knows?

My Tooting High Street

Did anyone else watch the brilliant documentary on Channel 4 tonight called ‘My Street’? I have to say I was gripped (I did have to watch it on Channel 4 +1, as I am addicted to the new Dawn Porter series, more about that in a blog soon) from the start until the finish.

It was part of the Cutting Edge series which I have to admit I don’t tend to watch for fear of them being to high brow for me, I think I will watch more in the future. The film maker Sue Bourne decided that after years of living on her street and having met no one she would go to every one of the 100+ houses and try and find out more about people.

A fair few people thought that she was simply being ‘nosey’ and in all honesty in London most people would feel like that. The ones who didn’t however were on such a wide spectrum of society it was fascinating. There were large families, families dealing with a father with cancer, a millionaire – the laziest millionaire who doesn’t live or look like a millionaire, a 80+ man who live don his own and had no visitors, some authors, a drug addict or two, some very crazy New Zealanders and a women who was very successful and single but not really happy with the latter. There was a very sad story of a lad who had Tourette’s syndrome and as the show went on the worse he got and sadly he died, alone, with no one looking after him, none of the neighbours new he was even ill.

The story was fascinating. What do we really know about our neighbours? Other than a baby crying upstairs and the fact I like the neighbours downstairs as little as the last ones I know nothing about the 4 other flats that I share a hallway with let alone the other 224 buildings and their inhabitants, and some of those building have multiple flats like mine. I didn’t even know that no one had been living in one of the flats for the last 4 months until I was talking to the agents, I may move up there!

What must my neighbours have picked up from me? They know I sort the post out as one of them once came to see if I had taken something, so they also think I am the thieving type. They know I am gay as most of them came into the flat when the police raided us all and Mr B and I were in our matching dressing gowns. They know I am a cat lover, she never shuts up meowing at the door when I am out; maybe they think I am a cat punisher? Oh dear. Really they know a little but not a lot and what happened to the good old Nescafe days where you could pop to the next flat and get a cup of sugar as you had just run out and the guy was fit on the next floor… and the bloody corner shop charges you an arm and a leg?

I could go and make little ‘hello’ cards and slip them under their doors and down some of the street, but I feel that’s incredibly gay and also they probably couldn’t give a toss. I remember when I first moved to London and I thought wherever I lived would be like Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City, only in the UK. Where I would meet a fabulous Mrs Madrigal and have my very own Mary Ann and meet my very own Michael Tolliver (though in the TV show I always fancied his Dr boyfriend more) …or something. Alas I suppose that life is never quite as good as fiction, though having said that with all the characters in Sue Bourne’s street it would make an amazing novel.

The Brits...

...were a good laugh, the afterward parties were not the best, I am not going to divulge any gossip as I am trying to be good like that (for today) I will simply leave you with a picture of the effects of the night upon Mr B...


Sleeping deeply drunken with his VIP tag on! He'll kill me for uploading that, oh well he he he!

Tudor Tastic

I am currently debating getting a much corseted dress and a crown. No really! I have been lost in a world of dank dark corridors, back stabbing, tight pants and ego’s… no I haven’t spent the last few days on the gay scene non stop actually ha, ha, ha. No I seem to have been lost in the early years of the 1500’s. Lost in a time that I am actually realising I am fairly obsessed with. Yes the Tudor Period.

It’s been restarted from the latest ‘book group’ book ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ by Philippa Gregory. It’s taken me a while to read, not because I haven’t been enjoying it or that it’s too complex, but because I didn’t want to finish it. (Don’t worry I have now sorted this out by ordering ‘The Boleyn Inheritance’, ‘The Virgin’s Lover’ and ‘The Constant Princess’ from http://www.readitswapit.com/ so I will still be getting my fix). It’s brilliant and I simply cannot wait for the movie now, think will have to treat my Aunty Alice on the day it comes out as am up in Manchester that day. See its becoming an obsession.

In fact so obsessed was I that I dragged (actually he wanted to go) Mr B to Hampton Court Palace on Sunday. It took forever to get there, thanks to the appalling bus replacement service but was so worth it. The weather was gorgeous. I love Hampton Court I have been almost yearly since I came to London. There is something quite magical about it. I think it’s the fact there is so much history, all the addictions by King William and King George and the fabulous gardens. I got lost in the maze and think I saw a flicker of disappointment cross Mr B’s face when I managed to get out.

I was only interested in the Tudor sections quite happily aimlessly wandering through the oldest part of the castle in my own little world. Oh and laughing mercilessly when a woman dressed in a costume from the Tudor period turned the corner in front of Mr B and made him jump and let out the smallest and campest of screams.

Apparently as I have since been told I have always been fascinated in that period. (I also really love the Victorian Period) I was chatting to my mother about it and she said ‘oh you always loved it, I always joked you were reincarnated from that period, bloody Hardwick Hall three times a summer, or the Tower of London, or any stately home or castle from that period and you were happy as a pig in shit’ god love my mum and how being so young she’s so cool… and crass! The ‘cool’ is debateable.

It has made me think though, what if my fascination with the period and the fact I get so involved in it means I may have been reincarnated from then? I don’t think I believe in it, but who can say, maybe I should get regressed? Do you have any periods that you find haunting? Do you think it is reincarnation? Right think will pop to the shops and get ‘The Tudors’ DVD.

Mindless Thoughtless

I didn’t tell you about going to Kent two weekends ago did I? I took Mr B to see my Great Uncle Derek and Great Aunty Pat in Maidstone. When you go and visit them its not like your normal trip to see family with a lovely catch up and lovely Sunday roast. We had a lovely Sunday roast and catch up but Derek wasn’t there, he is in a home, he has Alzheimer’s.

Great Uncle Derek is like a second Granddad to me. He is eleven years older than my Gran yet they had the closest bond, like me and my ten year old sister I guess. He spent so much time with us in my childhood and also made me unable to drink Whiskey but that is a very long story. We would go on walking holidays in the summer, him memorising Sherlock Homes tales to keep me entertained on the ten mile days of Offa’s Dyke or the Dales Way. He even carried on walking after he slipped and broke his wrist so he could tell me tales.

Now he sits in a chair chewing on plates, putting his cardigan on his head like a scarf, looking at you with unseeing eyes and saying ‘I miss my mummy’, a Mum that he doesn’t even know has passed away. He doesn’t even know that Bong has died. He is in his own little world and it’s heartbreaking, not for him, but for all of us that see him like that, all of those with the memories we ant share with him. There are some lovely people in the home, characters you would like to write about, yes the book is on the way. Gladys who thinks she is the Queen. Jean 1 who sings nursery rhymes and wants a cuddle, Jean 2 who likes crayons and yet wants to be sent to bed – she has to wear a crash helmet as she has tantrums and hits her head on doors. There’s Doris who screams ‘are you going to kill me?’, Bob who tells all the nurses they are sluts one moment and that he loves them the next. Several who just sit and stare. There’s two women who I really feel for. One has just got depression but cant live on her own for the danger that she does to herself and her guests, nothing wrong with her other than that and she sits in what is like a film set of madness. The other who has very early dementia and whose family flew off to New Zealand leaving her to sit read her newspapers and every so often glance at her future, what is to come.

The nurses are wonderful and they don’t get paid enough believe you me. They comfort, they cook, feed, and they clean. The thing is they don’t ‘know’ these people. Aunty Pat and I were discussing this, the families should do biographies on their relatives lives so that the nurses have more insight into who they were or what some of their ramblings might be. For example Uncle Derek says ‘bang, bang, bang and you drop them there’ he used to navigate where bombs were dropped in the war. To someone else that would mean nothing.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Happy Valentines Gay?

I always say every year like a true pessimist or negative thing ‘oh not bloody Valentines again’ I don’t think I like it. Until it arrives and suddenly (very like at Christmas) I get swept up by the marketing I hated so much and buy any heart shaped item I can lay my mitts on. Not this year though.

This year as Mr B was working ALL BLOODY DAY and I had a few interviews lined up for Bent we decided we would ignore Valentines Day until Sunday. When all we would do is buy a little something for each other, we would give each other cards on the day.

So imagine my surprise (if you can call it that in the inebriated state I was in) when I came home at 2am on Thursday morning, very no extremely, no ridiculously drunk, to find a my flat resembled something out of a Mills & Boon novel. Champagne on ice, several bouquets of flowers (actually I will add a picture) candles and a Storm pendant I have been dying to own for over a year! I think he was slightly disappointed when having gone to open and pour us a glass of bubbly each I was asleep on the bed fully dressed dribbling! What? It had been an impromptu night to Trannyshack with new pals Dan D and Michael T, I didn’t know.

So this today after being very ill in the morning, after interviewing the hilarious Clare Teal and doing some odds and sods in town, the heart fetish kicked in. He now has waiting for him heart shaped chocolates, two heart shaped mugs – we love a nice cuppa, a massive heart shaped card (no I hadn’t even got that until today after our pact, the traitor) a teddy carrying a big heart and his and his heart covered pants! I think that’s a job well done, maybe I can arrange our curry in heart shapes on the plates, or would that be going too far?

Zhooshy, Bonaroo, Dolly, Alamo, Ogle, Bona, Bungery… It’s All Polari

Last night I had a wonderful evening at the Green Carnation in Soho for a literary monthly event called ‘Polari’ organised by the fabulous Paul Burston (who I have finally said hello to for once hahaha) and Dom Agius.

It’s a great night to go to as each month a different author reads passages from their latest or chosen novel. Tonight was the wonderful Stella Duffy and her eleventh book is out this week called ‘The Room Of Lost Things’ and the parts she read were both touching, saddening, thought provoking and funny. In the flesh she was a lovely lady having a good old natter with everyone, a drink and a boogie too. You must check this book out; in fact you must check all of her books out so there.

Paul is a great host and does DJing with Dom, the tunes were a fabulous mix of 80’s to present day, I can’t think where else you would get Goldfrapps ‘A&E’, Pet Shop Boys ft Dusty Springfield, Sugababes ‘About You Now’, David Bowie’s ‘Let’s Dance’ and Destiny’s Child ‘Independent Women’ within the space of an hour.

That’s what’s so great about it its individuality. People are looking for something fresh on the Gay Scene and for people who like to lounge, mingle, network or if you are a book geek (I hold my hands up) or are organising the Bent Magazine Book Group (I hold my hands up again). There is also the chance to meet like minded people (I must say hello to ‘Madame’ who said ‘oh you’re myspace Simon’ in fact a few people did which felt lovely).

There were two things that summed the night up for me, the adverts tag line ‘come for the words, stay for music’ and Stella when she had finished reading said ‘its so nice to come somewhere that’s not just about drink and dancing but about the arts foremost’ and then Paul said ‘so lets get on with the drink and dancing’ and we all did.

A wonderful night, a huge congrats and stroke of genius to all involved in particular The Green Carnation, Paul Burston, Dom Agius and Stella Duffy.

The next one is March the 10th be there or be square!

A Weekend of Ups & Downs

Not writing too much as feeling a bit sad and shitty. You’ll understand why in a mo.

The Ups
- Saw The Feeling at GAY
- Mr B cornering Sophie Ellis Bextor and talking Brazilian worship of her album
- Fabulous time with Giorgia on Saturday in Ann Summers
- Seeing The Married Ex at one of my friends birthdays and him randomly being there
- Catching up with some of the Panto Boys
- Cloverfield, I thought it was absolutely amazing, Mr B didn’t.

The Downs
- Rowing with Mr B on Saturday night
- Rowing with Mr B all day Sunday

We never row and now he has gone to work and though we have made up now its just so sad that the only day we actually get together is Sunday and we have rowed (over visas, weddings, movies, where to eat – basic stress) and had no quality time together. What a poop weekend.

At least am off to see Ms McLarnon today, a good injection of time with a Pop Princess will cheer me up in my dullest hours, I’ll make sure I get a camp pic with her lol and add it later when I upload this!

Back & Bloody Busy

I arrived back in London. I had missed it. I grabbed a Starbucks, something so American and yet so London to me, and then I got on the Northern Line. I hate the Northern Line and people always find it funny that I have chosen to live on it. They don’t call it the misery line for nothing and indeed it was a misery as some bugger slammed into me and I was left with coffee all over my trousers and before I had to do an interview as well.

I was interviewing Deepest Blue whose first album had three of my favourite songs on it. They have been away for a while working on solo projects and now they are back. They were brilliant and they got me very drunk, what more could you want in an interview? We were at Bar Chocolate with lots of chocolate cocktails; you must go if you have chocoholic tendencies like I do.

Home for a swift shower and change and then I was back out to meet my sister for the opening of the new Nokia store and their new project Meet London ‘a unique exhibition that brings together the creative talent of four high profile Londoners representing film, music, sport and art to produce a series of one-off, intimate portraits that capture London in 2008’. It was a really good event though we didn’t see the Meet London exhibition. I did see Beverley Knight though and was too shy to say hello, this is one of my major flaws I get really shy suddenly for no reason.

I did the same when I went to the next party (my sister had to go home, her boots were too tight and high) with Mr Moon. It was the Gaydar Radio’s 6th Birthday Party at Lo-Profile and as I was going in the lovely Mr Burston was coming out and shock horror, I didn’t say hello just smiled in some weird way. He must have thought what a random odd bod. I didn’t go in to the party in the end as they had started to charge, I didn’t wanna be a prick and get my press pass out so we went to GAY Bar by which time after chocolate cocktails and champers I was bloody mullered. I came home and seemed to have sobered up and here I am, am feeling slightly ropey now so think I need to go to bed. Night!

Stepping Back In Time

Today my Gran and I went to Eyam, I don’t know if you have heard of it but it is one of the most beautiful and historical little villages in Derbyshire. It was also one of the only places apart from London to be hit by the Black Plague.

It was somewhere we had been when I was a child, Gran Bong and I, and it has always held a special place in my mind. It fascinates me that from a parcel of clothes dangerous and killing bacteria was warmed by a fire and then one by one the villagers started to die.

What I find most touching is the fact that the entire village cut itself off from everyone so that even though it was killing them it would never kill anyone past the ‘boundary stones’. Everywhere you go there are plaques reminding you of the sites and deaths that would have been witnessed there, and even though it was a stunningly beautiful day today you can still feel a hint of the past in the air.

It’s made me start to think as to what could be a new book idea… I know I know I have so many of them but never take them further. Well I’ve a feeling this one I think is going to stick, time will tell I guess as I also have a really complex one that has come to mind after Sundays events. I haven’t written about Sunday, I will when I get back. You cant blame me for getting caught up in a small town, where we ate in a haunted pub, that has seen so much history. Inspirational.

The Social Whirl of Matlock

I am back up north having a break in Matlock with my Gran and its been a complete social whirlwind on day one. I nearly missed the train as St Pancras International has completely changed again and it’s a bit of a maze, a stunning one though.

I arrived and Gran seemed really pleased to see me which always makes you feel nice, she had bought me the campest Christmas presents. A glittery jewelled dustpan and brush, some Spice Girl books and a book on writing, she knows her eldest grandson so well. She seems to be coping as well as someone can who has been so recently widowed. Busy would be the word I would use for her lifestyle. Incredibly busy maybe too busy.

Caz came round with Alfie. We had a fabulous soup with amazing savoury scones that I must get the recipe for, oh out pops the middle aged Simon again. Alfie is hilarious he naturally asked where Mr B was consistently, he is a massive fan. He also wanted to play football for about three hours.

We have just gotten back from a lovely evening with some of Gran’s oldest friends. The legends that are Bernie and John who used to live next door to Gran and Bong and now live five houses down on the new road. They are hilarious and love a drink. I wont go into the details of the whole evening I will just go with some classic Bernie quotes… now remember she is 63.

On her husbands first child meeting their children ‘he wet the bed for weeks and one night he came down with his brothers and said Mummy I will live with you if you and Daddy split up and he will live with Daddy. I thought bloody hell we’ve ruined the poor little bastards lives’.

On me having kids in the future ‘oh fuck that Simon, get a dog’.

On gay men ‘I just love them, I lived on Old Compton Street for a while, best nights of my fucking life’.

When Gran was drunk and talking rubbish ‘in the nicest way Dot, shut the fuck up’.

Now that is a gay icon, and shows you that you can have fun in your sixties a time I was originally not sure I was looking forward to. Thank god for people like Bernie.

On Chesil Beach

It was book group tonight. The book in question was Ian McEwan’s ‘On Chesil Beach’, a book I have had to read today as I was trudging through ‘The Instance of The Fingerpost’ for bloody ages. I have done the unthinkable and quit the book 300 pages in but as I still had 400 to go and wanted to do anything BUT read I just shelved it.

I love, love, loved this book. I thought it was superb. I know people have moaned about the length of the book but books don’t have to be a certain length do they? Do we now have to hire people at publishers who only let books that are over 1000 pages long be published or accepted, I think not.

What stuck out from the book for me was the whole was sex was perceived back then. The book is set in the late 50’s/early 60’s. Its on the wedding night of a couple who are in love but have no idea of what happens when you have sex and is a tale of the emotional journey they go through, from excitement to fear, to shock and horror. I won’t give anything away.

I mean look at us now. Humans on the whole be you gay, straight, bi, whatever. Sex is everywhere; you only need to go to the back of many gay magazines and call a number and sex is there. Open your computer and surf the net and sex can be found so easily then too. So I really felt for these people. Not because they couldn’t have sex before marriage, mind you me and Mr B were there before we officially started dating, but the naivety of it all, it must be terrifying.

The venue was ‘The Mermaids Tail’ a new fish and chip restaurant in Leicester Square that looks tacky as sin when you walk past but is actually really nice and does great fish and chips and brilliant mushy peas. You can have a deep fried Mars Bar for pudding too I didn’t go that far. The book brought up some great debates, we are much concerned that Kaylord is now following the book ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus’ like it’s the bible but that’s another story. Next book group book is The Other Boleyn Girl, maybe we will eat in The Tower Of London.

Reunions

It’s been a big week for reunions this week. Yesterday saw me catching up with Miss Curtis after a ridiculous 9 months. We met up in town yesterday and it was like we had never been apart and ended up in some very funny (well we thought they were funny) photos of us both being crazy Britney’s.

After seeing Miss Curtis I then was reunited with some old Milkround people at the delight that is Chancery Lane Station, it seemed really, really odd being back there and seeing people and knowing that I am not a part of their daily work routine, the lucky buggers. I was meeting Muffintop as we were off to see Aviv Geffin at Shepherds Bush Hall. I have never been there but it’s a really nice venue. Its well away from everywhere else in Shepard’s Bush, we actually went to the wrong three venues first.

It looks like a house from the outside but once you are in it’s like a massive old ballroom. Aviv was brilliant he sounds a mix of Stereophonics , Placebo, Robbie and Maroon 5 which sounds odd but its brilliant. He is in exile from his country of origin Israel for the political views he has on Israel’s freedom and the fact he was there when the president was shot, a president whose views he backs 100%. The music is brilliant and you should really check him out.

Randomly I was reunited with one of the PR guys I deal with at Bent. He sorted all of Afrika, Afrika out for me and has now promised me he will get me seats near Madonna when she goes. We went to the party after where I met the fabulous Leisa and Kate. Randomly Aviv is managed by the same people as Atomic Kitten who I was a huge fan of in my ‘gay youth’. So now I have wangled some tickets to their reunion gig on Saturday.

Today has been a lovely reunion with Mr Moon who I used to go out with 8 years ago. It had been so long that until he reminded me why we had split up; the memory is going in my old age. We had a really nice meal in Balan’s a very long and drunken reunion all in all. So as you can see the whole week has been full of reunions. Oh bar one which has been cancelled, no Panto reunion tomorrow sadly.