cut n paste
New Hair cut. New pumped up, punched up mentality. New view of tings ‘n’ stuff.
Same ole shit to deal with.
The weekend was fantastic, thanks for asking. Friday was spent in the company of the parents of our dear friend Whitney - a lovely lovely couple en route from Kansas to their Mediterranean Cruise.
They came bearing two types of Barbecue Sauce (which weighed a friggin’ tonne, I can tell you), and we reciprocated by showing them Bucking ham Palace (the stateroom self-guided tour is actually very good, though I don’t think the place is a patch on Peterhof Palace in St Petersburg, which makes the word Opulent seem, somehow, insufficient.
Still, i guess that explains why the Russians don’t have a Royal Family any more, and the Brits do.
Friday night we all sat down to see Billy Elliott (my 2nd time, D’s third), and by the end, up until we were standing on the pavement packing them into a black cab, we were a foursome of bawling snivelling, emotional wrecks. I’d forgotten how good the show actually is - the cast album doesn’t do it justice, and when you hear the Male Voice Choir of Miners singing “we will al go together when we go,” the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Straight.
Saturday was chilled, sitting in the garden in glorious sunshine (hence the red forehead in the above), and then off up to town for a pre not-a-wedding dinner with our friends Simon and John, who tie the Knot on Sep 27th. More on that anon.
I swear, every gay in London was out. There were the two straight looking footie fans on the first train we got, whose conversation, when I finally zoned into it, was peppered with enough references to “The Vauxhall” for me to twig that straight looking was all they were.
The two skinheads on the second train and the male-female couple where he kept referring to “Gerald” (and, really, outside of 30’s melodramae, has there ever been heterosexual called Gerald?), til it was obvious that this male-female couple were actually fag and hag.
The two sets of holding-hands boys (so very cute) we passed on the Strand and in Covent Garden en route to Loch Fyne brought the tally to about 11 since we’d left home, and that was before we hit the gays-and-lesbians a go-go tables at the restaurant.
Honestly, if I was a paranoid Hetero Daily Mail Reader, I’d really believe that They’ve taken over.
But I’m not. But they have 