So I got to Whitely's Shopping Centre in Queensway. It brought back so many memories from when we used to film 'Anneka Rice's Capital Woman' there back in 1994/1995.
I found Princess Productions and was taken into the Green Room. There was a selection of other people there and I got chatting to everyone so that we all felt more comfortable. There was a guy there called Dave (a psychiatric nurse) who was there for mortgage advice and Tom who was there for the same gym membership thing that I was. Tom and I got on very well and strangely everyone assumed we'd known each other for ages.
We had a lot of very strange conversations - including one of Dave's patients who likes eating bin bags so that he can enjoy the sensation of them coming out of the other end. We waited a long time but at least I was able to explain why we were being left for such a long time - what with all the technical stuff that would be going on once they knew we were there.
Ruth was in there as well. She was the other presenter alongside Martin Lewis. She was sooooo lovely and friendly. She had a very tight pencil skirt on and kept asking my help in getting her off the sofa.
Sarah Cahwood was there as well (presenter from The Girlie Show back in the 90s and other stuff on This Morning etc). She was really, really nice and we sat chatting about the state of Britney while in make up together. She really joined in and was very friendly to me and Tom. She told us all about her great New Year's Eve adventure in San Diego with a group of American marines at some random bar she ended up in.
So we got miked up and went through to the studio. The whole thing was run very slickly. The crew were great and the floor manager was called Charlie and looked just like Danny Dyer. Martin was lovely and really good - the whole thing went very smoothly and it was over before we knew it. They showed the VT that was filmed at my flat the other day and then Martin interviewed Tom and myself about our discounted gym membership. Then we went and sat behind Sarah as she went through her purse as Martin told her how to save money on her daily stuff.
Then we filmed 'It Pays To Watch MORE' that is kind of like Xtra Factor and goes out on www.itpaystowatch.co.uk after each show. That was great fun to do and much easier.
Then it was all done and we were taken back to the Green Room. Martin, Ruth, Sarah, Tom and I chatted away for a bit with Guy and Laura.
After a while we all headed off and I shot home. I watched Corrie and then got in the car to go to Sainsbury's as I wanted to get a new hoover as the old one is dead and I wanted to hoover the bedroom before putting out the bed. I also wanted to get new bedsheets etc.
I got to Sainsbury's at about 9pm and got a hoover designed for pets, some really nice bedding and other bits and bobs.
Then I got home, hoovered the bedroom carpet and built the bed. Who'd have thought it could be such hard work! It seemed to take forever. By about 1am it was done, the bedding was on and I was able to get into my new bed, in my new sheets and in my bedclothes that the guys from Jeremy Kyle bought me as a leaving present.
It was bliss and I had the best night's sleep I've had in London for a long time.
Sunday, 13 January 2008
The new bed arrives
Oh my god. How did I end up feeling SO hungover?
The phone rang and it was the delivery guy with my bed. He said he'd be there in about half an hour. What a relief as I was worried it wouldn't get here in time for me to leave for the rehearsal filming of 'It Pays To Watch' where Martin Lewis is finding me the best value gym membership on the show.
Guy from the show called as well to ask if I could bring along my gym kit as well just in case they decided to go with that look.
The guys from the bed company turned up. Neither of them were good looking which was a shame. They brought the bed up and I tried to look human despite feeling so rough. Of course I'd left the green cover (that I had to put the mattress in before collection) at Clive's and the guys refused to take the mattress away without it on. But as the new mattress had come in a plastic cover they agreed to use that instead. Thank god.
It was all packed up and needed me to build it but there was no way that was going to happen with the way I felt. I went back to sleep on the sofa for a bit and then threw myself out into the shower. I got dressed and eventually headed out for the filming. I'll build the bed later on when I get home after the show. It's quite exciting though to see the bedroom without that nasty old bed that's been there for 15 years.
The phone rang and it was the delivery guy with my bed. He said he'd be there in about half an hour. What a relief as I was worried it wouldn't get here in time for me to leave for the rehearsal filming of 'It Pays To Watch' where Martin Lewis is finding me the best value gym membership on the show.
Guy from the show called as well to ask if I could bring along my gym kit as well just in case they decided to go with that look.
The guys from the bed company turned up. Neither of them were good looking which was a shame. They brought the bed up and I tried to look human despite feeling so rough. Of course I'd left the green cover (that I had to put the mattress in before collection) at Clive's and the guys refused to take the mattress away without it on. But as the new mattress had come in a plastic cover they agreed to use that instead. Thank god.
It was all packed up and needed me to build it but there was no way that was going to happen with the way I felt. I went back to sleep on the sofa for a bit and then threw myself out into the shower. I got dressed and eventually headed out for the filming. I'll build the bed later on when I get home after the show. It's quite exciting though to see the bedroom without that nasty old bed that's been there for 15 years.
Tuesday, 8 January 2008
Heading down to London
I had a decision to make. Was Spirit well enough to come to London with me or should he stay in the flat in Manchester? It was the difference between me getting the train down for 3 days or driving down and staying a couple of weeks. Katie upstairs could look after him and Sable but I'd hate myself if I got back on Wednesday night and he'd died or got really ill.
I decided to drive down. I packed up the car with clothes, food and all sorts. I got Spirit and Sable into their carriers and left the flat at about 3pm. It was actually a really easy drive down and Spirit hardly moaned on the way down in his usual manner.
The UK top 40 was on and I had a nice time singing along to the songs that were on. I got to London for about 7pm and unpacked the car. Spirit looked VERY excited to be home. He ran around the flat smelling everything and ran up and down the stairs from the roof garden to the car park and along all the other landings for an hour or so.
I was a bit worried about him being outside with his stitches but there wasn't really much I could do. I went over the road and got some food and a couple of bottles of wine in. The flat really needs a good clean and I want to sort everything out but that can wait for later in the week.
I watched telly, ate some food, drank some wine and then decided to go and see Sandra at The Black Cap. Sandra wasn't on but I saw Titti La Camp and Little John. It was only when I got home I realised I was quite drunk and fell into bed.
I decided to drive down. I packed up the car with clothes, food and all sorts. I got Spirit and Sable into their carriers and left the flat at about 3pm. It was actually a really easy drive down and Spirit hardly moaned on the way down in his usual manner.
The UK top 40 was on and I had a nice time singing along to the songs that were on. I got to London for about 7pm and unpacked the car. Spirit looked VERY excited to be home. He ran around the flat smelling everything and ran up and down the stairs from the roof garden to the car park and along all the other landings for an hour or so.
I was a bit worried about him being outside with his stitches but there wasn't really much I could do. I went over the road and got some food and a couple of bottles of wine in. The flat really needs a good clean and I want to sort everything out but that can wait for later in the week.
I watched telly, ate some food, drank some wine and then decided to go and see Sandra at The Black Cap. Sandra wasn't on but I saw Titti La Camp and Little John. It was only when I got home I realised I was quite drunk and fell into bed.
Monday, 7 January 2008
Spirit gets cancer
After recovering from the New Year madness I was watching TV with my cat Spirit on my lap.
I found a lump on his neck. It was about the size of a 10p coin. I checked the rest of him out and found 5 other small lumps on his back. He didn't seem bothered by them but I knew immediately what it was.
I knew it was cancer.
I let Spirit sleep on my bed for the first time in years that night. I couldn't bring myself to think about it too much.
The next morning I called the vets and they made an appointment for me on Friday morning. At least if nothing else I was going to get to see the handsome vet called Matt that I saw the last time I took spirit in.
Everyone else had gone into work today and I was getting messages on Facebook from everyone in the office asking me questions about where to find things and all that kind of stuff.
I spoke to Nicola about Spirit - she was lovely and put me at ease a bit. She told me that there's no point in thinking the worst until we'd been to the vets and got it all confirmed.
Spirit slept on my bed again that night. He seemed happy there and I wanted to make sure he was as happy as possible.
I got up early the next day. I got myself ready and got Spirit into the carrier. I got him him in the car and turned the key. It wouldn't start. The bloody battery had died because I'd left it over Christmas.
I called a cab and sat by the wall with Spirit looking at me through the bars of his carrier.
I got to the vets and waited in reception. I was nervous. Spirit was still looking at me.
We went in. Dr. Matt was as handsome as I remembered. He has such a good mannerism too and made everything seem better. He told me that it could be an allergy to my Christmas tree or something else less scary than cancer. He told me that I'd be better off leaving Spirit with him so they could run some tests and take some samples.
I walked out of the vets without my cat and walked home.
When I got home I emailed Jess at work and Nicola as well. I arranged to meet Jessica and Klare for lunch at Walkabout. I needed to get out of the flat and not think about what was going on at the vets.
Just as I was leaving the flat, I got a call from Dr. Matt. I was meant to call him after 2.30pm so why was he calling me?
"Hi Matthew," he said. "It's Matt from the vets."
"Hello," I replied. This can't be good news.
"Are you free to talk?"
"Yes."
"We got the results back from the lab. They've found something that is of concern. The results showed up some cancerous cells and it seems that Spirit has one of two types of very rare cancers and they have to do a biopsy to find out which of the two it is. Is that OK? We can do it today before you come to get him and then can get the results back next week and take it from there."
Spirit has cancer. I couldn't believe it. He's been with me through thick and thin and I never thought I could be so close to an animal. It sounds childish but he really is my best friend. Now he has cancer.
"Of course you can do a biopsy," I said. "But can I ask. Is it treatable?"
"To a point," Matt said.
That means no, doesn't it?
I asked when I could come and pick him up and then got off the phone to handsome Dr. Matt.
I went out and met Jess and Klare for lunch. We had a lovely chat and I tried to put the whole cancer thing to the back of my mind. I had a Kangaroo burger and a big glass of wine. I told them about the job at CNN and found out all the gossip from Jeremy Kyle.
I left them after lunch and wandered around The Arndale Centre and King's Street. Halfway down King's Street it started to hit me. I could feel myself welling up. I got back to the car and got home. Then I started to cry. Spirit was at the vets on his own after being operated on and he could be dying.
I called Steven and told him. He was amazing. So reassuring and helpful. He had been through the same thing with Tweaky when he got cancer and knew what I was going through. I cried so much down the phone to him and he let me. If Spirit goes then that will be the last link between us gone. He bought Spirit for me for my birthday and it took him months to find him. Spirit grew up thinking that Steven's dog Tweaky was his mummy - even though Tweaky was a labrador/terrier cross and a boy. In the end - he had to go and I got off the phone. I still wish we were together, even though I ended up leaving him and there were lots of bad times as well as good times.
Eventually the time came for me to go and get Spirit. I had got the AA to fix the car at last and so I drove over to get him.
When I sat in that waiting room I just started to blub. I couldn't hold it in. There were people around me with gerbils and dog's waiting to go in and I didn't want to cry in front of them. I just had water falling out of my eyes. I kept reading the labels on dog food and stuff. I even studied the coving on the ceiling. It didn't work. I couldn't stop crying but I was trying my hardest not to. I felt like a chav who'd just found out his pit bull was about to croak. I texted Nicola and asked her if she could come to the vets and be with me. She got straight back to me and said that of course she would. She said she'd get in a cab.
I finally got called in and this nurse who didn't know me from Adam just gave me Spirit back and the bill. I tried to ask her questions but she didn't know anything and said that I'd get a call when they got the results back.
I got out of there and just wanted to go home and hold Spirit. I texted Nicola and she told me to come over afterwards for dinner. I got Spirit home and got him out of the box. I was shocked. He had a massive cut down his back and all the fur shaved off from his back. There were stitches everywhere. It was horrible.
I made sure that he was OK and he managed to eat the Tesco finest cat food I got for him so I went over to Nicola's.
She cooked me a lovely meal and we had a really nice chat. Sam came home and we chatted about his work and stuff. They both looked after me fantastically and then I headed home.
I don't think I've ever hugged Spirit so much. He didn't just get to sleep on the bed that night. He got his own pillow and purred the whole night long.
I found a lump on his neck. It was about the size of a 10p coin. I checked the rest of him out and found 5 other small lumps on his back. He didn't seem bothered by them but I knew immediately what it was.
I knew it was cancer.
I let Spirit sleep on my bed for the first time in years that night. I couldn't bring myself to think about it too much.
The next morning I called the vets and they made an appointment for me on Friday morning. At least if nothing else I was going to get to see the handsome vet called Matt that I saw the last time I took spirit in.
Everyone else had gone into work today and I was getting messages on Facebook from everyone in the office asking me questions about where to find things and all that kind of stuff.
I spoke to Nicola about Spirit - she was lovely and put me at ease a bit. She told me that there's no point in thinking the worst until we'd been to the vets and got it all confirmed.
Spirit slept on my bed again that night. He seemed happy there and I wanted to make sure he was as happy as possible.
I got up early the next day. I got myself ready and got Spirit into the carrier. I got him him in the car and turned the key. It wouldn't start. The bloody battery had died because I'd left it over Christmas.
I called a cab and sat by the wall with Spirit looking at me through the bars of his carrier.
I got to the vets and waited in reception. I was nervous. Spirit was still looking at me.
We went in. Dr. Matt was as handsome as I remembered. He has such a good mannerism too and made everything seem better. He told me that it could be an allergy to my Christmas tree or something else less scary than cancer. He told me that I'd be better off leaving Spirit with him so they could run some tests and take some samples.
I walked out of the vets without my cat and walked home.
When I got home I emailed Jess at work and Nicola as well. I arranged to meet Jessica and Klare for lunch at Walkabout. I needed to get out of the flat and not think about what was going on at the vets.
Just as I was leaving the flat, I got a call from Dr. Matt. I was meant to call him after 2.30pm so why was he calling me?
"Hi Matthew," he said. "It's Matt from the vets."
"Hello," I replied. This can't be good news.
"Are you free to talk?"
"Yes."
"We got the results back from the lab. They've found something that is of concern. The results showed up some cancerous cells and it seems that Spirit has one of two types of very rare cancers and they have to do a biopsy to find out which of the two it is. Is that OK? We can do it today before you come to get him and then can get the results back next week and take it from there."
Spirit has cancer. I couldn't believe it. He's been with me through thick and thin and I never thought I could be so close to an animal. It sounds childish but he really is my best friend. Now he has cancer.
"Of course you can do a biopsy," I said. "But can I ask. Is it treatable?"
"To a point," Matt said.
That means no, doesn't it?
I asked when I could come and pick him up and then got off the phone to handsome Dr. Matt.
I went out and met Jess and Klare for lunch. We had a lovely chat and I tried to put the whole cancer thing to the back of my mind. I had a Kangaroo burger and a big glass of wine. I told them about the job at CNN and found out all the gossip from Jeremy Kyle.
I left them after lunch and wandered around The Arndale Centre and King's Street. Halfway down King's Street it started to hit me. I could feel myself welling up. I got back to the car and got home. Then I started to cry. Spirit was at the vets on his own after being operated on and he could be dying.
I called Steven and told him. He was amazing. So reassuring and helpful. He had been through the same thing with Tweaky when he got cancer and knew what I was going through. I cried so much down the phone to him and he let me. If Spirit goes then that will be the last link between us gone. He bought Spirit for me for my birthday and it took him months to find him. Spirit grew up thinking that Steven's dog Tweaky was his mummy - even though Tweaky was a labrador/terrier cross and a boy. In the end - he had to go and I got off the phone. I still wish we were together, even though I ended up leaving him and there were lots of bad times as well as good times.
Eventually the time came for me to go and get Spirit. I had got the AA to fix the car at last and so I drove over to get him.
When I sat in that waiting room I just started to blub. I couldn't hold it in. There were people around me with gerbils and dog's waiting to go in and I didn't want to cry in front of them. I just had water falling out of my eyes. I kept reading the labels on dog food and stuff. I even studied the coving on the ceiling. It didn't work. I couldn't stop crying but I was trying my hardest not to. I felt like a chav who'd just found out his pit bull was about to croak. I texted Nicola and asked her if she could come to the vets and be with me. She got straight back to me and said that of course she would. She said she'd get in a cab.
I finally got called in and this nurse who didn't know me from Adam just gave me Spirit back and the bill. I tried to ask her questions but she didn't know anything and said that I'd get a call when they got the results back.
I got out of there and just wanted to go home and hold Spirit. I texted Nicola and she told me to come over afterwards for dinner. I got Spirit home and got him out of the box. I was shocked. He had a massive cut down his back and all the fur shaved off from his back. There were stitches everywhere. It was horrible.
I made sure that he was OK and he managed to eat the Tesco finest cat food I got for him so I went over to Nicola's.
She cooked me a lovely meal and we had a really nice chat. Sam came home and we chatted about his work and stuff. They both looked after me fantastically and then I headed home.
I don't think I've ever hugged Spirit so much. He didn't just get to sleep on the bed that night. He got his own pillow and purred the whole night long.
Saturday, 5 January 2008
Lunch and drinks with Alan
I got up and logged onto Facebook. My friend Alan sent me a message asking what I was up to and if I fancied coffee.
We met up for lunch at Taurus and had a chat over some very good food. He's finding the breakup with his ex very tough and hasn't been sleeping or eating well. I got him laughing and talking about all kinds of silly stuff. We went though quite a lot of beer and a bottle of red wine. I told him about the strange co-incidence of bumping into Tim all over the place and he told me about the kind of things that can happen in post office queues with handsome doctors or at The Cornerhouse Cinema with Bosnian soldiers.
The waiter was very cute but however hard I tried to flirt with him he didn't seem to notice. We left.
It was BITTERLY cold outside so we scurried to Via Fossa. Once in there we met up with a friend of his who had another friend in tow who Alan took a liking to. We all chatted and had quite a nice time. I got some guy thrown out because he kept pestering us and another group of people to see if anyone wanted to buy coke off him.
Then Alan decided it was time to head home and so I wandered about a bit but it was too cold to be outside and the bars were all dead so I made my merry way back home on the bus. I got a text from Alan thanking me for cheering him up, which was nice.
I sat and watched rubbish TV for a bit and then went to bed. Spirit was being very needy so I let him sleep on the bed for the first time in years.
We met up for lunch at Taurus and had a chat over some very good food. He's finding the breakup with his ex very tough and hasn't been sleeping or eating well. I got him laughing and talking about all kinds of silly stuff. We went though quite a lot of beer and a bottle of red wine. I told him about the strange co-incidence of bumping into Tim all over the place and he told me about the kind of things that can happen in post office queues with handsome doctors or at The Cornerhouse Cinema with Bosnian soldiers.
The waiter was very cute but however hard I tried to flirt with him he didn't seem to notice. We left.
It was BITTERLY cold outside so we scurried to Via Fossa. Once in there we met up with a friend of his who had another friend in tow who Alan took a liking to. We all chatted and had quite a nice time. I got some guy thrown out because he kept pestering us and another group of people to see if anyone wanted to buy coke off him.
Then Alan decided it was time to head home and so I wandered about a bit but it was too cold to be outside and the bars were all dead so I made my merry way back home on the bus. I got a text from Alan thanking me for cheering him up, which was nice.
I sat and watched rubbish TV for a bit and then went to bed. Spirit was being very needy so I let him sleep on the bed for the first time in years.
Friday, 4 January 2008
Recovering from NYE and CNN job offer
I eventually woke up at 3.30pm on New Year's Day with the phone ringing. It was Richard.
"I've not got long to talk as I'm flying out to Egypt tomorrow so I have to get things done and get to bed early, but I've spoken to my producer and she seems happy enough so send us both your C.V. and we'll get you in for a trial 3 month run when you're back to London," he said. "Is that OK?"
"Oh that's great news," I said. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."
"Now the only thing is that as a friend I can't get involved from here on in so it's up to you and her to work things out."
"Of course, I really am just grateful of the chance."
Richard hung up and I danced around the flat for a bit.
After the initial excitement wore off the hangover kicked in and I felt so rough. I sat there watching TV. I don't even remember what I watched.
At around 8.30pm "Marine Jon" sent me a text to see if I was going to Paula's party and if so would I bring the fireworks. I said I'd come over in a bit but then the tiredness got the better of me and I had to send a text to tell him that I was going to bed.
That was the last I heard from "Marine Jon". I don't think he was happy with me standing him up...
I went to bed and slept. Very well. At last.
"I've not got long to talk as I'm flying out to Egypt tomorrow so I have to get things done and get to bed early, but I've spoken to my producer and she seems happy enough so send us both your C.V. and we'll get you in for a trial 3 month run when you're back to London," he said. "Is that OK?"
"Oh that's great news," I said. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."
"Now the only thing is that as a friend I can't get involved from here on in so it's up to you and her to work things out."
"Of course, I really am just grateful of the chance."
Richard hung up and I danced around the flat for a bit.
After the initial excitement wore off the hangover kicked in and I felt so rough. I sat there watching TV. I don't even remember what I watched.
At around 8.30pm "Marine Jon" sent me a text to see if I was going to Paula's party and if so would I bring the fireworks. I said I'd come over in a bit but then the tiredness got the better of me and I had to send a text to tell him that I was going to bed.
That was the last I heard from "Marine Jon". I don't think he was happy with me standing him up...
I went to bed and slept. Very well. At last.
Thursday, 3 January 2008
Jay dies and there's NYE madness
I got up quite early with every intention of getting on the train early so I could miss the rush. According to the news there were meant to be about 60,000 people trying to get from London to the North West so I wanted to get a head start.
Then my phone rang. I didn't recognise the number but I answered it anyway.
"Hi Matthew. It's Clae," I heard.
"Oh my god - Clae, how are you? Did you have a good Christmas?" I replied.
"I'm actually not that good," Clae said.
"Oh really?" I said. "What's wrong? You sound really bad."
I've known Clae for about 3 years now after he came along to be in the audience of Celebrity Big Brother a few years back with my friend Jay. I'd met Jay on the internet back in the day and he was a very attractive boy from Cape Town who had dreams of becoming a singer but had ended up working on the underground. We'd gone for a few dates but then become friends. Jay and Clae had ended up getting married last year and I'd gone to their reception. I actually ended up becoming better friends with Clae as time went on as we seemed to be the grown ups when Jay was running around having fun and filling himself up with various substances. I'd even ended up lending them £1000 a couple of years back when their rent arrears had got to a point they were going to be thrown out of their home. They'd had trouble paying me back but had worked extra hard to get me the money. Part of me wondered if they were calling me up to borrow more money, but something told me it was worse than that. As soon as Clae started the next sentence I knew it was much, much more serious.
"I'm actually calling you up with some bad news," Clae said. He was struggling to hold it together. "I went out shopping on Saturday afternoon to Covent Garden for a few hours and left Jay on his own in the flat. They think that he either put on a chip pan of oil or that he put a meal in the oven to cook, but then went through to the living room and fell asleep on the sofa."
I stopped breathing. I didn't want to hear what I was about to hear but knew what was coming.
"I got home about 2 hours later and they'd already pulled him out of the flat and were working on him on a stretcher before getting him to hospital. They think that smoke inhalation over came him while he was asleep on the sofa. They worked on him through the night and he was on a life support system and his heart was still beating but they couldn't get a response from his brain."
By this point I was just standing in my living room with my hand over my mouth. I didn't know what to say.
"They did everything they could but at 5.30am yesterday, I waited for two of my friends to get to the hospital and then I said my goodbyes and gave my permission for them to turn his machine off," Clae said with a quivering voice.
The tears were falling from my face by now. I still didn't know what to say.
"Oh my god," was all I could manage. It just didn't feel like it could be true. Jay had so much life in him. His stunning blue eyes and his cheeky boyish grin. He was only 24 when he died.
After starting to get a grip of myself I started asking Clae questions. Where was Jay now? How was Clae coping? Was he with friends? Where was he staying if the flat was burnt out?
I didn't know what I should do. I couldn't believe that I'm getting another phone call to tell me that someone I cared about had died. Only a few months ago I was being told that my friend Tim had killed himself after having a row with his boyfriend and taking an overdose while putting a plastic bag over his head (Tim was the kind of ex-forces man who never failed at what he set out to do - even when it came to ending his own life). Now this.
I told Clae that I was heading up to Manchester today but could change my plans if he needed me to. I said I'd be back next week and he said that the funeral would be after that and he had friends looking after him. After more talking he said that he'd got to where he was going and needed to get off the phone. I told him I love him and I'll speak to him during the week.
I got off the phone and sat in silence. I was numb. It didn't feel real.
In the end I decided I had to get up and get moving. I packed up everything and locked up the flat. I went over to Clive's for a bit. I was trying to put off having to deal with a journey from hell until I knew I wasn't about to break down about the news of Jay's death.
I sat and helped Clive sort out his computer for a bit and then we walked down into town, generally chatting all the way. I love Clive so much for the fact that sometimes he'll just let me be with him without asking any questions and just pottering about with me. I thought I was OK so I headed to King's Cross to get on the train to Sheffield. I had a bit of time so I got a glass of champagne at the long champagne bar and toasted Jay.
Then I got on the train. I still felt numb. I got a bottle of wine and a sandwich. I sat on the train on my own and drank my wine. The journey wasn't at all stressful and where ever these 60,000 people were, they weren't on my train. I think in the end I dozed off for a bit and woke up as we came into Sheffield.
There was a bit of a delay but I waited on the station. With everything that was going on in my head, I almost forgot it was New Year's Eve. There were some cute boys on the platform who were wearing nothing more than T-shirts (in -2 temperatures) and people were drinking from cans. I got on a train to Manchester and got to Manchester at around 7.30pm. I was tired and wanted to go to bed.
As I walked across the concourse at Piccadilly I saw a hooded top and jeans that I really recognised. It was 'Lovely Tim'. It really began to feel strange - how many times can I bump into someone in the space of one week in various parts of the country without even trying? Talk about fate.
He was with other people so I didn't want to say anything out of turn. I walked past him and didn't even know if he'd seen me. I stopped to answer my phone when Andy called me and as I stopped he passed me and flashed me a typically lovely smile. He'd seen me.
I headed to Sainsbury's and got some stuff in. A bottle of sparkling wine and a Chinese meal. And some cat food for Spirit and Sable. I got the bus home and when I walked in the flat I expected chaos but it wasn't as bad as I expected. I cleaned the place up a bit and cooked the food. I had a bath and was so tired that I was seriously considering just going to bed.
I ate my food and drank some wine. But then around 10.30pm my friend Gerwyn called to check and see if I was still going to his New Year's Party. I sorted myself out and took a bottle of wine with me.
I found his flat and walked in. Michael and Martin were there. Jon was also there (from Christmas Day). Paula was there and was the life and soul of the party as ever. Her nephew Jon and his girlfriend Emma was there as well. Jon and I got on really, really well and just started getting very silly together. I won't lie. He was attractive. He is also a marine and that has to make things even better. But he was with his girlfriend and she was also lovely. I put the attractiveness to the back of my mind and enjoyed just being silly with him.
We all got drunk and watched the New Year in on the telly with Take That on at the O2 Arena. It was all good fun.
Jon and I started a dare game of putting everything in the finger buffet in Thai dipping sauce. We put donuts in it and found out they really go well with it. We also put chocolate logs in it too and that was nice. We found out that Vanilla slices aren't so nice in sweet chili sauce.
"It tastes like a mouthful of cum!" he said laughing.
Now how the hell does a straight marine know what a mouthful of cum tastes like? Emma did explain in the end and we won't go into it on here.
So after a while we all decided to walk into town and go to Hollywood Show Bar. Jon and I got in and went to the coat check and then to the loo. My phone started ringing and it was Gerwyn screaming down the phone "Matthew! Please don't shag him! Emma's in tears thinking that you've gone off with him somewhere!"
Part of me was angry that he would think I'd do it but I kept my cool and just told him that I wouldn't do that. It was fine and we joined them. Emma was upset and Gerwyn kept repeating "Matthew please don't try to shag him. Please". What got me that Gerwyn was making out that Jon had no free will of his own and would stop being straight if I decided to hit on him. Of course he wouldn't and that's why I wasn't going to bother trying to shag him. Unfortunately, Gerwyn didn't seem to understand this. But then again, we were all very drunk so I can't blame him for being so over-dramatic.
In the end I kind of left them to their little drama that I seemed to have become embroiled in. Micheal and Martin and I danced around being very silly together. Their friend Paul turned up and we were all dancing around. Drunk. I think I can remember snogging Paul a bit, but just for fun.
We left and headed for Morning Glory. As we left, 2 lads kind of grabbed me and started chatting to me. They said that they wanted to take me back to their hotel but (after considering it for a while) I left them to it and rejoined Michael, Martin and Paul. We went to Morning Glory for a bit but I got tired and wanted to go home to bed. I got out of the club and wandered down Canal Street.
I passed a good looking slim blond lad outside The Rembrandt. We got chatting and he was called Tom and he was from Newcastle. We ended up snogging and stuff in Sackville Gardens. I walked him to his hotel and said I'd come and find him at 11.30am and take him back to my place.
I headed home to my flat. I walked home - though I don't really know why. I don't really remember the journey home but I made it and fell into bed. Unfortunately, I woke up after 3.30pm so missed out on the chance to meet up with Tom.
That was certainly a very long but very full 36 hours.
Then my phone rang. I didn't recognise the number but I answered it anyway.
"Hi Matthew. It's Clae," I heard.
"Oh my god - Clae, how are you? Did you have a good Christmas?" I replied.
"I'm actually not that good," Clae said.
"Oh really?" I said. "What's wrong? You sound really bad."
I've known Clae for about 3 years now after he came along to be in the audience of Celebrity Big Brother a few years back with my friend Jay. I'd met Jay on the internet back in the day and he was a very attractive boy from Cape Town who had dreams of becoming a singer but had ended up working on the underground. We'd gone for a few dates but then become friends. Jay and Clae had ended up getting married last year and I'd gone to their reception. I actually ended up becoming better friends with Clae as time went on as we seemed to be the grown ups when Jay was running around having fun and filling himself up with various substances. I'd even ended up lending them £1000 a couple of years back when their rent arrears had got to a point they were going to be thrown out of their home. They'd had trouble paying me back but had worked extra hard to get me the money. Part of me wondered if they were calling me up to borrow more money, but something told me it was worse than that. As soon as Clae started the next sentence I knew it was much, much more serious.
"I'm actually calling you up with some bad news," Clae said. He was struggling to hold it together. "I went out shopping on Saturday afternoon to Covent Garden for a few hours and left Jay on his own in the flat. They think that he either put on a chip pan of oil or that he put a meal in the oven to cook, but then went through to the living room and fell asleep on the sofa."
I stopped breathing. I didn't want to hear what I was about to hear but knew what was coming.
"I got home about 2 hours later and they'd already pulled him out of the flat and were working on him on a stretcher before getting him to hospital. They think that smoke inhalation over came him while he was asleep on the sofa. They worked on him through the night and he was on a life support system and his heart was still beating but they couldn't get a response from his brain."
By this point I was just standing in my living room with my hand over my mouth. I didn't know what to say.
"They did everything they could but at 5.30am yesterday, I waited for two of my friends to get to the hospital and then I said my goodbyes and gave my permission for them to turn his machine off," Clae said with a quivering voice.
The tears were falling from my face by now. I still didn't know what to say.
"Oh my god," was all I could manage. It just didn't feel like it could be true. Jay had so much life in him. His stunning blue eyes and his cheeky boyish grin. He was only 24 when he died.
After starting to get a grip of myself I started asking Clae questions. Where was Jay now? How was Clae coping? Was he with friends? Where was he staying if the flat was burnt out?
I didn't know what I should do. I couldn't believe that I'm getting another phone call to tell me that someone I cared about had died. Only a few months ago I was being told that my friend Tim had killed himself after having a row with his boyfriend and taking an overdose while putting a plastic bag over his head (Tim was the kind of ex-forces man who never failed at what he set out to do - even when it came to ending his own life). Now this.
I told Clae that I was heading up to Manchester today but could change my plans if he needed me to. I said I'd be back next week and he said that the funeral would be after that and he had friends looking after him. After more talking he said that he'd got to where he was going and needed to get off the phone. I told him I love him and I'll speak to him during the week.
I got off the phone and sat in silence. I was numb. It didn't feel real.
In the end I decided I had to get up and get moving. I packed up everything and locked up the flat. I went over to Clive's for a bit. I was trying to put off having to deal with a journey from hell until I knew I wasn't about to break down about the news of Jay's death.
I sat and helped Clive sort out his computer for a bit and then we walked down into town, generally chatting all the way. I love Clive so much for the fact that sometimes he'll just let me be with him without asking any questions and just pottering about with me. I thought I was OK so I headed to King's Cross to get on the train to Sheffield. I had a bit of time so I got a glass of champagne at the long champagne bar and toasted Jay.
Then I got on the train. I still felt numb. I got a bottle of wine and a sandwich. I sat on the train on my own and drank my wine. The journey wasn't at all stressful and where ever these 60,000 people were, they weren't on my train. I think in the end I dozed off for a bit and woke up as we came into Sheffield.
There was a bit of a delay but I waited on the station. With everything that was going on in my head, I almost forgot it was New Year's Eve. There were some cute boys on the platform who were wearing nothing more than T-shirts (in -2 temperatures) and people were drinking from cans. I got on a train to Manchester and got to Manchester at around 7.30pm. I was tired and wanted to go to bed.
As I walked across the concourse at Piccadilly I saw a hooded top and jeans that I really recognised. It was 'Lovely Tim'. It really began to feel strange - how many times can I bump into someone in the space of one week in various parts of the country without even trying? Talk about fate.
He was with other people so I didn't want to say anything out of turn. I walked past him and didn't even know if he'd seen me. I stopped to answer my phone when Andy called me and as I stopped he passed me and flashed me a typically lovely smile. He'd seen me.
I headed to Sainsbury's and got some stuff in. A bottle of sparkling wine and a Chinese meal. And some cat food for Spirit and Sable. I got the bus home and when I walked in the flat I expected chaos but it wasn't as bad as I expected. I cleaned the place up a bit and cooked the food. I had a bath and was so tired that I was seriously considering just going to bed.
I ate my food and drank some wine. But then around 10.30pm my friend Gerwyn called to check and see if I was still going to his New Year's Party. I sorted myself out and took a bottle of wine with me.
I found his flat and walked in. Michael and Martin were there. Jon was also there (from Christmas Day). Paula was there and was the life and soul of the party as ever. Her nephew Jon and his girlfriend Emma was there as well. Jon and I got on really, really well and just started getting very silly together. I won't lie. He was attractive. He is also a marine and that has to make things even better. But he was with his girlfriend and she was also lovely. I put the attractiveness to the back of my mind and enjoyed just being silly with him.
We all got drunk and watched the New Year in on the telly with Take That on at the O2 Arena. It was all good fun.
Jon and I started a dare game of putting everything in the finger buffet in Thai dipping sauce. We put donuts in it and found out they really go well with it. We also put chocolate logs in it too and that was nice. We found out that Vanilla slices aren't so nice in sweet chili sauce.
"It tastes like a mouthful of cum!" he said laughing.
Now how the hell does a straight marine know what a mouthful of cum tastes like? Emma did explain in the end and we won't go into it on here.
So after a while we all decided to walk into town and go to Hollywood Show Bar. Jon and I got in and went to the coat check and then to the loo. My phone started ringing and it was Gerwyn screaming down the phone "Matthew! Please don't shag him! Emma's in tears thinking that you've gone off with him somewhere!"
Part of me was angry that he would think I'd do it but I kept my cool and just told him that I wouldn't do that. It was fine and we joined them. Emma was upset and Gerwyn kept repeating "Matthew please don't try to shag him. Please". What got me that Gerwyn was making out that Jon had no free will of his own and would stop being straight if I decided to hit on him. Of course he wouldn't and that's why I wasn't going to bother trying to shag him. Unfortunately, Gerwyn didn't seem to understand this. But then again, we were all very drunk so I can't blame him for being so over-dramatic.
In the end I kind of left them to their little drama that I seemed to have become embroiled in. Micheal and Martin and I danced around being very silly together. Their friend Paul turned up and we were all dancing around. Drunk. I think I can remember snogging Paul a bit, but just for fun.
We left and headed for Morning Glory. As we left, 2 lads kind of grabbed me and started chatting to me. They said that they wanted to take me back to their hotel but (after considering it for a while) I left them to it and rejoined Michael, Martin and Paul. We went to Morning Glory for a bit but I got tired and wanted to go home to bed. I got out of the club and wandered down Canal Street.
I passed a good looking slim blond lad outside The Rembrandt. We got chatting and he was called Tom and he was from Newcastle. We ended up snogging and stuff in Sackville Gardens. I walked him to his hotel and said I'd come and find him at 11.30am and take him back to my place.
I headed home to my flat. I walked home - though I don't really know why. I don't really remember the journey home but I made it and fell into bed. Unfortunately, I woke up after 3.30pm so missed out on the chance to meet up with Tom.
That was certainly a very long but very full 36 hours.
Sunday, 30 December 2007
Still not made it back to Manchester
Even though I had every intention of getting back to Manchester today, after an afternoon of drinks in Soho with Clive, Robbie and our old friend Steve (he is 43 as it happens but when I say he's an old friend it's because we've known him since 1993), I'm still in London.
I went to meet Clive and Robbie at The Edge at 3pm and we downed several Bloody Mary's to get us going again. I made sure there was extra Tabasco and Wocestershire Sauce in there as well as a shot of sherry to make sure I was well and truly awake.
After a bit of boy watching we went down to Balan's (for a change) and had a really nice Christmas turkey dinner and a bottle of wine between us. The waiter from the other night when I was in with Ricardo was there and gave me a rye smile. There was also the stunning Eastern European waiter there who served me when I was in there with my actor friend Daon a few months back. He was so charming and is still such a good waiter - always where but never hanging around too much (though considering how good looking he is it was a bit of a shame he didn't hang around more).
Steve came in and joined us and then we went over to Ku Bar for a drink (there's a very cute new manager there - though he does look about 17). After that we all went over to Profile bar on Frith Street for another couple of drinks. Matt Joshua from QX Magazine was in there and it was great to see him. I've not seen him in ages so we had lots of catching up to do and remembering the old days of Thud Magazine back in the mid 90's.
There were some quite cute boys in there and Steve and I had great fun chatting to as many cute lads as we could find. Steve vanished for a bit with one nice lad and came back with a big smile on his face.
We were joined by one of Chris and Robbie's friends called Chris. He was VERY handsome and turned out to be actually really nice and very down to earth.
Suddenly, the excesses of last night caught up with us all. Matt started to wilt and Clive and Robbie said it was time to head home. I just started to feel VERY tired. Part of me didn't want to leave Chris on his own at the mercy of the men in the bar (he was getting a lot of attention) but even if I'd have got lucky with him I was too tired to have done him justice.
Steve, Clive, Robbie and myself left Matt and Chris to it and headed up to Oxford Street. Clive and Robbie headed home and Steve and I wandered down to Oxford Circus. We had a really funny chat all the way down Oxford Street before I got on the tube and he got the bus back to his place.
So then I got home and watched a bit of telly but there wasn't really anything good on so I stuck that Alan Carr DVD on again for a laugh and opened another bottle of wine.
I logged on here and found out that people out there are actually reading what I write and I've already got myself into trouble for being indiscreet... The whole point of this originally was to stick down the stuff I've been up to in an online diary and didn't expect anyone to really be at all interested or bother reading what I've written. It seems people are interested after all, and I think that even though I now realise I need to bear in mind other people's privacy in certain circumstances, I still don't want to feel like I have to edit what I write too much - otherwise it'll just be like writing another magazine article instead of an online diary. However, to the one person that I really like and should have been more discreet about I think I seriously need to apologise for anything I might have carelessly written and realise I need to be more careful in future.
So I'll catch up on Corrie and then head to bed and catch up on lost sleep.
I must get back to Manchester tomorrow. I can't leave it another day. It is New Year's Eve after all and Gerwyn is planning the party of all parties at his new flat and I'm sure that's not one to miss.
I went to meet Clive and Robbie at The Edge at 3pm and we downed several Bloody Mary's to get us going again. I made sure there was extra Tabasco and Wocestershire Sauce in there as well as a shot of sherry to make sure I was well and truly awake.
After a bit of boy watching we went down to Balan's (for a change) and had a really nice Christmas turkey dinner and a bottle of wine between us. The waiter from the other night when I was in with Ricardo was there and gave me a rye smile. There was also the stunning Eastern European waiter there who served me when I was in there with my actor friend Daon a few months back. He was so charming and is still such a good waiter - always where but never hanging around too much (though considering how good looking he is it was a bit of a shame he didn't hang around more).
Steve came in and joined us and then we went over to Ku Bar for a drink (there's a very cute new manager there - though he does look about 17). After that we all went over to Profile bar on Frith Street for another couple of drinks. Matt Joshua from QX Magazine was in there and it was great to see him. I've not seen him in ages so we had lots of catching up to do and remembering the old days of Thud Magazine back in the mid 90's.
There were some quite cute boys in there and Steve and I had great fun chatting to as many cute lads as we could find. Steve vanished for a bit with one nice lad and came back with a big smile on his face.
We were joined by one of Chris and Robbie's friends called Chris. He was VERY handsome and turned out to be actually really nice and very down to earth.
Suddenly, the excesses of last night caught up with us all. Matt started to wilt and Clive and Robbie said it was time to head home. I just started to feel VERY tired. Part of me didn't want to leave Chris on his own at the mercy of the men in the bar (he was getting a lot of attention) but even if I'd have got lucky with him I was too tired to have done him justice.
Steve, Clive, Robbie and myself left Matt and Chris to it and headed up to Oxford Street. Clive and Robbie headed home and Steve and I wandered down to Oxford Circus. We had a really funny chat all the way down Oxford Street before I got on the tube and he got the bus back to his place.
So then I got home and watched a bit of telly but there wasn't really anything good on so I stuck that Alan Carr DVD on again for a laugh and opened another bottle of wine.
I logged on here and found out that people out there are actually reading what I write and I've already got myself into trouble for being indiscreet... The whole point of this originally was to stick down the stuff I've been up to in an online diary and didn't expect anyone to really be at all interested or bother reading what I've written. It seems people are interested after all, and I think that even though I now realise I need to bear in mind other people's privacy in certain circumstances, I still don't want to feel like I have to edit what I write too much - otherwise it'll just be like writing another magazine article instead of an online diary. However, to the one person that I really like and should have been more discreet about I think I seriously need to apologise for anything I might have carelessly written and realise I need to be more careful in future.
So I'll catch up on Corrie and then head to bed and catch up on lost sleep.
I must get back to Manchester tomorrow. I can't leave it another day. It is New Year's Eve after all and Gerwyn is planning the party of all parties at his new flat and I'm sure that's not one to miss.
Saturday, 29 December 2007
'Lovely Tim' turns up in London
Lovely Tim (the inspiration for my dream in my first blog "Why Aren't Sex Dreams So Simple Anymore") turned up in London. What are the chances of that?
After an evening at Clive and Robbie's house I went to G.A.Y. to see what I could find. Tim walked past me. He looks a bit like the guy in the video below. But with a cheekier smile and eyes you can get lost in. I said hello, he seemed surprised to see me and we got chatting.
It was very nice to see him.
Hangover from hell the next morning though. Thank god for Bloody Mary's.
After an evening at Clive and Robbie's house I went to G.A.Y. to see what I could find. Tim walked past me. He looks a bit like the guy in the video below. But with a cheekier smile and eyes you can get lost in. I said hello, he seemed surprised to see me and we got chatting.
It was very nice to see him.
Hangover from hell the next morning though. Thank god for Bloody Mary's.
Buying a bed and asking an old friend out
So when I said - what's the worst that can happen... this is it.
I got to my friend Clive's flat in Euston and pressed the buzzer.
"Hello?" I heard.
"So you are in you bitch. Why didn't you answer your phone?" I said.
"What?"
"Clive it's Matthew."
"I think you've got the wrong flat."
"Is that flat 5? No? Oh god I'm really sorry mate."
(noise of phone being slammed down).
So then I call Clive on his mobile. And he answers for a change. Turns out he's in Soho seeing two Italian friends of his boyfriend Robbie. We agreed to maybe see each other later but if not then we'd grab a late lunch tomorrow.
I wandered down Tottenham Court Road and popped into Boots for antacid remedies. Why is it that whenever I end up in Boots I always spend half an hour there, looking at everything from teeth whitening systems (like I don't have ten at home already), anti-aging creams and self tanning?
Then I found myself in Heals. God I love Heals. It's all about the cat on the stairs (seriously - there's a statue of the Heal's cat on the stairwell).
"Can I help you?" I hear from the middle-aged man in polyester.
"I need a new bed. Like yesterday." I replied.
"We have beds. Anything in particular?" he asked.
"That one will do. Though let me look over there as well." I demanded.
It came down to 2 types of bed and he was doing a good deal on both if I took the display model with the mattress and mattress protector thrown in at half price. I wanted the stylish one but the first one had wooden slats as the head board that could fit handcuffs to and enough wood at the bottom of the bed to put a cup of tea on. What more could a British gay man want in a bed? I paid and arranged delivery for 7 January. Fabulous. I'm now the proud owner of a Heal's solid wood bed (with room for handcuffs and cups of tea).
So from there I went to G.A.Y. Bar. I walked through the bar and felt quite good at the amount of attention I got considering all I really went in there for was a pee. So I had a pee and went up to the bar (after taking off my jacket and checking that my pecs looked good enough).
I got a pint of lager. Cute bar man. I wandered away from the bar with the mental note "try to pick up the barman".
I wander off to where I usually stand near the stairs.
"Hello you. I thought it was you." said Ricardo.
Damn, it was good to see him. I have known Ricardo since about 1994. He's so cute. He used to hang around the Village Soho when Clive worked there (after I got him a job there). We used to flirt like mad but he was going out with Jonno at the time (another bar man at Village Soho back then and now a good friend).
Ricardo and I never can keep our hands off each other whenever we meet up. He's been living away from London for a year as well and so we had a lot of catching up chat. The whole time I was with him I wanted to kiss him. Both of us had hands everywhere and in the end I just told him, "God I want to kiss you right now".
Once we started we couldn't stop. To be honest I was really, really happy. We were having so much fun. Kissing, touching, chatting and just being cute.
I bought him drinks and he bought me drinks. I bought lager. He bought shots.
He asked me when I'm finally going to ask him out - it's been 13 years after all. I told him that I can't ask him out until I get the new Heal's bed.
We laughed it off but the more I thought about it (and the more I drank) the more I thought "You know I could do worse". I asked him out 'provisionally', because I didn't want to ask him out standing by a cash point at the end of the bar. I took him to Balan's so I could buy him dinner and then ask him out.
Unfortunately, once at Balan's I realised that he was really drunk. I realised that after I had bought us a bottle of rose champagne. We ordered Fois Gras to start, Tuna for him and Swordfish for me as a main and then creme brulee as pudding for us both. But by the time we got to pudding he was so drunk the waiter couldn't understand his order and he was knocking things off the table. Each time he went to the gents it was an age before he came back and when he did it was embarrassing watching him stagger around the room.
Eventually, I went to the gents and when I came back he was on the phone to someone saying 'you know your problem is that you can't let anyone close to you' and generally being loud and obnoxious. In the end I just paid the bill and left. He didn't seem to understand why I would be leaving but I couldn't handle him any more.
I walked down Old Compton Street and got on the bus. I started to feel bad for leaving Ricardo in Balan's. After all, I've liked him for 13 years and he likes me too. Should I be so fussy? After all I've been drunk before. When we're together we really do act like a couple in love (when he's not drunk and I'm not being judgmental).
Of course I don't have his new number. I assume he doesn't have mine. So there's nothing we can do. I hope he was OK after I left - I'm sure he was.
I went over to my friend Simon's. I called ahead but he didn't answer. I text messaged him but he didn't answer. I went round anyway. His flatmate Patrick answered the door and we had a chat for a bit before Simon came storming down the corridor in his pajama bottoms telling us to keep the noise down as he and his boyfriend Aled were trying to sleep.
I left. I walked home cursing London and how unfriendly people I even consider to be my friends can be. You wouldn't get that kind of reaction in Manchester. I hate that my friends in London just don't bother picking up the phone when I try to call, or responding to the message I leave, or even bothering to text back when I send a text or leave a message - so therefore I don't know where I stand or what is going on. I'd rather people I consider my best friends on earth would just answer calls or send a text to say 'you know what I can't see you today/I'm in bed/I'm not up to it today' or something rather than just not being arsed. Surely my best friends should know me well enough to know that it's FINE that they're busy, but they should have enough respect for me to let me know so that I can plan what to do instead.
As I walked home I got more and more upset. Then it started to rain. By the time I got home I was soaked and so I just got in and went to bed.
When I woke up this morning I felt really rough. I woke up to a text message from Simon apologising for being rude. I arranged to meet Clive for lunch and headed out to Basuba in Soho.
Let's see what happens this time round.
I got to my friend Clive's flat in Euston and pressed the buzzer.
"Hello?" I heard.
"So you are in you bitch. Why didn't you answer your phone?" I said.
"What?"
"Clive it's Matthew."
"I think you've got the wrong flat."
"Is that flat 5? No? Oh god I'm really sorry mate."
(noise of phone being slammed down).
So then I call Clive on his mobile. And he answers for a change. Turns out he's in Soho seeing two Italian friends of his boyfriend Robbie. We agreed to maybe see each other later but if not then we'd grab a late lunch tomorrow.
I wandered down Tottenham Court Road and popped into Boots for antacid remedies. Why is it that whenever I end up in Boots I always spend half an hour there, looking at everything from teeth whitening systems (like I don't have ten at home already), anti-aging creams and self tanning?
Then I found myself in Heals. God I love Heals. It's all about the cat on the stairs (seriously - there's a statue of the Heal's cat on the stairwell).
"Can I help you?" I hear from the middle-aged man in polyester.
"I need a new bed. Like yesterday." I replied.
"We have beds. Anything in particular?" he asked.
"That one will do. Though let me look over there as well." I demanded.
It came down to 2 types of bed and he was doing a good deal on both if I took the display model with the mattress and mattress protector thrown in at half price. I wanted the stylish one but the first one had wooden slats as the head board that could fit handcuffs to and enough wood at the bottom of the bed to put a cup of tea on. What more could a British gay man want in a bed? I paid and arranged delivery for 7 January. Fabulous. I'm now the proud owner of a Heal's solid wood bed (with room for handcuffs and cups of tea).
So from there I went to G.A.Y. Bar. I walked through the bar and felt quite good at the amount of attention I got considering all I really went in there for was a pee. So I had a pee and went up to the bar (after taking off my jacket and checking that my pecs looked good enough).
I got a pint of lager. Cute bar man. I wandered away from the bar with the mental note "try to pick up the barman".
I wander off to where I usually stand near the stairs.
"Hello you. I thought it was you." said Ricardo.
Damn, it was good to see him. I have known Ricardo since about 1994. He's so cute. He used to hang around the Village Soho when Clive worked there (after I got him a job there). We used to flirt like mad but he was going out with Jonno at the time (another bar man at Village Soho back then and now a good friend).
Ricardo and I never can keep our hands off each other whenever we meet up. He's been living away from London for a year as well and so we had a lot of catching up chat. The whole time I was with him I wanted to kiss him. Both of us had hands everywhere and in the end I just told him, "God I want to kiss you right now".
Once we started we couldn't stop. To be honest I was really, really happy. We were having so much fun. Kissing, touching, chatting and just being cute.
I bought him drinks and he bought me drinks. I bought lager. He bought shots.
He asked me when I'm finally going to ask him out - it's been 13 years after all. I told him that I can't ask him out until I get the new Heal's bed.
We laughed it off but the more I thought about it (and the more I drank) the more I thought "You know I could do worse". I asked him out 'provisionally', because I didn't want to ask him out standing by a cash point at the end of the bar. I took him to Balan's so I could buy him dinner and then ask him out.
Unfortunately, once at Balan's I realised that he was really drunk. I realised that after I had bought us a bottle of rose champagne. We ordered Fois Gras to start, Tuna for him and Swordfish for me as a main and then creme brulee as pudding for us both. But by the time we got to pudding he was so drunk the waiter couldn't understand his order and he was knocking things off the table. Each time he went to the gents it was an age before he came back and when he did it was embarrassing watching him stagger around the room.
Eventually, I went to the gents and when I came back he was on the phone to someone saying 'you know your problem is that you can't let anyone close to you' and generally being loud and obnoxious. In the end I just paid the bill and left. He didn't seem to understand why I would be leaving but I couldn't handle him any more.
I walked down Old Compton Street and got on the bus. I started to feel bad for leaving Ricardo in Balan's. After all, I've liked him for 13 years and he likes me too. Should I be so fussy? After all I've been drunk before. When we're together we really do act like a couple in love (when he's not drunk and I'm not being judgmental).
Of course I don't have his new number. I assume he doesn't have mine. So there's nothing we can do. I hope he was OK after I left - I'm sure he was.
I went over to my friend Simon's. I called ahead but he didn't answer. I text messaged him but he didn't answer. I went round anyway. His flatmate Patrick answered the door and we had a chat for a bit before Simon came storming down the corridor in his pajama bottoms telling us to keep the noise down as he and his boyfriend Aled were trying to sleep.
I left. I walked home cursing London and how unfriendly people I even consider to be my friends can be. You wouldn't get that kind of reaction in Manchester. I hate that my friends in London just don't bother picking up the phone when I try to call, or responding to the message I leave, or even bothering to text back when I send a text or leave a message - so therefore I don't know where I stand or what is going on. I'd rather people I consider my best friends on earth would just answer calls or send a text to say 'you know what I can't see you today/I'm in bed/I'm not up to it today' or something rather than just not being arsed. Surely my best friends should know me well enough to know that it's FINE that they're busy, but they should have enough respect for me to let me know so that I can plan what to do instead.
As I walked home I got more and more upset. Then it started to rain. By the time I got home I was soaked and so I just got in and went to bed.
When I woke up this morning I felt really rough. I woke up to a text message from Simon apologising for being rude. I arranged to meet Clive for lunch and headed out to Basuba in Soho.
Let's see what happens this time round.
Friday, 28 December 2007
Being filmed for Channel 5
After a rotten night's sleep (it's amazing how noisy night time in London is compared to the peace of an evening in Manchester) I got up about 2 hours before the camera crew were turning up to film my intro for the Channel 5 show where Martin Lewis (the very sexy money expert from GMTV who I've fancied for ages) shows me how to get cut price gym membership thanks to Prudential Health Insurance.
I'd just got myself and the flat looking half decent when they arrived and they set up the camera and sound equipment to film my bit. I sat on the sofa (if they'd known the action that sofa has seen they might have wanted to put down a top sheet first) and got miked up.
Even though the self shooting P/D (Producer/Director) was asking the questions I had to respond the the AP (Assistant Producer) who was sitting by the camera to give me a good eye line. It helped that the AP was quite easy on the eye.
We ran through a couple of lines and I'm proud to say that they were really impressed with how well I did and it was pretty much one take per section. You'd have thought I'd done this kind of thing before.
Then we did a few cutaways of me typing, looking at the Prudential website as I looked up my quote and some shots of my face, eyes and fingers on the keyboard and mouse. Then we did some other cut aways of me flicking through Men's Health 'looking for tips on how to get a better body'.
It was all quite fun and I admit it was nice to be back in front of the camera again. The last time I did anything like that was my Optimax laser vision correction advert a few years back.
So off they went to their next bit of the shoot at a gym and I played some online scrabble with my friend Eric. I tried to get hold of Clive to see if he wanted to go to lunch but he wasn't answering his phone so I got a pizza from the freezer and went to the shop downstairs for a bottle of wine. The guy behind the counter asked how I was and when I was coming back to London full time so I said it might be soon. He said that he'd seen men with camera equipment going in the door earlier on and asked what that was all for. I told him but I'm sure he just thought I was filming porn from the look on his face.
Then after watching a bit of Will and Grace while having a couple of glasses of wine with my pizza I decided to head into town and see what trouble I can get into in Soho of a Friday night.
We'll see shall we?
I'd just got myself and the flat looking half decent when they arrived and they set up the camera and sound equipment to film my bit. I sat on the sofa (if they'd known the action that sofa has seen they might have wanted to put down a top sheet first) and got miked up.
Even though the self shooting P/D (Producer/Director) was asking the questions I had to respond the the AP (Assistant Producer) who was sitting by the camera to give me a good eye line. It helped that the AP was quite easy on the eye.
We ran through a couple of lines and I'm proud to say that they were really impressed with how well I did and it was pretty much one take per section. You'd have thought I'd done this kind of thing before.
Then we did a few cutaways of me typing, looking at the Prudential website as I looked up my quote and some shots of my face, eyes and fingers on the keyboard and mouse. Then we did some other cut aways of me flicking through Men's Health 'looking for tips on how to get a better body'.
It was all quite fun and I admit it was nice to be back in front of the camera again. The last time I did anything like that was my Optimax laser vision correction advert a few years back.
So off they went to their next bit of the shoot at a gym and I played some online scrabble with my friend Eric. I tried to get hold of Clive to see if he wanted to go to lunch but he wasn't answering his phone so I got a pizza from the freezer and went to the shop downstairs for a bottle of wine. The guy behind the counter asked how I was and when I was coming back to London full time so I said it might be soon. He said that he'd seen men with camera equipment going in the door earlier on and asked what that was all for. I told him but I'm sure he just thought I was filming porn from the look on his face.
Then after watching a bit of Will and Grace while having a couple of glasses of wine with my pizza I decided to head into town and see what trouble I can get into in Soho of a Friday night.
We'll see shall we?
Thursday, 27 December 2007
Back to London (eventually)
I woke up this morning determined to get to London as early as possible to beat the rush and deal with whatever intercity travel could throw at me.
However, it was raining and there was left-over trifle and champagne to be had. Is it wrong to be washing down Christmas trifle with champagne at 10am? It would only have gone flat before I got back anyway and who wants to drink flat champagne (doesn't that just turn into 'wine' if it's bubbly free?) so I was just being environmentally friendly. Or something.
So with one thing and another (cleaning the flat, doing the dishes, watching that Alan Carr DVD again and going to ASDA to get enough dried cat food to keep Spirit and Sable from eating the neighbours until Sunday at least), I ended up leaving the flat at around 3.30pm and getting to Manchester Piccadilly for just before 4pm. I bought my ticket at one of those 'fast track ticket machines' and climbed up to the main station.
Where was my train? Where was any train to London? I searched the departure board over and over again. Liverpool Lime Street and Llandudno were up there but no London. Had terrorists finally got the capital and wiped it off the map while I'd been scrubbing scrambled egg from the bottom of my pans in the sink?
I joined a queue. Well, I am British after all and it's what we do. After a while I saw a lady in a hi-viz jacket and a clip board who looked like she might be able to tell me what was going on. Being British and hating to leave a perfectly good queue I waited about ten minutes before being brave enough to go and speak to her. She told me what I'd been dreading. Due to over running rail works at Rugby there were no direct trains to London today. Or tomorrow. In fact there are no direct trains now until 2nd January - is that possible?
So I queued up (again) for the train to Sheffield. However, when it arrived there were only 2 carriages and about 200 people (most of them single mothers with 20 bags from Primark and pushchairs full of screaming kids) so I graciously backed away and went to find the next train to Sheffield that I could be at the front of a queue for. It was on platform 14 but that was changed randomly to platform 4 at the last minute. Fortunately that gave me the chance to explain circumstances to a rather Josh Hartnett looking boy and his chubby friend with a strange laugh (imagine 8 year old girl being squeezed through a mangle while being tickled with ostrich feathers and you get the idea).
Eventually we were on the train to Sheffield. It was a 'Transpennine Express' so I was thinking at least there'd be views of mountains and sheep. But no - it was dark now and pouring with rain so all I could see was black. It was like being on the Starship Enterprise and hoping to see a black hole out there that might just take me away from all this.
And to use the word 'Express' was a joke. In fact it's such a joke that as we neared Sheffield, we were informed that because the train was so slow we'd now missed the train to London and were advised to continue on to Doncaster where there'd be a London train in about another hour or so.
So I sat there. Trying to move about in my seat so I could get a view of the boy who looks like Josh Harnett but instead only getting the sight of his chubby friends with the laugh. And there was a girl a few seats down who was talking loudly on the phone. She had a very attractive boyfriend (in a scally kind of way) but she didn't seem to be able to start any sentence without prefixing it with the words 'Why don't you...' or 'Why can't you...' and I wanted to kill her for it.
For example:
"Why haven't you called me already? Well I'm on the train now"
"Why don't you come and meet me here then?"
"Why don't you watch a DVD while you're waiting?"
"Why don't you ask her over then?"
"Why don't you get a curry in?"
"Why don't I get a curry on the way then?"
"Why don't you have a pizza instead then?"
"Why don't you decide what you want and we'll get it when I get there?"
"Why hasn't she been put to bed already?"
"Why didn't you call him earlier about that?"
"Why don't you just tell me about it later then?"
I felt like saying "why don't you get off that phone you nasty little chav in hoop earrings and a bad nylon top and stare out of the window like the rest of us before I jam your head in that Primark bag till you stop breathing and then show your boyfriend what a real blow job feels like!"
But of course I didn't.
So eventually we got to Doncaster. The tannoy says there's a train to King's Cross in about 10 minutes so I scurried about the platform trying to get an idea of what Doncaster looks like (from what I can tell it's a building site with a car park and a bus station) before joining the rest of the scrum onto the train that turned up. I grabbed a seat and stared up into the eyes of a very handsome man with nice hair and amazing arms. He was sitting across from me and however hard I tried not to stare I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, we were soon surrounded by other passengers who got on the train at Doncaster as well.
Well all hell broke loose. It turns out that it's a first class only train and we're not welcome with our standard tickets. Eventually we were told we could travel but we're not allowed to sit down as that's for first class ticket holders only. I managed to talk nicely to the train manager and he allowed me to sit down in the next carriage if there's a seat free. I had to bid farewell to the handsome man with the arms and what a sad moment that was I must say.
I took my seat and looked around me. Directly across from me was a good looking young gay man on his lap top and to the side of me were two very handsome Yorkshire men on their way to London. One looked like he should be the dashing young love interest in a BBC Dickensian drama and the other looked like Danny Dyer. They were busy discussing whether or not you can get a 17 year old to go 'all the way' if it's on holiday instead of at home.
Happy with my lot, I enjoyed the rest of my journey to London in first class, surrounded by good looking men with nice hair and good skin. Once at King's Cross I got the tube back to Finsbury Park and climbed the stairs to my flat. After a brief inspection all seemed to be well and despite the mountain of post that I decided to go through tomorrow (probably unpaid bills, council tax and court orders), I settled down to watch Extras, Lara Croft and The Queen (all at the same time) with a bottle of Shiraz Rose.
I'd best get to bed as I've got this film crew arriving at 9.30am to film the first bit of the Channel 5 thing with Martin Lewis. I can't have bags under my eyes while on camera after all.
However, it was raining and there was left-over trifle and champagne to be had. Is it wrong to be washing down Christmas trifle with champagne at 10am? It would only have gone flat before I got back anyway and who wants to drink flat champagne (doesn't that just turn into 'wine' if it's bubbly free?) so I was just being environmentally friendly. Or something.
So with one thing and another (cleaning the flat, doing the dishes, watching that Alan Carr DVD again and going to ASDA to get enough dried cat food to keep Spirit and Sable from eating the neighbours until Sunday at least), I ended up leaving the flat at around 3.30pm and getting to Manchester Piccadilly for just before 4pm. I bought my ticket at one of those 'fast track ticket machines' and climbed up to the main station.
Where was my train? Where was any train to London? I searched the departure board over and over again. Liverpool Lime Street and Llandudno were up there but no London. Had terrorists finally got the capital and wiped it off the map while I'd been scrubbing scrambled egg from the bottom of my pans in the sink?
I joined a queue. Well, I am British after all and it's what we do. After a while I saw a lady in a hi-viz jacket and a clip board who looked like she might be able to tell me what was going on. Being British and hating to leave a perfectly good queue I waited about ten minutes before being brave enough to go and speak to her. She told me what I'd been dreading. Due to over running rail works at Rugby there were no direct trains to London today. Or tomorrow. In fact there are no direct trains now until 2nd January - is that possible?
So I queued up (again) for the train to Sheffield. However, when it arrived there were only 2 carriages and about 200 people (most of them single mothers with 20 bags from Primark and pushchairs full of screaming kids) so I graciously backed away and went to find the next train to Sheffield that I could be at the front of a queue for. It was on platform 14 but that was changed randomly to platform 4 at the last minute. Fortunately that gave me the chance to explain circumstances to a rather Josh Hartnett looking boy and his chubby friend with a strange laugh (imagine 8 year old girl being squeezed through a mangle while being tickled with ostrich feathers and you get the idea).
Eventually we were on the train to Sheffield. It was a 'Transpennine Express' so I was thinking at least there'd be views of mountains and sheep. But no - it was dark now and pouring with rain so all I could see was black. It was like being on the Starship Enterprise and hoping to see a black hole out there that might just take me away from all this.
And to use the word 'Express' was a joke. In fact it's such a joke that as we neared Sheffield, we were informed that because the train was so slow we'd now missed the train to London and were advised to continue on to Doncaster where there'd be a London train in about another hour or so.
So I sat there. Trying to move about in my seat so I could get a view of the boy who looks like Josh Harnett but instead only getting the sight of his chubby friends with the laugh. And there was a girl a few seats down who was talking loudly on the phone. She had a very attractive boyfriend (in a scally kind of way) but she didn't seem to be able to start any sentence without prefixing it with the words 'Why don't you...' or 'Why can't you...' and I wanted to kill her for it.
For example:
"Why haven't you called me already? Well I'm on the train now"
"Why don't you come and meet me here then?"
"Why don't you watch a DVD while you're waiting?"
"Why don't you ask her over then?"
"Why don't you get a curry in?"
"Why don't I get a curry on the way then?"
"Why don't you have a pizza instead then?"
"Why don't you decide what you want and we'll get it when I get there?"
"Why hasn't she been put to bed already?"
"Why didn't you call him earlier about that?"
"Why don't you just tell me about it later then?"
I felt like saying "why don't you get off that phone you nasty little chav in hoop earrings and a bad nylon top and stare out of the window like the rest of us before I jam your head in that Primark bag till you stop breathing and then show your boyfriend what a real blow job feels like!"
But of course I didn't.
So eventually we got to Doncaster. The tannoy says there's a train to King's Cross in about 10 minutes so I scurried about the platform trying to get an idea of what Doncaster looks like (from what I can tell it's a building site with a car park and a bus station) before joining the rest of the scrum onto the train that turned up. I grabbed a seat and stared up into the eyes of a very handsome man with nice hair and amazing arms. He was sitting across from me and however hard I tried not to stare I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, we were soon surrounded by other passengers who got on the train at Doncaster as well.
Well all hell broke loose. It turns out that it's a first class only train and we're not welcome with our standard tickets. Eventually we were told we could travel but we're not allowed to sit down as that's for first class ticket holders only. I managed to talk nicely to the train manager and he allowed me to sit down in the next carriage if there's a seat free. I had to bid farewell to the handsome man with the arms and what a sad moment that was I must say.
I took my seat and looked around me. Directly across from me was a good looking young gay man on his lap top and to the side of me were two very handsome Yorkshire men on their way to London. One looked like he should be the dashing young love interest in a BBC Dickensian drama and the other looked like Danny Dyer. They were busy discussing whether or not you can get a 17 year old to go 'all the way' if it's on holiday instead of at home.
Happy with my lot, I enjoyed the rest of my journey to London in first class, surrounded by good looking men with nice hair and good skin. Once at King's Cross I got the tube back to Finsbury Park and climbed the stairs to my flat. After a brief inspection all seemed to be well and despite the mountain of post that I decided to go through tomorrow (probably unpaid bills, council tax and court orders), I settled down to watch Extras, Lara Croft and The Queen (all at the same time) with a bottle of Shiraz Rose.
I'd best get to bed as I've got this film crew arriving at 9.30am to film the first bit of the Channel 5 thing with Martin Lewis. I can't have bags under my eyes while on camera after all.
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
Beating Boxing Day Boredom
What is it about Boxing Day? It's almost always dull as fuck and always feels like an anti-climax, no matter how bad Christmas was.
I've had flu for days and spent last night feeling ill. Considering it's Christmas that's not really how you want to spend the festive period now is it? Today I feel better but what is there to do? Do I 'go for a nice walk' or 'hit the sales' - two things I'd rather avoid if I'm honest.
Instead, here I am sitting in my living room with 'The Muppet Christmas Show' on TV (it's actually turning out to be quite entertaining - although it pains me to admit it) and wondering what to have for lunch - let's face it there's plenty of food left over from yesterday (in fact there's lots of stuff I never even opened and might go off if not dealt with soon).
Don't get me wrong - yesterday was a great Christmas Day. Quite unexpectedly.
Having opted for a Manchester Christmas instead of my usual London Christmas, I had been sure I'd be offered endless ways to spend the big day but it turned out most of my friends were off seeing family and even though I had an invite from a guy I've been seeing 'casually while he deals with his issues surrounding his ex', I wasn't sure that his friend who was hosting the dinner and is a friend of 'The Ex' would appreciate me turning up unannounced. And as I ended up catching a nasty cold from another friend last week, I was quite happy to sit at home and feel sorry for myself on Christmas Day.
Having spent Christmas Eve unable to sleep thanks to a block nose and painful sinuses, I nearly went to bed after spending the morning drinking glass after glass of Buck's Fizz - for medicinal purposes you understand - but thought I'd make the effort to pop a quick Christmas Card over to my friend's Gar and Alex before getting a little lie down.
To my surprise, they were in and cooking Christmas dinner for another friend, Jon. They asked if I'd like to stay and even though I'd already accepted my fate of being alone at home for Christmas, it was actually really lovely of them to ask and I gladly accepted. I rushed home and tarted myself up a bit and then went back round with some offerings of my own and settled in for a lovely meal and day's entertainment watching films that seemed to go on all day long and then Dr. Who (with Kylie guest starring fabulously).
After that I started to get aches and pains again so headed back across the car park to my flat to watch Eastenders and Corrie while slowly getting iller and iller. By the time To The Manor Born came on I was a shivering wreck and feeling as if I was about to die on Christmas Day.
However, after a sleeping pill and an extra blanket on the bed I've woken up feeling much better today and now I'm at a loss what to do with myself. If I were in London, then I'd be able to go to my friend Clive's Boxing Day party at his house - though I'm sure I'd end up with Colombian flu the following day after an evening of telling everyone how great they are and how much I appreciate them as friends. Or I could go and see Hairspray with my other friends Eric and Tom (if I could get a last minute extra ticket of course).
But no. I'm in Manchester under a weakly cloud covered sky watching The Muppet Christmas Show (which isn't now as good as it was when I said it was a minute ago).
At least tomorrow I have to get the train to London so that on Friday morning I can film the first bit of a Channel 5 programme I'm appearing in alongside Martin Lewis the money expert in January - so I can look forward to standing room only all the way to London and back again on Friday afternoon.
That still leaves me with the question - what the hell does a gay man in Manchester do with himself on Boxing Day? Well, if all else fails, once I've stopped watching The Muppets of course, there's always the rest of that bottle of port and some porn to keep me going I guess.
I've had flu for days and spent last night feeling ill. Considering it's Christmas that's not really how you want to spend the festive period now is it? Today I feel better but what is there to do? Do I 'go for a nice walk' or 'hit the sales' - two things I'd rather avoid if I'm honest.
Instead, here I am sitting in my living room with 'The Muppet Christmas Show' on TV (it's actually turning out to be quite entertaining - although it pains me to admit it) and wondering what to have for lunch - let's face it there's plenty of food left over from yesterday (in fact there's lots of stuff I never even opened and might go off if not dealt with soon).
Don't get me wrong - yesterday was a great Christmas Day. Quite unexpectedly.
Having opted for a Manchester Christmas instead of my usual London Christmas, I had been sure I'd be offered endless ways to spend the big day but it turned out most of my friends were off seeing family and even though I had an invite from a guy I've been seeing 'casually while he deals with his issues surrounding his ex', I wasn't sure that his friend who was hosting the dinner and is a friend of 'The Ex' would appreciate me turning up unannounced. And as I ended up catching a nasty cold from another friend last week, I was quite happy to sit at home and feel sorry for myself on Christmas Day.
Having spent Christmas Eve unable to sleep thanks to a block nose and painful sinuses, I nearly went to bed after spending the morning drinking glass after glass of Buck's Fizz - for medicinal purposes you understand - but thought I'd make the effort to pop a quick Christmas Card over to my friend's Gar and Alex before getting a little lie down.
To my surprise, they were in and cooking Christmas dinner for another friend, Jon. They asked if I'd like to stay and even though I'd already accepted my fate of being alone at home for Christmas, it was actually really lovely of them to ask and I gladly accepted. I rushed home and tarted myself up a bit and then went back round with some offerings of my own and settled in for a lovely meal and day's entertainment watching films that seemed to go on all day long and then Dr. Who (with Kylie guest starring fabulously).
After that I started to get aches and pains again so headed back across the car park to my flat to watch Eastenders and Corrie while slowly getting iller and iller. By the time To The Manor Born came on I was a shivering wreck and feeling as if I was about to die on Christmas Day.
However, after a sleeping pill and an extra blanket on the bed I've woken up feeling much better today and now I'm at a loss what to do with myself. If I were in London, then I'd be able to go to my friend Clive's Boxing Day party at his house - though I'm sure I'd end up with Colombian flu the following day after an evening of telling everyone how great they are and how much I appreciate them as friends. Or I could go and see Hairspray with my other friends Eric and Tom (if I could get a last minute extra ticket of course).
But no. I'm in Manchester under a weakly cloud covered sky watching The Muppet Christmas Show (which isn't now as good as it was when I said it was a minute ago).
At least tomorrow I have to get the train to London so that on Friday morning I can film the first bit of a Channel 5 programme I'm appearing in alongside Martin Lewis the money expert in January - so I can look forward to standing room only all the way to London and back again on Friday afternoon.
That still leaves me with the question - what the hell does a gay man in Manchester do with himself on Boxing Day? Well, if all else fails, once I've stopped watching The Muppets of course, there's always the rest of that bottle of port and some porn to keep me going I guess.
Why aren't sex dreams so simple anymore?
Do you ever have sex dreams? Dreams of wildly kissing someone you know, or some made up person you've never met, before ripping off clothes and throwing each other around in the height of passion?
I used to have sex dreams. These days I'm having 'romance dreams' instead.
I've just woken up and in the back of my mind there is a man with soft, dark hair and blue eyes called Andy. Or it could have been Gary. Or maybe Tim. No I'm pretty sure he was Andy. Unfortunately Andy is drifting off like a passing stranger's cigarette smoke - lingering and twisting into the air, but slowly vanishing and leaving you alone.
I think that in the dream, Andy and I met at a party or in a bar. It was an early summer's evening and while by the window, Andy and I were drawn together and flirted gently. I felt engulfed by him. His blue eyes, dark hair and kissable lips. He was taller than me, I remember that. And then for some reason we arranged to meet up later as we were torn apart by friends who wanted us both to meet other people. Then, in the dream and for no apparent reason, I started drawing a picture of him.
In the picture he was dressed as a war time post man wearing a dark blue jacket and a postman's hat, facing away from me but with his head turned so I could see his profile. Somehow, my fingers were flowing across the page with a pencil and all the colours were appearing in the right place. I was standing on some metal fire escape styled stairs while I did it and I knew I was late to meet him. Even though we hadn't arranged it, I felt sure that Andy was in the bar upstairs but I had to finish this picture of him. My friends commented over my shoulder what a great picture it was but other people's voices were telling me I was late. I knew I'd be a fool to miss seeing Andy again and so I started up the stairs towards the room above me.
However, as I got halfway up the stairs I heard Andy's voice behind me saying 'stop the clock' (too much Treasure Hunt as a child I fear) and I turned around to see that he'd been just one step down from where I'd been standing all along and I'd never known he was there. There was a smile and I think a feeling of joy in just seeing him again but that was where the dream ended and now I'm remembering less and less of him and the magic that we shared.
For some reason I feel as though I've lost something - a chance of another kiss from such a handsome man who could make my heart melt with just a smile.
I get this kind of dream all the time now. I'm no longer being thrown onto beds by men I've seen at some point in my day or having fictional handsome blond men with great bodies and perfect tans pushing me against my mother's bathroom wall. Those were the dream men of my 20s and now this is the 30-something replacement dream.
I think Andy was a mix of an actor called Tom Ellis who I'd seen in Doctor Who, another actor called Matthew Needham from Casualty and a man called Tim (or Lovely Tim as I called him in response to being called Handsome Matt) who I spoke to on Sunday night outside Via Fossa after an evening of furtive glances and gentle flirting from afar, despite him then having a row with his boyfriend over the whole thing as a result.
There's even now a part of me which resents Andy for having appeared in my dream and then leaving me like this. There'll be another Andy in another dream soon enough I'm sure and although he might disappear into thin air once I wake up, at least he'll never leave me for someone else, break my heart or think we're better off being 'just friends'.
I used to have sex dreams. These days I'm having 'romance dreams' instead.
I've just woken up and in the back of my mind there is a man with soft, dark hair and blue eyes called Andy. Or it could have been Gary. Or maybe Tim. No I'm pretty sure he was Andy. Unfortunately Andy is drifting off like a passing stranger's cigarette smoke - lingering and twisting into the air, but slowly vanishing and leaving you alone.
I think that in the dream, Andy and I met at a party or in a bar. It was an early summer's evening and while by the window, Andy and I were drawn together and flirted gently. I felt engulfed by him. His blue eyes, dark hair and kissable lips. He was taller than me, I remember that. And then for some reason we arranged to meet up later as we were torn apart by friends who wanted us both to meet other people. Then, in the dream and for no apparent reason, I started drawing a picture of him.
In the picture he was dressed as a war time post man wearing a dark blue jacket and a postman's hat, facing away from me but with his head turned so I could see his profile. Somehow, my fingers were flowing across the page with a pencil and all the colours were appearing in the right place. I was standing on some metal fire escape styled stairs while I did it and I knew I was late to meet him. Even though we hadn't arranged it, I felt sure that Andy was in the bar upstairs but I had to finish this picture of him. My friends commented over my shoulder what a great picture it was but other people's voices were telling me I was late. I knew I'd be a fool to miss seeing Andy again and so I started up the stairs towards the room above me.
However, as I got halfway up the stairs I heard Andy's voice behind me saying 'stop the clock' (too much Treasure Hunt as a child I fear) and I turned around to see that he'd been just one step down from where I'd been standing all along and I'd never known he was there. There was a smile and I think a feeling of joy in just seeing him again but that was where the dream ended and now I'm remembering less and less of him and the magic that we shared.
For some reason I feel as though I've lost something - a chance of another kiss from such a handsome man who could make my heart melt with just a smile.
I get this kind of dream all the time now. I'm no longer being thrown onto beds by men I've seen at some point in my day or having fictional handsome blond men with great bodies and perfect tans pushing me against my mother's bathroom wall. Those were the dream men of my 20s and now this is the 30-something replacement dream.
I think Andy was a mix of an actor called Tom Ellis who I'd seen in Doctor Who, another actor called Matthew Needham from Casualty and a man called Tim (or Lovely Tim as I called him in response to being called Handsome Matt) who I spoke to on Sunday night outside Via Fossa after an evening of furtive glances and gentle flirting from afar, despite him then having a row with his boyfriend over the whole thing as a result.
There's even now a part of me which resents Andy for having appeared in my dream and then leaving me like this. There'll be another Andy in another dream soon enough I'm sure and although he might disappear into thin air once I wake up, at least he'll never leave me for someone else, break my heart or think we're better off being 'just friends'.
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