Cool, I'm Claire!
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That was then and this is now.
In my local CD emporium at lunchtime today I couldn’t help but notice the outrageous amount of Ibiza compilations on sale. The Ibiza bubble was supposed to ‘burst’ a few years ago but apparently still hasn’t, in fact the whole thing seems to be bigger than ever. Is it now a phenomenon?
In 1989 I was a regular at Dave Dorrels ‘Love’ at the Wag Club. Acid house was over and a purer version of the sound we call ‘house’ was beginning to emerge (by purer I mean a more European version of that crispy sound invented in a big black gay disco in Chicago). Anyway, the Wag and Charlie Chester decided to take a planeload of clubbers to the island of Ibiza for two weeks of parties. Though Ibiza already had the huge clubs it didn’t yet have the reputation it was to gain a few years later. For £299 you got a flight, an apartment and a club pass into the various one nighters that they were arranging. Not bad. The clubs were either in San Antonio or Ibiza Town or on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere so the organisers helpfully put us all into apartments nowhere near any of these places in a family orientated resort called Santa Eulalia. We had to hire scooters to get around, which, on unlit Ibizan roads, proved to be like ‘Death Race 2000’ every night. Needless to say the clubs were fantastic. Huge hangers where all drinks cost £10 (whisky, beer, water, whatever), where dance floors turned into swimming pools, where the sun rose over terraces far too early and where Sean Ryder could be seen most nights collapsed in a corner covered in piss and vomit. 808 State, The Farm and A Man Called Adam all played live that week (The Beloved were there begging to be let near a stage but thankfully were always refused: professional Ibizans, who needs ‘em). Channel Four followed us around and made a documentary that they only (appropriately) showed at 4am on Sunday mornings. I’ve never been back to Ibiza since and I won’t forget the utter exhaustion I felt when I got home. It wasn't a holiday if you need a holiday when you get back from holiday.

I never go out on a school night.
Last night was great. I walked from Victoria to Chinatown via Whitehall to meet Darren at 6pm. We had a delicious meal at Won Kei (non air-conditioned but we got to sit under a wall fan). Then we stood outside Comptons enjoying their ‘all drinks £1.50’ promotion while taking the piss out of all the queens (I’m sure they took the piss out of us too so it all balances out). We met up with some friends and toddled over to the theatre at 9.30pm. Kiki and Herb were ace. Very funny banter in between the songs about how they’ve been together since the 40’s and are responsible for the careers of most of the great recording artists of the 20th century. Their versions of songs by Kate Bush, Radiohead, Wu Tang Clan and Bonnie Tyler were very poignant and gaudy and bloody funny. And yes, the theatre was air-conditioned, twas bliss. We got home at midnight and realised we hadn’t set the video for ‘Six Feet Under’. Doh! Good job it’s repeated on Wednesday.

Arriving for breakfast naked not recommended.
A friend wrote to me today about his weekend trip to Moscow to see an ‘ex’. This ‘ex’ is now a psycho Russian rent boy/man (lets call him Igor). It all makes a picnic in an East London Park sound a bit boring.

“I arrived late on Thursday night but didn't tell him I was arriving till Friday. We met on Friday for lunch. He started drinking vodka straight away. We were in quite a nice café so I decided not to drink because I had a feeling it was gonna get messy. Igor started an argument with another diner so we basically had to leave. Next we met an American friend of his, which was a huge relief for me. We went to another café where Igor abused the waiters, casting aspersions about their sexual orientation and even asked one of them for a date. Needless to say we were asked to leave. Dinner that night was at a smart Chinese restaurant. The American was still with us and Igor was really getting on my tits by this time, I thought if he ate some food he would settle down a bit. But he didn’t. The restaurant was lovely, very expensive. Igor started abusing the staff once again - I thought ‘here we go again' so halfway through the meal I left, walked out, and left them to it.
At 5.30 the next morning Igor turns up at my hotel with another dodgy Russian and a bottle of whisky. They start drinking so I get dressed and head out to do some early morning sightseeing. I return about 11am hoping he would be sleeping it off. I get to my room and the door is open and the police are there. Igor has gone crazy in the hotel. He’s drunk and out of his mind and doesn't even know where he is. The hotel security guard takes me aside and explains that at 9am Igor had walked into the hotel restaurant stark naked. This was of course, after he had shit himself in the lift on the way down. He had ‘it’ all over his feet, the carpet was covered, absolutely disgusting. I got rid of the police with a bit of money and made him take a shower and put him to bed. I collected my stuff whilst he was asleep and went straight to the airport and bought a one way ticket home. So all in all I had a great weekend, very interesting. What did you do?”

Pictures of men in tight white pants here.
Vote for your favourite! Add your own picture! What fun!

Off to see Kiki and Herb tonight at the Soho Theatre.
Please please please please please let it be air-conditioned.

The summer heat made 'em all quite cranky

After a curry picnic at the Mela

Last night we watched two French films 'The Closet' and 'Savage Nights'. 'The Closet' was a light comedy with lovely performances but not much soul and 'Savage Nights' is a beautiful tale of love and the horrors it can cause.
Speaking of our Gallic cousins, we'll be in Paris for a long weekend in two weeks. Darrens birthday present from me. Staying here and travelling first class on the Eurostar. As most Parisians escape the city in August there will just be me and Darren and a couple of million other tourists in town that weekend. Anyone wanna join us for dinner at Chartier?

Off to Walthamstow Mela this afternoon for some nice Asian grub.

Reflecting upon yesterdays post about life in London, I realised I hadn't included enough 'cool' stuff that I do. The last thing I want is for someone to read this and decide that London is a dump where opportunities for fun abound but no one can be arsed to actually do any of it (which, 90% of the time, I can't).
I should tell you about the number of groovy clubs for poofs that now play punk rock tunes, our favourite being Duckie. About the great markets in Camden, Brick Lane and Greenwich where you can buy stuff from past decades. And the fantastic restaurants like Won Kei in Chinatown, the vegetarian curry place in Chapel Market Islington, the pie and mash shops of the East End and the 24 hour jewish bagel joint on Brick Lane, where, for less than a fiver, you can pig-out big time (quantity, not quality, is our mantra). I should also tell you about the shops that only exist in our fair city like Magma books, Bond, the Algerian Coffee Stores in Soho, Forbidden Planet (I know they have other branches in the UK but ours is the best), Liberty and the really big Woolworths in Walthamstow.
There are the parks where we wander (Londons lungs) like Greenwich, St James and Soho Square and the streets that make us think of olde London towne. I go to these places infrequently but I do go.
Then there's the people. 10 million gorgeous people. All using the same train as me when I travel by underground.
And I can buy the NME on tuesday evening (instead of waiting till Thursday morning as I used to in Northumberland).
When I speak to my parents on the telephone on Monday mornings and they ask me what I got up to at the weekend and I reply "not much" they always say the same thing: "I don't know why you bother living in London". I do.

London Calling
Apart from the obvious reason (work), why do I live in London? My reasons for staying in the city that infuriates me (yet I remain devoted to) are many and varied.

1. It’s Englands Capital and I fell in love with it when my junior school brought us here for a week in 1975.
I saw Jesus Christ Superstar at the theatre that week. We were up in the gods (cheap seats) which I thought must be the most expensive as we got free mini-binoculars to use.

2. Though I never do, I know I can go the movies at midnight, buy a kebab at 5am, shop for cd’s and books till at least 11pm, get a bus to the end of my street at ALL hours, see Hollywood A-list stars on stage in world class theatres, buy yellow peppers and mangoes at most corner shops, swim naked at numerous swimming pools, have condoms delivered to my door…… The fact that I CAN do these things is what makes all the difference to me.

3. Heathrow, Gatwick, Stansted and Luton. Cheap flights from these airports have enabled me to have a lot of fun abroad.

4. When it all goes wrong (the summer heat, tube strikes, muggings, filth and hatred) the one thing I gain is that potent feeling that I’m alive and living in one big, motherfucking hell-hole of a city. Which for a simple country boy like myself is quite an achievement.

Go Billy!

With a face like that, Billy the mongrel just had to be famous one day. He's just been named Britain's Ugliest Dog because of his dumb expression, vampire-like fangs and dog-rough coat. The 10-year-old whippet cross only has two teeth left and six-inch long hairs growing out of his ears. His owner, Marilyn, got him as a stray eight years ago and loves Billy to bits but even she says he "looks like an extra from a Dracula film". So it was no surprise when his appearance drew gasps from the audience at a dog "beauty" contest in London. Billy's got the last laugh though - he's been signed by an animal modelling agency. Hurrah! It's so British to cheer for the under-dog.

I come from a mining town in Northumberland called Ashington. I left school at 16 and went down the pit just like my Dad. I worked there for three years until the start of the 1984 miners strike. I resigned at the start of the strike and moved to London. Never looked back. However, I am extremely proud of my roots and my home town and want to tell you about something special.

The Ashington Art Group began in 1934 and was an entirely new concept for the miners of the town who were asked to join (this was a community with no history of art appreciation). It started as an evening class held once a week by the Workers Education Association. They were sent an art tutor from King’s College, Newcastle upon Tyne, who was faced with the problem of introducing the subject of art to men who had no knowledge of painting at all, who had never even seen an original work of art, and who spent their entire working life underground. The tutor encouraged the men to paint from their own experiences, and once a week he would set them a subject to work on at home and then bring to class for criticism. This proved to be very difficult at first as the men had to learn to lay open feelings and memories normally held strictly in check. The idea of painting gradually became an obsession with the men, and they painted on any materials they could find - canvas, wood, cardboard and paper. The paintings were not intended for exhibition or sale, they were simply regarded as a venture in self-expression. Gradually their work began to arouse interest and was exhibited in public as an art educational model.

The idea that art need not be the exclusive pass-time of the privileged shone through the work of the Ashington Group, and it became the model for similar ventures in other parts of the country. The Ashington Group, however, has remained unique among amateur art groups. The desire to illustrate their hard life (below and above ground) brought an intensity to their art rarely found in other amateur work. The Ashington paintings record an important chapter in social and industrial history. Their views on work, home and community make their art a lasting testament to self-help and a permanent example both to artists and to society at large.
See their work here.

I've seen that face before (libertango)
On sunday morning we sat down to watch Paul Bartels masterpiece 'Eating Raoul' (1982) on dvd. Tis a black comedy about sexual desire, canibalism and the morally stagnant LA of the 80's. Anyway, throughout the movie I was really bugged about the guy who played the sexy Chicano burgler/meat dealer, Robert Beltran. I knew his face but from where I knew not. A quick search on IMDB revealed that he was Chokotay in Voyager! Mystery solved. Then it happened again. A woman dressed in fur at a swingers party near the end of the movie triggered my memory but again I couldn't place her. Turned out to be Edie McClurg. Edie played the school secretary in 'Ferris Buellers Day Off' (a movie I watched at least once a month in the 80's). She also did a great turn as a car rental agent in 'Trains, Planes and Automobiles'.
Also watched Mike Leigh's 'Career Girls'. Cringingly excellent.

A very pleasant surprise.
Saturday was nice. Got up early, read some blogs, cut the grass, watched 'Amelie' (very twee and sweet), went to the Sea Breeze Fish Bar in Walthamstow market for a greasy lunch with Darren and Lucio, had a nap, cut my hair, had a bath and then drove to Duckie in South London with Darren, Lucio and Lucios latest boy toy.
As I've mentioned before Duckie is our favourite club. The only place to hear the theme from 'Batman' and 'My Perfect Cousin' by the Undertones and 'Stop In The Name Of Love' by the Supremes and countless other kitsch oddities. The dj's, The Readers Wifes, now have their own website, here it is. Anyway, Amy Lame, came on stage at midnight to announce tonights performers, Kiki and Herb! After a sharp intake of breath from me and Darren (we have tickets to see Kiki and Herbs full length theatre show next week) we thanked our lucky stars that we had forced ourselves to go out tonight instead of just festering in front of the telly or computer. The performers at Duckie can be hit and miss (mostly miss) so we never check out who's on before we leave the house. What a very pleasant surprise.
Kiki and Herb did four numbers in their own drunken, bad lounge act style. Space Oddity by Bowie, Fox in the Snow by Belle and Sebastian, Hardcore by Pulp and Running up that Hill by Kate Bush. Most folk at the club seemed to know who they were and gave them a fantastic reception but there were a few 'new faces' around looking a bit bemused thinking 'what is this shit?'. Can't wait for the full theatrical event now. They're on here.
I drove the drunks home at 3am but not before we stocked up on salmon and cream cheese bagels at the 24 hour jewish bakery on Brick Lane. The sun was coming up when we went to bed.

What is the key to success?
Drive that nagging voice out of your head that says you suck. It is wrong.
Also, don't constantly measure yourself against other people's accomplishments. Do what's best for you and bingo! you're a success!

My current top ten coasters for the 2002 riding season:
(all photo's taken by me)

1. GE Force - Holiday World, Germany.
Went straight to number 1 a few months ago. Incredible airtime and comfort for a steel coaster.
2. Gwazi - Busch Gardens. Tampa, Florida.
A wooden twister that brings tears to the eyes.
3. Grand National - Blackpool.
50 years old and still packing a punch. One of the best racers I've ever been on.
4. Oblivion - Alton Towers.
Terrifying.
5. Hulk - Islands of Adventure, Florida.
HUGE green monster of a ride with immense speed AND an incredible launched lift hill.
6. Manum XL200 - Cedar Point, Ohio.
My old number 1. Still awesome fun.
7. Millenium Force - Cedar Point, Ohio.
Over 300 ft tall and nearly 100mph. Blackouts not un-heard of.
8. Raging Bull - Six Flags Great America, Illinois.
Smooth operator. Like sitting in an armchair doing 80 mph.
9. Shivering Timbers - Michigans Adventure, Michigan.
The best out and back in the world. You will spend more time out of your seat than in it.
10.The Beast - Paramount Kings Island, Ohio.
A long and fast trip through the woods. We couldn't get enough and kept going round and round and.............

Today the new Kazakh Ambassador to London presented his credentials to the Queen. I, being quite important in these sort of circles, got to attend. Queeny didn't show up so Prince Charles presided instead. Prince Edward poked his nose in for a few minutes too. The kazakhs arrived in horse drawn carriages with a full police escort. The Queen doesn't usually say much at these events but Prince Charles wouldn't shut up. And he laughed like a drain at his own jokes. Afterwards we retired to a local hotel (luckily the Royals remained at the Palace) for a buffet lunch where I was forced to make small talk with boring businessmen. Chit chat has never been my forte. Top tucker though.

Tomorrow I'm meeting with Madonna to discuss schools for her kids. Not really.

When I was 15 and in my final year year at school (yeah, I left at 16!) I bunked off with a mate and we took the bus into Newcastle. We lived in Ashington which is a mining town about 20 miles north of Newcastle. It's a dump. Anyway, the reason we played hooky that day was because Bow Wow Wow were playing the University that night and we were going to try and buy a ticket and get someone to sign us into the students union to see the gig. In those days you had to be 18 years old and a student to gain entry to concerts and we did not look 18 so it was all a huge gamble. We hung around the doors of the venue looking for kind faced students (oxymoron) to sign us in so we could buy the tickets. Needless to say none of the duffel coat wearing bastards would do it so we hung around sulking and debating whether to go home or not.
Then our luck changed. The roadies and equipment for Bow Wow Wow arrived in a big lorry and we got to watch as they started to unload (it's amazing the things you find fascinating at 15). They saw us watching and started to give us stuff to carry in, BINGO! we were inside. We stayed and watched the band sound check and then just sat with the roadies till the gig started. We got to see Bow Wow Wow without paying or begging/bribing any students to sign us in. And the band tore the place apart in their Viv Westwood pirate outfits. Oh it was magical.
The next day at school was soooooooooo annoying. No one believed our story. This great day out, hob-nobbing with the punk glitterati, couldn't be shared with anyone because they DIDN'T WANT to believe that it had happened to us. We were two spotty, unpopular weirdo's and cool stuff just doesn't happen to losers like that. The moral of this story is: the camera never lies so don't leave home without one. Oh, and students are twats.

We got to the theatre early last night so we were standing around outside people watching. A big black limo with blacked out windows pulls up to the curb and a leggy beauty teeters out onto the pavement in very high heels. She walks towards us smiling. I say “ hi doll!” and Darren says “good luck tonight”, she says “thanks” and pulls her huge mouth into a gorgeous grin and disappears through the stage door. We swooned (as anyone would in the presence of an icon).
Sandra walked on stage to enormous cheers. Her monologues were very political and the events last September in NYC seemed to be the springboard for a lot of her rants. No one escaped her vitriol; Bush, the firemen and cops, Al Queda and the ‘new’ New Yorkers and their post 9/11 consciousness. But it was all done in that wonderful Bernhard fashion where she almost persuades you that her view of the world is the only view worth having. She did the whole show in jeans and a t-shirt (except for a couple of numbers she sang in her bra with her jeans loosened revealing her skimpy panties). No costume changes this time. Her talent for conjuring up a certain time and place is still outstanding as shown in a great song about driving across America to San Francisco in 1968. Highlight of the night? Without a doubt, her version of ‘Little Red Corvette’ which sent the crowd wild. Come back soon Sandra, we miss you.

To celebrate the 'new' hot weather we sat outside and bbq'd some sausages and ate them under our new gazebo.
So sophistimacated we are!

Bet your bottom dollar, come what may!
Fucking hell, 2 sunny days in a row! Sorry to be so coarse but this summer so far has been such a non-event (weather wise) that the sight of the sun 2 days in a row has shocked me.
Yesterday me and Darren drove to Greenwich for the day. We parked the car on Blackheath and walked through Greenwich Park down to the High Street. We never knew how beautiful that park is. The good weather was responsible for lots of top looking totty playing footy with their tops off and for this we were grateful. If you are into retro stuff (especially 50's, 60's and 70's ephemera) then Greenwich is the place to go. The markets there are excellent, and so much cheaper than Camden or Brick Lane. We didn't buy anything but so easily could have. I'm mad for 70's furniture so it was pretty heartbreaking to walk around ooooooohing and aaaaaaaahing at various pieces knowing that there was no room at the inn for them. This shop was fantastic.
We had a traditional cockney lunch at Goddards Pie and Mash shop before we strolled over to see the Cutty Sark. Which is a big old ship.
We topped the day off by going to see 'Minority Report' at Greenwich Cinema. Darren loved it but I thought it was just OK. I was bored in the middle but liked the way the movie looked. All blue hues and very bright white light. I was pleased to see that GAP and Ben and Jerrys will still be around in 60 years time.

Sandra Bernhard tonight at Shepherds Bush Empire. Hurrah!

the Beatles were number one when I was born
And so Friday arrives. I've been very tired this week, not sleeping at all well. I got out of the bath last night after a quick soak and Darren kindly pointed out that "you look like death". Nice.
'Scrubs' started last night on channel 4 and was good. We saw a few episodes while we were in Florida earlier this year and they were better than last nights edition so it must improve as it rolls on. 'Six Feet Under' remains the TV highlight of the week but 'Big Brother' is proving to be very addictive. Tim must die.
I've been busy making some new crispy electronica sounds this week and they should be broadcastable quite soon. In the meantime don't forget about my earlier masterpieces which are still pulling in the punters here.

Happiness arrives in many forms but is fleeting and must be squeezed dry when it's in your hands. We all slip in and out of periods of gloom/ joy/ depression/ anxiety/ jealousy/ bliss/ ecstasy/ sorrow........all feelings associated with the living. Grateful to be breathing in 2002, thank you Mum!

NewsAlert!
Panic gripped the streets of London this morning when patches of sky took on an unusual blue colour and a ball of fire appeared above the city. The phenomenon, known as 'The Sun' and commonly found in Mediterranean countries, unleashed a terrifying heat and brightness upon the capital, causing many pedestrians to take off their hats and scarves, while motorists were able to turn both their headlights and wipers off. Tony Blair urged people to be calm and return to work as normal stating: "We've seen this sort of thing before but it never lasts." There are forecasts that 'The Sun' could be seen throughout the weekend but a spokesman for No.10 said, "I wouldn't hold my breath".
(Reuters, London)

my daddy, my daddy!
despite a taste for sick foreign horror films and vintage 70's porn 'the railway children' remains one of my favourite movies. when i was a wee lad in newcastle i would watch it whenever it was on tv (which seemed to be every few months back then). remember the scary landslide? or the russian writer 'mummy' takes care of? what about the bit where they collect birthday gifts for perks (bernard cribbens) and he then refuses them? and what about that bit where they save the life of a cross country runner (who surely must have been a poof). or the bit where they are watching the train go past their house one morning and everyone on board is waving newspapers at them? oh, i'm filling up just thinking about it. watch the trailer here and tell me i'm not the only 30 something who wanted to be jenny agutter when he was 12 years old.

this afternoon i rode my bike along the river lea. it was a gorgeous afternoon, the river was high, swans were swanning about looking very graceful, grown men were flying kites and remote control airplanes, david bowie was singing tracks from 'heathen' to me. all was right with the little piece of my world for an hour or two. i was suffering from cabin fever following yesterdays festivities and needed to get out and breathe in that lovely london air. this morning i downloaded the kruder and dorfmeister sessions which i think will probably be my cd of the week. gonna watch 'amelie' tonight.

150,000 motherfucking fags in a field.
yesterday was mardi gras. me and darren spent the day with rob. we all got pissed, had a laugh, spent a fortune, walked for miles, watched some great bands (and some shit ones), ogled some 'lookers' and tut tutted at some mingers. top day out.
the day didn't start well as the local council refused to let the proceedings start at 1pm as the site was too muddy. they were worried about access for emergency vehicles (understandably). finally, at 3pm (2 hours late) we were granted entrance. our friend lucio had given up by this time and gone home as he was only going to spend a few hours at mardi gras because his 'special friend' was arriving from leeds at 5pm. at least he got a tenner back for his ticket from a tout as he left.
the site was enormous this year, much bigger than the previous years in finsbury park. it was still filled with all the usual stuff though, just more spaced out (but not as spaced out as most of the crazy fags in the dance tents). the bars were only serving three types of alcohol; a lager, a sweet vodka alcopop concoction or a glass of wine. all drinks were three quid, same price as last year (no inflation!). the fun fair was huge and had some very up-to-date spin 'n' spews and this year there was even a rollercoaster! it was a smaller version of the spinning wild mouse on brighton pier. needless to say we didn't ride any of them. i'm nearly 40 you know.
the market place had all the usual stalls selling rubber and leather stuff and, needless to say, we didn't buy anything. it was nice to see all the 'do-gooder' community groups represented (the gay and lesbian crack cocaine group caught my attention) but, needless to say, we didn't join any of them.
the best looking fellas of the day were around the XXL tent and the teddy bears picnic bar. though there were some stunnas playing volleyball and 5 a side soccer. the yeah yeah yeahs and the cooper temple clause played the popstars stage in the afternoon and were great. westlife and A1 and a host of other kiddy-pop stars played the main stage and were shite (though a huge crowd of G.A.Y. poofs thought otherwise). there was ballroom and line dancing (always good for a laugh), a blessing tent (nice to walk past and shout "they won't last six weeks!"), numerous vendors selling identikit food and lots of other 'gay' stuff that i can't remember now.
i always enjoy mardi gras and yesterday was no different. the time went so quick and before we knew it we were in the mosh pit for the finale of the day, SUEDE! they did a fantastic greatest hits show that had thousands singing along to 'trash' and 'she's in fashion'. most excellent. twas all over at 10pm (very civilised). we walked most of the way home, bought some hagen dazs ice cream and collapsed onto our sofa happy and all gayed up.

boom boom!
i went to buy some camouflage trousers today but I couldn't find any.

a friend of dorothy is a friend indeed
i just had a meeting at work with a dwarf. he's quite important in the business circles of west yorkshire and was a jolly nice fellow. for years dwarves have scared me and certain scenes in the wizard of oz were always unwatchable for me. we chatted about the GDP of kazakhstan and other boring stuff and then went our separate ways. i wasn't at all scared of him and enjoyed his company. i feel very grown up now and have decided to buy some cheddar on the way home as i have been terrified of cheese since i was a nipper at school when mrs evans, the evil dinner lady, forced me to eat cheese pie which made me throw up. i should be jumping out of planes by next week.

i wish i'd written this. a classic, and my sentiments exactly. like they say in blogland USA "neohomo, you rock!"

"The morning was spent between violent laughter and violent shuddering as John and I scanned the personals at gaymuscle.org. Trite, banal, deluded, stereotypical... Words fail me as I try to describe this site. Here are the majority of gay men's ideal gay men, young and old, pecs pumping, and idiots one and all.

My favorites aren't the 'cute' gay men who look like bright-eyed elves fresh from making magic cookies in a hollow oak tree. Rather, my favorites are the 'masculine' gay men whose pictures show them looking tough, humorless, emotionless, just as they know a real man should. Some don't even have on the passé cowboy hats and Levis, those uniforms of a previous generation's masculine gays. Instead they're shown looking oily and sober, hair wet presumably from gym sweat, which is this generation's cowboy hat. All of this is supposed to make them appear masculine, but instead they look frightened, terrified that one might realize that, for all the macho pseudo-heterosexual bullshit, they are in actuality gay, fags who like having sex with men. Just like women and magic elves."

happy birthday mum!

there’s a lot of bitching going on out there in blog land (worldwide) about the various gay pride festivities taking place this summer. it seems that a lot of young men are a bit disillusioned about what the event should signify and even whether they should be ‘proud’ at all. i, for one, have never recovered from that immense feeling of deliverance (or freedom or liberation, call it what you like) upon wandering into my first gay pride festival and witnessing hundreds of thousands of people ‘like me’. for the first 20 years of my life I thought I was the only one with this ‘affliction’ so to see so many other ‘sick’ people in one place did my heart good. a lot of peoples complaints recently have been about how they are embarrassed about being perceived as a bit freaky because of all the freaky people doing freaky things on floats while marching. some people would rather the floats were filled with gay jocks in abercrombie and fitch clothes doing ‘straight’ things such as………… (insert your own example here, I can’t actually think of any). can someone tell me why we would want straight onlookers to see this and think “ why, look at that, they’re just like us”. and why would we want to be like them anyway? weird. it seems to me that our strength is in our difference. surely on this one day of the year we can celebrate this. last year at london mardi gras i peered into the ‘trade’ club marquee and was amazed to see 2000 men off their tits on animal tranquillisers dancing to ear bleeding techno music. most of them were topless, the heat was oppressive, the air smelled of poppers, the strobes were blinding and it looked fantastic (i must add that though I have been to trade twice in it’s ten year history, it really is not my cup of tea). this was a vision that would fulfil middle englands idea of what a sick bunch of individuals we all are. hurrah! so, if you are off to any pride celebrations soon have fun and if you are feeling a bit ‘gay ashamed’ at the moment then at least get out there and celebrate your shame.

they really are too good to ignore. and all mine! do you hear? ALL MINE!

shall i be lee 'scratch' perry or the dub professor? this little beauty is awesome. turn the bass up and pretend you are at the rainbow in 1976 to see the clash.

bought tickets to see kiki and herb at the soho theatre in a couple of weeks. if you haven't got yours yet you really need to get your skates on.

since i got up this morning i seem to have been on auto pilot. got up, got dressed, drove my motorbike to work, sat at my desk, ate some bagels, stared at my computer, drove my motorbike home and now currently staring at another computer. i've made it through the day without actually thinking. spooky.

you know that model sophie dahl? well, i had her brother, chick pea dhal, round for dinner last night.

clean shirts for work hanging in the bedroom

i've sulked for most of the day because darren shouted 'shit' quite loud near the sausages in the local supermarket this morning. the same local supermarket that once caused a friend to comment "it's like shopping in poland in the 1970's".

this is priceless and funny as fuck. someone has released an album called "shut up little man!" that documents the screaming fights between two drunken old guys living on welfare in a san francisco apartment (as heard and recorded by their next door neighbor). if you want to see what they look like, go to the unofficial "shut up little man!" website where there is all sorts of great raymond and peter documentation. it's hard to find the "shut up little man!" cd, but you can get it at the official "shut up little man!" website.

listen to ray talking nasty.

know your rights

a recent complaint by e-mail to 'pret a manger' regarding the lack of tuna in their french bread sandwich has resulted in ten quids worth of vouchers landing on my desk. result. see, it pays to be a moany git.

a group of gay turkish bears are causing a storm by organising a trip to the annual turkish wrestling championships in the turkish town of edirne. the wrestlers wear leather trousers and cover themselves in olive oil and stick their hands down each pants in order to 'get a grip'. the beastly authorities are trying to ban the bears from attending the event. all turkish men look gay to me anyway because they insist on growing those thick 1970's moustaches. if turkey are desperate to join the european union then they need to pull their human rights finger out. nice picture and story here.


turkish bears are here.

happy 75th birthday to you!

our friend tom from zurich is coming to stay with us this friday night. his sister is getting married on saturday and he has been summoned. last weekend he was at a colleauges wedding in the alsace region of france and the weekend before at another wedding in kent. sheesh, breeders! he must be spending a fortune on gifts and flights. ever since four weddings and a funeral came out it's been de rigeur to have a poof at your wedding and as tom has a bit of taste for champagne he's only too happy to oblige. "to the happy couple!".

i'm very excited about this. opens july 5th.

these bones are extremely phallic. are they not?

i remember that when i was at school my local lunchtime chippy used to do a chip roll for 10p if you couldn't afford 30p for a trayfull with a wooden fork. it also sold single ciggies for 5p. i didn't smoke. 50p used to get you a tray of chips 'n' gravy and a mars bar. i liked to nibble the chocolate off the top and sides of the mars. then i would roll the caramel off the top with my tongue leaving the mousse type part for last. happy days. i never bought a drink. i used to put my mouth under the cold tap in the boys toilet when i got back to school. you had to be careful doing this as some pricks thought it quite funny to boot folk up the arse while they were having a drink thereby smashing their front teeth. i made friends with the best fighter in the school (paul duff) and always went for a drink at the same time as him. oddly enough my dad broke paul duffs nose when he was sixteen. he came to see me one night and was wearing a full face hairy monkey mask when he knocked on the door (no, i have no idea why either). when my dad answered the door paul jumped up and down grunting (i think 'tarzan: legend of greystoke' was a popular movie at the time). my dad got such a fright that he lashed out at the 'monkey' and caught him bang in the middle of his face. he took paul to hospital then home to explain to his parents. pauls dad said "serves the stupid git right". my stock at school eased up a notch once the story got out. hurrah!

fuck! i've stopped smoking but now i have to stop eating chips too!

"GENEVA - There will be an emergency debate Tuesday at the World Health Organization on whether potato chips and french fries cause cancer.
The debate will centre on new studies that suggest potato chips and fries and certain types of bread may be carcinogenic. A WHO official has drawn attention to the debate, saying this isn't "just another food scare."
One study done in Sweden has shown that some starch-based foods contain acrylamide, which is used to purify water and to produce plastics and certain dyes. The study used animal experiments that suggested acrylamide is carcinogenic, and the danger of getting cancer with high levels taken over long periods of time.
The Swedish study says deep-fried and oven-baked potatoes are the most dangerous."

sour grapes

moby has stated that poor sales of his new album are down to his fans being more 'computer literate' than, let's say, britneys. he reckons a huge portion of his fanbase have downloaded his album instead of buying it. he says that weezer and pearl jam suffer this way too (strange that their recent output has been less than sensational too). he doesn't think the poor sales are because the album is crap. i do. well, it's not crap i suppose. it's certainly not as good as that last album and it's way better than what came before that one. but it's all a little bland, a bit samey, lazy sounding. get ya finger out pin-head!

its been an 'on then off' type of love affair since 1980. i bought a vespa pk 50 when i was 16. i sprayed it gold and joined my local scooter club in northumberland. that summer, we went on scooter rallys to scarborough, arbroath and north wales. thats a long way on a 50cc. i was never big on the mod thing (parkas, mirrors on the bike etc) and i didn't even like the music at the 'do's' that much (though i loved early ska and dub). i felt more affinity with 'scooter boys' rather than mods (buzz cuts, skinheads, flat tops, ma1 flying jackets, 1960's faded levi's, dr martin slip on's. i fell in love with someone new every week!) i kept that bike for a year till i was 17 then came across a px 125 in a mates coal shed. it was his dads in the 70's and was just gathering dust. he sold it to me for 50 quid and i pushed it the local bike garage hoping they could get it going. though the garage was run by scooter hating hairy bikers they did a grand job on the px. it kept me mobile for the next 2 years. happy days. fast forward 10 years and i've left 'oop north' and live in london and bought a brand new px 200 from r agius' shop on the edgeware road. that was totalled in an accident after a year so i bought another. i kept that for a year then had a mid life crisis (even though i was only 30!) and got into big bikes (proper motorbikes, some would say, but i wouldn't). anyway, i've been toying with the idea of getting another vespa. i see heaps of them when i drive to work in the morning and i get jealous. even an ugly fuck like me can look reasonably cool on a vespa.

sleepy now. been a long day. took some old garden fencing over to melinda (who works with darren) in south london. the traffic was shocking. she fed us chicken and salad which was great. we sat in her garden in the sun and ate and chatted and then ate more (she served fresh strawberries with cornish ice cream for desert, delish). me and darren then had to drive from lewisham to vauxhall to meet our friend rob at the afternoon club 'rocktronica' at dukes. we sat in the beer garden and talked about getting old. we're all looking forward to it. the dj played satellite of love by lou reed which proved how old we were as we all knew the words. oh dear. there was talk of buying retirement homes in british seaside towns. on the way home we called in at the 24hr bagel joint in brick lane for supper. just watched the osbournes and jackass on mtv (how very 'young' of me) and now off to bed. stupid weekend is over now. stupid job. stupid monday.

ECCE HOMO
these pictures just blew me away. utterly brilliant. twelve photographs of Jesus that upset the pope, and were banned by the european parliament. Ecce Homo is the most publicised swedish photography exhibition of the century. it consists of twelve pictures of Jesus in the company of homosexuals, and is inspired by biblical themes by artists such as Michelangelo, Doré and Caravaggio. look and be awed.

just got back from seeing spiderman. twas good for a popcorn movie. bruce campbell had a cameo in it. i thought spidermans first attempt at a 'disguise' was very funny. i used to have some pyjamas just like that.
oh, the gasman? forget it. i have.

the gas man is coming today to do the annual inspection on our boiler. images flashing through my mind of a handsome, rugged workman in very little denim shorts (well, it's quite muggy today) bending over to get some tools out of his box and waving his sweet, pert bum in the air..............when, in fact, it will be a 59 year old, chain smoking (yes! i know! and he works with gas!!!), greasy haired, pot bellied, ugly, dungaree wearing, father of eight from essex. never mind, as long as our gas appliances are safe, thats the main thing. isn't it?

aiden shaws answer to an interviewer who asked him why he never lets the man in his literature be a hero:

Are we talking about the same man who:
Abuses babies
Rapes old ladies
Promotes smoking, one of the biggest killers of his fellow man
Burn fossil fuels that erode our atmosphere
Tears down rainforests
Pollutes seas
Allows animals to become extinct
Gets children to work for pennies so we can have cheaper trainers
Who homogenize every culture he touches, until the world is bland.
Shall I go on? The list is endless. Man does not deserve to become the victor. Neither does he deserve respect. He barely deserves pity.

the sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you

did you know that the inspiration for the beatles 'dear prudence' was mia farrows sister prudence? while the beatles were in india at the maharishis yogi retreat they came across prudence farrow who was also staying there. she was a bit of a loner and had hibernated in order to 'reach god quicker'. fool. anyway, lennon wrote dear prudence for her to try and coax her out. "dear prudence, won't you come out to play?". she didn't so they came back to england and released the white album. the end.

darren bought the jesus and mary chain singles album today. god, they were great for a while. i saw them at north london polytechnic in 1983. the first single on creation records, upside down, had just come out and they were the nme darlings. this was the gig where they came on stage and just leaned their one string guitars up against the amps and stared at the audience. the ear piercing feedback lasted ten minutes before the crowd threw anything they could get their hands on at the stage and pulled down the pa system. it really was a riot, you shoulda been there. when i came out i was so hyper i had to call someone and tell them about it. i called a mate in newcastle and woke his family up. i wasn't making any sense ("a riot? that was fun?") but i just had to register the fact that i attended something monumental. then six months later that first album came out and they were huge and even did top of the pops. fuckers.
off for a few beers at the local dump of a gay bar. well, it is happy hour.

nooooooooooooooo! audio galaxy has been destroyed!

anyone know a good alternative?

rejoice! she's coming to town

we have tickets for sandra bernhard at shepherds bush empire on 14 july. i saw 'without you i'm nothing' twice in 1995. the second time, at the royal festival hall (the first show was at the queens on shaftsbury avenue) was the best night out i had in 1995. honest. sandra is responsible for my 'valley of the dolls' fixation. in that show she did a classic sketch where she plays a very drunk jacqueline susann, "GET ME A REMY MARTIN NOW!".......just brilliant.

i go here when it all gets too much. (i dont actually GO there, i just shut my eyes and imagine i'm walking there on a warm day with darren and we're having a laugh and deciding where to go for dinner that night and which woody allen scene is our favourite and discussing our next coaster trip: you get the picture). sounds soppy but it calms me on wild days.

so, i got in from work at 5.45pm. the drive home was unmemorable. i ate a banana, took my clothes off, put the telepopmusik album on the soundsystem and then lay on the bed in the dark. bliss. it's been so hot at work today. air-conditioning is fucked. darren got home at 6.30 and we had thai chicken curry for dinner. darren washed up afterwards. really quickly.

make sure you do the dishes when you're alone

an american woman stabbed her boyfriend because he was washing the dishes too slowly, police say. she plunged a six inch kitchen knife into his back as he washed up. She wanted to go out and he was delaying her by taking too long doing the dishes. She is charged with assault and is in custody in billings, montana. she became angry with her boyfriend who she thought was taking too long washing up. he told police his girlfriend grabbed a kitchen knife, ran at him from behind and plunged the six inch blade into his back near the shoulder blade. after stabbing him she then kindly called an ambulance and helped to treat the wound until it arrived. the man is in a stable condition in hospital.
jeez, would she hack his legs off if he mowed the lawn too slow? women eh! can't live with 'em, can't live with 'em.
please strike that last comment from the record your honour. i love women really. some of my best friends are women. honest. *digs hole big enough to crawl in*.............

how freakin' cool are our MP's? god, it's nearly enough to make me proud to be british!

will i go to hell for showing you this?

went to the dump of a local gay bar to meet lucio and catch up over a few beers. which was nice. then me and darren drove down to vauxhall for rocktronica at dukes (the south london daddy-bear hang out). john the dj is an 'ex' of lucios and he has a great cd collection. fave songs he played tonight: the one from the yeah yeah yeahs where she sings "at the first sign you suck", hiroshima mon amour by ultravox, dj by bowie and main offender by the hives. we liked it. on the way home we called in at the 24 bagel joint in brick lane and bought salt beef sandwiches. delish. got home for the osbournes on mtv. fucking funny (the one where sharon fights with the neighbours).

darren poked the camera out of the car window as we sped past big ben tonight. this is the shot.

today i am Drogo Tighfield of Tookbank. who are you?

penalty shoot-outs. goodbye ireland, hello spain! lit the bbq this morning and grilled/burned some cumberland sausages. which we inserted into buns and gobbled up before the footy. i'm still in a 'garden type of mood' so i was out there at 8.30 this morning touching up the whitewashed walls and picking at the lawn. bit of cabin fever setting in now. need to get out but don't know where. a drive in the country? movies? dinner in shoreditch? sunday afternoon punk rock records in a south london gay bar? so many possibilities.......
poor darren still has a problem with his upper back and lower neck which gives him pain so i don't think we will be doing much for the rest of sunday.
do you know how good the electric soft parade album is? remember the smoking popes? well, it's better than them.
ooooooooo! a fwend just called and invited us to the local dump of a gay bar for an afternoon shandy. might as well. shall get the low down on the shy 24 year old from leeds who's been visiting him this weekend and has just been deposited on the train home.
"i never said you were old enough to be his dad" (though you are).

guess what? we didn't go out! had a nap, woke up cranky, ate dinner, went for a walk, bought beer and ice cream, watched psycho (the modern version), listening to tweet now, getting drunk to aid sleep while flicking through a catalogue of property for sale on the isle of skye.

not stopped odd-jobbing round the garden since i got up this morning. cut the grass, fixed the fence, painted window frames, killed ants, fed the lawn with nitrogen and chucked out a load of unsightly garden trash. didn't even stop to watch the footy. england won against denmark 3-0. hurrah! while i was pottering around the garden i could hear the cheers from all the surrrounding houses as each goal was scored. watched tv last night with a chinese takeaway. an early night was needed. hoping to go to duckie tonight but am getting old so will probably bottle out at 9pm and have another takeaway and watch tv. good god, i might as well live on a remote scottish island.

last night was fun. apart from the dreadful pop music racket that the pub blasted out all night. why do they play it so fucking loud? impossible to chat to anyone. i had to yell to be heard over kylie et al. stupid pub. anyway, apart from that it was a nice evening away from the sofa. it was richards birthday and his fella bought him a big ornament of two blokes intertwined or something like that. he didn't actually bring it the pub so i can only imagine what it looks like. pity he didn't ring someone before he went shopping; "shall i get richard this trip to new york or this lovely brass ornament?". oh well. i count my blessings because darren bought me a trip to barcelona for my birthday last year. needless to say richard has taken the brunt of all the piss taking today. poor thing. me and darren got home in time to watch big brother and tuck into pie and chips. oh, we bought him a t-shirt.
the readers wifes have their own website. hurrah! they are a beacon of light in this plastic, tanned orange, hard house, gym fuck-heads, crash and trade motherfuckers, hell hole we call queer london. who else could keep a dance floor filled while playing 'identity' by x ray spex, the theme from 'bless this house' and 'ghost in my house' by r dean taylor? no one else, thats who. they play at duckie every saturday.

off out boozing tonight. richard's birthday. celebrating in the duke of wellington in soho. did you know that soho used to be a hunting ground attached to westminster palace? and that the word 'soho' is what the beaters used to shout while the toffs were hunting? i didn't, fascinating eh? better go get something in my belly before we start.

bit of mutiny in the office today. boss's boss wants more people in the office between 9am and 5pm. we work semi flexible hours here and as long as you do the required amount every day no one can touch you. now though it looks like we have to start some sort of rota to ensure someone is here from 9am every day. blimey, like being back at school. we are going to suggest that we all work exactly 9 to 5. walking out at 5pm on the dot. which should fuck up the evening functions we usually have to attend for work. as well as the overseas trips to godforsaken parts of the world which involve 36 hour journeys at the weekend. bastards. we work mainly by e-mail, we have voice mail, why do we need to be in the office from 9am? time for a job change?

I JUST WENT TO NUMBER ONE IN THE CHARTS!!!!!!
well, the downtempo electronic chart on vitaminic.co.uk. well chuffed. i am. boston flight delayed has had over 3500 downloads. crikey.
though personally i would rather have six flags astroworld at the top. it sounds like london at 5am on a summer sunday morn.
just seen the new prodigy video on mtv. brilliant. scary. sick. welcome back. love the bit where keith gurgles with what looks like spunk. baby's got a temper!

so i just downloaded a load of vines songs. then took a listen before i put them onto a cd. apart from the last single, highly evolved (90 seconds long!), i didn't like it. can we have too much melodic grating guitar noise? i didn't used to think so but now i'm swithering. i love the hives, the strokes and even the yeah yeah yeahs but i've had enough. i wouldn't give a fuck if muse split up tomorrow because you know what, there are a thousand new bands out there who are just as good and could take their place. i think it's time for a re-fit. no more tight leather jackets, scrappy hair, ironic 70's t-shirts and beach boy melodies. where have all the punks gone? thank god for jarvis and pulp.

darren has a sore neck and is off work. i think we need to move our tv to directly in front of the sofa. where it is now we have to sit with our necks turned to the right to watch telly. which is obviously not right yet doesn't seem to be uncomfortable while we are doing it. who knows.
six feet under started last night and it was fucking excellent. such clever caustic writing. just beautiful.

it's been a private press type of weekend

the dj shadow album is the dogs bollox. fantastic. download it now. i've played it all weekend all over the house and it's best on headphones. he is still the jimmy paige of the sampler. and a looker too. see below.
got drunk on saturday afternoon in the local dump of a gay bar with darren, rob and lucio. which meant we were fucked by 8pm so didn't make it to duckie. which is a pity cos we haven't been for weeks to hear the readers wifes play their punk rock records. when we drove rob home (i'd sobered up by then) he was leaning out of the car windows shouting 'scrubbers' at the top of his voice at pedestrians. just like richard e grant in withnail and i.
watched chopper in bed this morning. excellent. eric bana - phwooaaarrrrrr! i wonder if bj has seen it?
japan beat russia in the world cup this morning and the news tonight carried some fantastic rioting in moscow. boy, were they mad at losing. thousands of 'hooligans' went berserk and caused havoc but the best bits were the pics of the police beating up anyone they got their hands on. priceless. it's such a fucked up place (russia) (i know it well) and todays riots reminded me of how useless the fuckers were at anything revolutionary approx. 100 years ago. shoulda kept their royals and then they could have had a 2 day day bank holiday for the golden jubilee. like what we did last week.
tonight i have downloaded most of the contents of jockohomo's march play list and i shall play it at work tomorrow. he has great taste.

how does asparagus do that?

one nil. we won. i didn't watch it though. everyone at work went to the pub to watch the match. i stayed in the office to answer the phones. what a gem eh. last night i downloaded cd1 of the trojan dub box set. fab 70's dub mixes from the trojan label. it's such a cool sexy label and reminds me of ox blood dr martins faded levis, button down collar white shirts and braces.

of course, i was far too young to join in with the above type of behaviour in the 70's. but the good thing is i really remember the music and it conjours up images of my uncle george visiting us (he would be about 18, i would be about 10) in his full skinhead gear and his tapes of trojan sounds such as skinhead moonstomp and long shot kick de bucket. oh and i fell in love with vespas in the 70's.

freakin' june and it's pissing down. makes riding my motorbike to work a challenge. still, i'd rather get soaked every day than ride the underground. takes me an hour door to door to get to work if i use the tube but only half an hour on my trusty honda cg. no contest really. i bought the bike last year after hunting down a japanese import because the new european styling for the cg is very clunky looking. the japs haven't changed their design since the seventies and the bike reminds me of old episodes of the dukes of hazard (no, i don't look like daisy duke).

back safely from germany. no thanks to buzz and their flight from hell on tuesday night from frankfurt. actually it wasn't their fault, it was the sultry weather causing severe turbulence. our four day mini-tour was excellent. everything worked like clockwork (as it should in germany) and our goals were achieved (world cup pun intended).

i'm sure you will all be pleased to know that my boss arrived in baku safely (amazingly!).
i have a headache caused by proof reading catalogues this afternoon so am off home now to pack my smalls for tomorrows trip. great news this afternoon; senegal beat france in the first game of the world cup. france won the world cup in 1998. hahahahahaha. frogs legs for tea? non.

highly illegal but surprisingly pleasing. i have downloaded several albums lately from audiogalaxy that i would have actually bought could i have been bothered to schlep out to the shops. adult, fischerspooner, yeah yeah yeahs, tweet and N.E.R.D. doubly disturbing is the fact that my husband works 'in the business' and is a bit confused about his feelings for this practice. i'm sure he celebrates the punk ethics of sharing/stealing all music but then i'm also sure he knows that if everyone did it he would be out of a job.
off to germany tomorrow to race around the treetops at nearly 100mph. oh, and to drink bier and eat wurst too.

oh god it's only thursday

my boss is flying to azerbaijan tonight on aeroflot via moscow. that will be the last we see of him! he's off there for a week so that means that i get to do my work AND his. bargain! when i took this job 6 years ago i was quite happy to go travelling round central asia and the south caucasus several times a year. but then the novelty wore off. and the grim cities and people and food and weather all took their toll and so i said enough is enough and requested to be more deskbound. which surprisingly my boss agreed to. i'm still supposed to make at least one trip a year but for the last 2 years have managed to escape making any. i think i'm going to have to go to georgia this autumn though. i'll have to work pretty hard to get out of this one. i'm not ashamed to admit to being a lazy fucker who can't even be bothered to look for another job (which i'll only grow to hate too). better the devil you know.

bought a great map of the south west of germany. clearly shows the border crossings between france and germany. this was worrying us as we are staying in a hotel this saturday in a village called erstein near strasbourg and we needed to know the quickest way back into germany to get to europa park. should be a doddle now.

didn't get to buy a map. must do it tomorrow. work went crazy and i didn't get time. i didn't even get out to get lunch. i had a latte and a slice of carrot cake at 11am and that was it. tonight for dinner we had delicious salmon sandwiches. our friend tom is staying with us at the moment. he's on a month long holiday from his job in zurich. he spent a couple of weeks in spain and the rest of the time here in our guest room in east london (with a variety of east european, trailer trash, one night stands!). he leaves tomorrow but has been missing in action for the last three days. he turned up tonight with £2000 worth of clothes in bags from a shopping spree yesterday. lucky bastard.

gotta buy a map today. off to germany with darren on saturday to ride rollercoasters. 4 days in the black forest visiting europa park and holiday park. we need a good road map to get us from frankfurt airport in our hire car.
last month we went to disneyland paris for a long weekend (christmas present from darren). we stayed at the swish 'hotel new york' inside the park which was great. i'm sure darren thinks i wasn't grateful for his present but i really was. it cost him a fortune and it was a fantastic weekend.

so, another day at the office nearly over. my cold from last week is still lingering in my chest and making me cough a loud, rattling, phlegmy mess. very attractive. must eat some vegetables tonight. but will probably end up with cold cereal, coffee and jaffa cakes. i hope.

inspired by ultrasparky and bj i have decided to have a crack at a blog of my own. though how interesting my life will be is unclear.
i have just returned from the azerbaijan embassy where i went with my boss to celebrate independence day. i drank orange juice and nibbled a few shashliks. he drank red wine then sloped off to marks and spencers to get some knickers for his wife. i took a cab back to the office and listened to the driver whining on about the world cup. it's raining. where is summer?
must remember to go the national map centre tomorrow for a road map of the black forest for our trip to germany this weekend.
my mum and dad returned from spain late last night. i called them this morning, they had a great holiday in the barcelona region but as usual are pleased to be home. 'decent cup of tea' etc.