Highs and lows, lows and highs

Dinner at Doig's was lovely.  Delicious Mexican food, a cheers for Mary Doige and a selection of her favourite songs on in the background.  Here we are having a lovely time and eating Greg's Cointreau and cardamom crème brulees:

I realise that the major problem with taking photos for my blog is that I'm never actually in any of them.  Here my presence is represented by my four cans of red stripe near the candles!  After we went to the 2Brewers for a quick boogie on what turned out to be an exceptionally busy night for the place.  Sunday was pretty quiet due to substantial hangovers but I got the opportunity to go to Henry's office which is right on the Thames and his desk is on the 19th floor:

Quite the view isn't it!  After admiring the view we went to the new, and very good, Golden Day which we all really enjoyed (get the cumin beef) but thought was a bit pricey.  After we also went to a new gelato place in Soho called Gelupo.  Doig had been invited there with three friends to eat for free and boy did we ever!  Lucky it was free really because £6 seems a bit steep for an ice cream to me.  Admittedly a very good one mind.  spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the sunshine, through Trafalgar Square, down the Mall, through St James' Park.  Really lovely.  Had the treatiest of all treats in the evening - Foxley was in town and I met him and his boyfriend Ethan for dinner.  Thought he was over on business but turns out they're on holiday - as we all know coming to London is the only sensible use of holiday time (although admittedly they were going to Paris too).  We topped and tailed the evening with drinks in the Blue Bar which was weird since not 3 hours previously I'd said to Faye 'considering I've never been at a place in my life where I would consider myself rich I've spent an inordinate amount of time in the Blue Bar'.  Hard not to really:

We had dinner at Cecconis with their friend Lauren who freelances for the New Yorker.  I tried not to explode with jealousy throughout dinner.  Tanquery Martinis before the meal, two bottles of champagne after - I was THOROUGHLY treated by the guys and had the loveliest evening.

I'd arranged to stay at Deborah's house that night and began making my (very drunken) way there in the small hours.  Managed to get as far as Clapham Junction then realised there was no night bus to Earlsfield!  Which meant I walked for about 50 minutes to get to Deborah's flat.  Guess I shouldn't have bothered in the end since she wouldn't let me in ... she got out of bed and answered the door bell but only to tell me to 'fuck off' and so I spent ANOTHER night sleeping under a bush somewhere.  SERIOUSLY disappointing.  I will not be speaking to her again.  I will also try to spend less of my life like a homeless person.  A homeless person wearing Valentino anyway.  

Some days are sent to test you

Quite an eventful day yesterday.  Most of which I would not care to endure again.  It's the lovely Clare's birthday barbecue today and I thought since I was going into town I may as well make full use of the weekend and go in on Friday and catch up with other people.  On Wednesday I spoke to Brit and arranged to meet her in East London after she was done with work.  First I popped down to Clapham to see Deb for a coffee and to stock up on weed.  Brit sent me a text saying 'Really hungover, not going to do anything fun tonight' while I was having coffee and I thought I might be better off staying at Deb's since I was already there.  But Deb had work to do and I was keen to see Brit so I jumped on the tube.  If ONLY I had stayed ... things went downhill very quickly.

Got off the tube at Liverpool Street Station and was immediately leaped on by the police's drug sniffer dog.  Goodbye weed, goodbye £50 (a weeks income for me) and hello official caution.  Luckily possession is barely an offence and the police were really nice but I was definitely feeling a bit shell shocked and extremely annoyed about throwing £50 away.  Somehow in the process I lost the stylus to my phone ... yes my phone has a stylus, no its not from 1996 ... which I'd managed to hold onto for over a year and I'm SO annoyed to have lost it.  A couple of phone calls to Brit resulted in no reply and I ended up drowning my sorrows, solo, in a bar for an hour and a half.  Eventually I realised she wasn't going to show up so phoned around looking for SOMEONE I could share my misery with.  Stephen was out and up for a drink or two so I hot-footed it to central London.  One drink lead to another, which lead to being in Heaven at 3am with only the barest grasp of what my name was.

Somehow we got separated and Stephen ended up getting back to his flat long before I did.  I called him when I got out of Heaven and he was already home, told me to ring his phone when I got to his place.  Not only did I ring his phone, I also rang his doorbell for about 15 minutes and banged so hard on his window with my stylus-less phone that I thought I was either going to break it or wake the entire street.  All to no avail.  He was not to be roused.  Since I couldn't get anywhere useful on a night bus within three hours I laid my weary head down under a bush behind Doig's bins and tried to get to sleep.  Couple more bouts of banging on the window later it was 5:30 and I went to get the first tube home.

I wish I could've been one of the people who walked into McDonalds in Baker Street, in their suits at 6am to find me grumpily eating a Sausage Egg McMuffin as pine needles fell out of my hair and into my food.

Managed to get home and crashed into bed.  So I was arrested, abandoned and forgotten about all in one night and now I've missed Clare's barbecue ... which is totally unfair on her.  Worst thing is I'm probably going to have to go back into town - Stephen is hosting a dinner this evening to raise money for leukaemia research as it recently killed his mother (leukaemia that is, not the research).  Not really the sort of thing I should let bitter resentment stand in the way of attending!

Car bootin'

Helped out Deborah selling her stuff at a Car Boot sale on Sunday.  Well, I say helped ... I helped set up and pack up but the whole sale was so quiet that one person was enough to keep an eye on all her stuff and deal with any customers.  Had a lovely day though - sat in the back of her car, did a crossword, read the Economist and got stoned to all bejesus.  There was some sort of magical combination of the warmth, sunshine, sun dappled car park, huge amounts of weed and the overall slow pace of commerce that made the whole day really pleasant.  The highlight for me was the opportunity to play a real life game of Where's Wally (Waldo to yankees):

Where's Wally?

There he is!

Good that we had such a nice day because the whole thing was basically an exercise in insanity.  Deb was supposed to be having a big clear out of her wardrobe and selling what she could at the car boot.  As I explained to her what we had undertaken had nothing to do with the activity of 'clearing out your wardrobe'.  In order to qualify as a clear-out I said that she'd have to make more of a dent in her wardrobe than selling 20-30 items of clothing (out of 3 wardrobes and 5 rails or clothes) and 10 pairs of shoes (out of a staggering 225 pairs.  That's not a typo ... I meant to write 'two hundred and twenty-five').  What she had instead undertaken was causing a lot of inconveniences for herself and earning less than minimum wage at a badly paid job.  All of the difficulties of paying for the pitch, organising when I was available, packing up her stuff, getting a rail to hang clothes on, driving to the sale, setting up, packing up, driving home and unpacking the car ... and all to make £20.  So she didn't make any money, didn't have a successful sale and nor did she clear out her wardrobe.  So basically it was a day worthy of a Kafka novel and I congratulate her for that!

The shot that broke the camel's back

Went into town on Friday for dinner at Henry's to celebrate the presence in London of his tutor from UPenn, the very Miss Jennifer Siegal - historian, friend of the gays and all round dinner party legend.  Also had the pleasure of finally getting to know Amy's new(ish) man, Neil, he's taking the photo below so will be spared blushes.  Although Amy wasn't.  Neil got to hear any sordid detail of her history we could dredge up.  She was less than impressed - our tongues were loosened by booze and her anger was inflamed by it.  More of which later.  Had a lovely time, ate delicious food and drank enough alcohol to wipe out a small Russian village (and them's folks is hardy).  Think our alcohol consumption has long passed 'out of control'.  There was a review in one of the TV guides about the Australian version of Come Dine with Me, which they showed here last week.  The review was all 'of course one of the major differences between the UK and Australia is the amount of alcohol some hostesses feel the need to provide' and went on to list a HUGE amount of alcohol (one of the items was about 60 shots of vodka ... for four people) that one of the women had provided at her night.  Anywho, when I first read it I seriously thought 'hmmmm I'd probably get a bit more wine than that'.  Here we all are enjoying the light buzz of alcohol:

And here's Richard providing a useful representation of the state we [not including Jenny obv!] were all in by the end of the night:

Charming no?  I'm seriously thinking about giving up drinking.  Normally once suitably sloshed all the gays slope off to a local club and have a dance, although on this occasion we thought it better if Richard didn't leave the house.  Obviously I normally end up making a fool of myself and consequently feel shame-faced and guilty the next day.  This time I did nothing untoward and still woke up feel shameful and embarrassed the next day.  I might be too old now.  Not saying I'm not going to toast my friends successes from now on, but I do think I should have more diversity in my life than seeking oblivion on a weekend.  And its not exactly cheap.  Doig ended up going home with a guy who robbed him of his phone, £150 in cash, a bottle of vodka and his dignity when exiting his house in the a.m.  If I felt shameful I can't imagine how Doig was feeling.  I ended the night by having a long intense chat with Henry.  Seemed all very important and relevant at the time but retrospectively it was at least 30% drunken rambling and I'm sure we both said things we'd rather not have said, or at least found better ways to say them.

So all in all I am thinking alcohol = evil.

Canterbury

Over the weekend my aunt had her retirement/house warming/birthday party in Faversham in Kent.  Since mum is one of those people who thinks that driving for more than 45 minutes is an epic undertaking and it's at least 2 hours away she decided we would spend the night in the area the day before and make a weekend of it.  So mum and her sister Sue ('Titch' to the family .... a nickname so ingrained I didn't even know she was called Sue until I was 17) and I spent the day in Canterbury on Saturday before going over to Faversham on the Sunday.  I guess Canterbury is pretty famous in a historic way - the Tales, Beckett, the Cathedral (oldest in the country, started in 597AD), the Archbishop of etc ... guess they're all extensions of a similar theme.  Turns out it is STUNNINGLY pretty and also extremely popular with tourists.  It seemed like there were a similar number of tourists that Oxford gets in a place about a third of its size, but seriously though:

How pretty!?!?  A lot of the town looked like that and even the newer bits weren't too ugly.  We had a nice lunch, walked around the shops and visited the Cathedral:

What can I say really?  

Voyeurism

Went into town yesterday so see Cicely and go to the Voyeurism exhibition at Tate Modern.  Seeing Cicely was brilliant but the exhibition was rubbish.  Went into town about midday and met Cicely at Brittany's office in the Lloyd's Building.  I'm always excited to go there and I think its a testament to its great design that 30 years on it's still strikingly modern and there were still a large number of people in the street taking photos of it:

LOVE IT!

Cicely and I then went to the Tate and into the exhibition.  Was a bit of a ham fisted collection of photos by artists, of celebrities and social document.  Some striking images - especially a picture of Andy Warhol lifting up his shirt to reveal some truly terrifying operation scars following being shot - but mostly we just sort of thought HUNH?:

We then wandered down the South Bank in the sunshine, through Trafalgar Square and into Soho where we met Gayden and Brittney for drinks.  We were both really annoyed that we'd spent £10 on seeing Voyeurism at the Tate when it would've cost the same to go see Ernesto Neto at the Hayward:

Ah well.  Lovely day though.  They all went off for dinner and I went home - eating out is definitely not within my financial grasp at the moment.

Far and few, far and few

Although it may seem like I've given up blogging again my apparent silence is actually a reflection of how infrequently I can afford to do things these days.  In all fairness I did go to the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy last Tuesday but since mum bought a print I'm waiting until the print arrives so I can illustrate the post!  This weekend just gone Susannah was leaving London, Deborah just got back from Italy and Cicley was visiting from the States so I had plenty of reasons to loosen my purse strings and head into town.

Went in on Thursday and spent the evening getting stoned with Deborah.  The highlight of which was discussing her psychic powers (of which she is sure and I am nothing but sceptical) which culminated in her telling me she could hear voices.  I think hearing voices is a much better summary of Deborah's mental state than any notions of soothsaying.  Friday I bummed around London in the sunshine reading my book (Stone's Fall by Iain Pears ... its ok) and waiting to meet up with Bean so we could head to Susannah's leaving party.  Ended up in a pub in East Putney drinking berry mojitos in blazing sunshine.  The party was really fun, mostly because I drank in excess of half a bottle of vodka, and I was glad to find out that Susannah was only going as far as York - not back to San Francisco like I was expecting.  Meet some great people too including a barrister who offered to pass my CV around a bit so hopefully that will lead somewhere.

Stayed at Bean's flat on Friday night ready for the arrival of Cicely the following morning.  Woke up with a stinking hangover and practically ran to the nearby Asian supermarket for ramen and gyoza.  Started to feel a bit more human in time for Cicley's arrival and we all spent the rest of the day drinking wine at Borough Market on another gloriously sunny day.  In the evening we all went for Vietnamese food on the Kingsland Road:

Then went on to the Book Store.  New club which plays Electro Swing music ... think Big Band with a dance beat.  Had a really good time and was extremely amused by Brittany who had one or two tequila shots too many:

Sunday meant another hangover, another emergency dose of gyoza and another sunny day.  In spite of my intention to spend the day lying on a sofa and groaning I was tempted down to Balham to see Clare's new house, which she moved into on Friday and spent the day having beers and barbeque in the back garden:

Most importantly I got to spend time with Wilbur:

Excuse me while I explode from a cuteness overload.

Hmmmmm

Maybe those asylum seekers are better off where they are since at least one of the national papers here is openly homophobic.  Seems senseless to be offended by the Daily Express since its such a moronic publication but I can't help but be upset that it must represent a significant portion of the British public.

Hurrah!

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2010/jul/07/gay-asylum-seekers-rights-deportation

I couldn't be any happier about this.  I urge you to spend a few short minutes googling the shit that happens to people in Iran who are accused of being gays.  Its horrifying.  I like to think of England now as a big gay goose snuggling all its little gay chicks under protective wings (made of crumpets and tea obv.).  I wish I could get a job as a one man welcome wagon at Heathrow for the persecuted homos fleeing here.  I'd welcome them with a G&T, a picture of the Queen and a queue jump ticket for Heaven.  Its all you need really.

What's that sound? It's a barrel being scraped

An Escort (seen above) on Gaydar sent me a message saying hello and I sent one back being all 'you're wasting your time, I'm completely broke'.  He wrote back saying 'ummm, I was just saying hi' and now I feel guilty.  Shamed by an escort!!!! Its a whole new low in my life.

Of drugs and gays

Was in London over the weekend having a lovely time. Weather continues to be scorching and while I'm enjoying my first forays into summer clothing (previous years have seen me in winter clothes, just less of them) I'm beginning to stare wistfully at my cashmere jumpers in their cocoons. First reason for going into town was Laura's birthday. Met up with Brittany and Molly in the Light Bar in Shoreditch and then on to East Village with a quick beer or two in Favela Chic on the way. Also had the 'pleasure' of the company of a couple of extremely posh people from St Andrews that I thought I'd seen the last of but due to Brittany's pleasant appearance an inability to say 'no' such people infrequently appear for a few hours. Unfortunately I was horribly drunk the whole evening so my recollection is hazy at best but one of them definitely told a story that involved being at Boris Johnson's table during the opening of the Beijing Olympics. The mind boggles. My expectations of finding a meritocracy SOMEWHERE in the world were dealt another blow. Eventually it was mooted that cocaine should be acquired and I explained to Brittany that if we spent the rest of the evening with coked up posh boys I'd kill myself. So we left. Which is just as well because the bouncer caught them with their cocaine and the police were called. Since one of the people concerned was a lawyer and a licence was at stake money exchanged hands and nothing came of it in the end but it was a part of the evening I was certainly glad to avoid.

Everything else about the bar hopping was great though - Laura is wonderful, her boyfriend Jack equally so, I don't think I've ever spent an unpleasant second with either of them and Friday was no exception. Plus Bills showed up totally unexpectedly and there was much kissing, tequila drinking and catching up to be done. After escaping the threat of tedious cocaine chat we went to find Brittany's boyfriend and Sonny Phil in a somewhat less salubrious but definitely more appropriate venue. Appropriate because I was so drunk. I definitely remember throwing up in my mouth at one point. Nice.

Eventually we went back to Brittany's new flat on Boundary Street. Small but perfectly formed and a good deal cleaner than the Brick Lane flat. Anthony was in and up. Stayed up all night talking, arguing, listening to music and having a nice time. Created a strange feeling the following day - because I'd stopped drinking and sobered up around 5am I forgot that I'd been EXTREMELY drunk and it only occurred to me halfway through Saturday that I was horribly hungover. Thought I was just tired and hot. Once I realised I was hungover I could do something about it - namely eat lots of chips and drink lots of soda. Ended Friday on a sour note of frustrated affection and will not be making the same mistakes again. Was a reminder to grow up and focus my attentions in appropriate places.

Saturday was gay pride at which I was expecting to march with the Albert Kennedy Trust. Since I hadn't been to sleep I was up very early and took the opportunity to head over to Henry's flat so I could drop off my bag and not have it on my back all day. Spent the morning changing clothes and drinking diet coke in a bid to stave off sleep then we headed out. Walked up and down Baker Street looking for the AKT peeps but they were not in evidence. Checked out all the cute boys in small shorts who were, unfortunately, all hired by companies to advertise their wares (both the companies and their own) and I'm pretty sure there wasn't a homo amongst them. We waited for 45 minutes for the parade to start and to hopefully spot AKT as they came past but due to no sleep, stinking (but as yet unrealised) hangover, BLAZING heat and sunshine, and the small matter of the waistband of my micro shorts digging into my sore back we headed off the Soho to check out the action there.

Wandered around for a bit and decamped to Nandos for chicken, chips and to enjoy the unlimited soda. Highlight of the day for me was that Andi Peters (former TV presenter turned producer - certainly recognisable but a stretch to call him famous) was eating in Nandos. He was sat downstairs and his party was the only party on that floor. As an extra precaution his booth was barricaded by a line of chairs, which I can only assume they were hoping would provide him with an extra few seconds of escape time as he was stampeded by his adoring public. This was in marked contrast to Rupert Everett (former Hollywood movie star, friend of Donatella Versace and MORE than a little bit famous) who was eating at a restaurant 2 doors down sat out on the street with nothing more than his lunch as a barricade. Also saw Ivan Massow. If that isn't a reason to post a picture of him I don't know what is. Must ask him out one of these days.

After embarrassing ourselves by eating half the restaurant (seriously, the waitress visibly judged us and couldn't hide her disgust) we went to Trafalgar Square to party a little bit. Not much of a party to be had so we headed home. Was SO happy to get home - back was killing me, feet were killing me, it was 30 degrees and my hangover had only been alleviated so much. Was asleep by 10pm. Unfortunately I didn't take my camera so no pictures.

Had mixed feelings about the whole day really. The general reaction to my friends about gay pride was 'what's the point of that these days? Gays have it all' and there was a distinct lack of energy to the whole event. Since this comes at a time on increased homophobia in London I was slightly unsettled by the whole thing. Coverage in the press today reflects that - no headlines, no major coverage, just a bit of 'oh by the way, this happened'. Shame really. Plus Madrid Pride was the same weekend so all the gym bunnies were busy showing the Madrilenos what they've got. I guess if I'd slept and not been so hungover I'd have had a more favourable impression over all.

It's been too long!

I've just read some of my old posts and its been a nice reminder of how a blog functions as a diary as well as a public forum. So I might get stuck in again. Today is not a good day though - I got up, went to the job centre, went to the gym, ate chicken and tried not to expire from boredom. I'm sure I'll be doing things again soon though