Hmm, I didn't realise how the Eurovision selection process was working, but it seems four of the eight songs are through to the next round. I didn't give my predictions for four songs, and I'm kicking myself now, 'cos I got three out of four correct.

My list was:

Do Anything For Your Love
Ever Since That Night
Wait For The Moment
Cry Baby

The only one I got wrong was Do Anything For Your Love - and not that you believe me now anyway, the one that did make the cut, Help Me, was starting to grow on me, despite the Charlotte Church vocals.

So, just to make sure I've got my vote registered - it's a tenner each way on Tricity with Cry Baby.

posted at 10:50 PM •

I got bored. I bought Lemon Jelly and got inspired to do a new design (thanks DG for the recommendation).

Comments?

posted at 7:24 PM •

Blog funk is passing...

How god-damn sexy is Cristian Solimeno? I've never been able to watch an episode of Footballers' Wives, but this spunk has not passed me by. He shoots, he scores...fnar

Update Oh my. When I asked Diamond Geezer if he had shower-scene screen-grabs of Mr. Solimeno, I never dreamt he'd be able to deliver. PHWOAR - go on my son!
Caution - mildy unsafe for work.

posted at 4:04 PM •

Really don't feel like blogging today, which upsets me, because it's been going so well this week. Really lovely compliment from Mike over at troubled-diva made me blush with pride yesterday, but by the end of the day I was re-examining my motives for writing this journal. One of the things that's emerged from writing creatively every day is it's given me a bit of discipline that was a bit lacking in my life. The knock on effect from that is that it's enabled me to get my ass into gear in other areas of my life - well, begin to anyway.

For instance, Better Half and I bought our flat over a year ago now. It's one comfort to me that my mum got to see both her children owning their own houses before she died - it's something her and Dad never managed, partly because of the lifestyle in the RAF. We moved around every three years, a lifestyle I grew up with until the age of eleven, and never thought to question. I'd lived in six houses by the age of eleven, and had gone to five different schools.

I remember quite well the few weeks in limbo we would spend moving from one house to the next. We'd get these HUGE packing crates, everything would be wrapped in newspaper, parcelled carefully, and sent on ahead. Mum would clean the house to within an inch of it's brickwork from top to bottom. One time we had to move into a married quarters annex - basically a small hostel, while we cleared out the old house. At that age, everything was so exciting and fascinating.

One of the many things that mum passed on to me is extremely high standards of tidiness and cleanliness - well, she passed them on to me, and I'm keeping those standards safe until I need them. We had lived in our flat in East London for about two years before we bought it. The flat came part-furnished - and part-finished too - sloping walls and ceilings, shonky partition walls thrown up. There's a lot of work that needs doing in the flat, but we're not professional property developers*, and after buying the flat I'd maxed out my credit card and overdraft, so we couldn't afford to do the work anyway.

Slowly but surely though, things are starting to get done. Getting rid of the old sofa last week was something I've been looking forward to for a year - nasty bloody thing it was - orange swirly fabric, 4 inch cushions thrown over a mediaeval base of metal bars and leatherique straps. It would contort into the most uncomfortable piece of furniture unless you sat on it just so and didn't move from that spot. Lying out on the sofa was a difficult procedure, and cuddling up next to each other was out of the question. So, last night, feeling fairly energetic from a rewarding day of blogging, I managed to get the last flat-pack wardrobe cluttering up the living room dismantled, and start to plan that next bit. It's only taken us three years - maybe in another three, we'll actually start to have something that even my mum could be proud of.

So, good poofs on a budget that we are, it's off to Ikea on Sunday.

*That programme on C4 before Wife Swap - Property Ladder - is really starting to get on my tits..."and so Alan and Jocasta managed to make a grand total of £8000 profit, by inflating local property prices and adding to the misery of young couples who can't get their first step up".

posted at 9:15 AM •

My first Eurovision post. Big thanks to the Eurovision Song Contest daddy, Mike for the heads-up yesterday.

Might be because it's a tearful thursday, but I hate these less than I did on first listening yesterday. I'm going to completely disagree with Mike though - here's my run-down of the UK hopefuls. (Download them as mp3s from here or Realmedia streams here)

Do Anything For Your Love
Starts off in the fairly standard UK eurovision entry style - a smidge too contemporary, but soon decends to a fairly catchy chorus. There's some definite vocoder there isn't there? This sounds slightly Dutch or Belgian, the group sounds as if they're singing it in english as their second language. Would probably improve being sung in Flemish. No essential key change here...but it's a got a few other ingredients our continental neighbours may like - hell, they've probably only just heard vocoder.

Ever Since That Night
Arsebiscuits - the warblosynth effect makes me want to retch. It builds up pleasingly enough however, but hmmm - vocoderiffic...a possible theme here for the UK hopefuls? It's going OK until the second chorus, with the gut-wrenching use of "When Juliet met Romeo, no-one ever let them know, their love would end in tragedy' - even Wilson Philips managed better than this. Loses points for the downbeat ending - where was the fireworks/glitter cue? Next...

First Night
More warblosynth...what is all this? It'll be vocodering in a minute. Sounds like a substandard mediterranean or central europe entry. I'm expecting a fat bloke to come out and start rapping Aqua style over the top of this. Oh - it was a girl. Not eurovision enough - trying too hard to be 'street'.

Wait For The Moment
A slow one...reminiscent of the Scandinavian entries (Denmark in particular) from 2002. "Absence makes the heart grow stronger, it also makes the pain last longer" - Jesus, OK so it's eurovision, but do we have to put up with this crap? I never know with slow ones - I suspect there is some formula that's used to work out whether one will win in any given year. Thank god, finally a key change - don't these songwriters learn that you need a key change to win? Actually not bad, as long as no-one listens to the lyrics. Now if we can find a blind quadraplegic to sing it....

Cry Baby
More mediterranean guitars - let's keep it continental eh folks? Actually this vaguely reminds me of Malta and Latvia's entires from last year, which I both liked (in a eurovision way). Oo, big chorus, with baby-moroder synthing. Shit - I'm actually bopping to this - definite strutting around the stage in a huge purple frock potential (that's the singer, not me). No-one will give a shit about the lyrics, and the med countries will like the guitars. Good spangly ending with half a key change - good fireworks/glitter cue - could there even be a costume change there?

Help Me
Another slow one. Is that Charlotte Church singing? Anodyne in a eurovision kinda way. Piss poor chorus, with tremendously obvious linking lyrics - when you can understand them. This is really making my ears bleed - seriously - make it stop. This sounds like a theme tune for a really awful US sitcom possibly starring the blonde dizzy one from 'Golden Girls'.

Smile
I know there's going to be a vocoder any minute. Isn't this chirpy? Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa. Can't we give this to the Greeks - or maybe Russia? They'll like this. Yay - vocoder - I knew it - and oo, wow, and someone found the kettle drum setting on the drum machine - fab.

Rainy Day In Summer
Points if it's raining on the night i suppose. We're trying to be down with the kids aren't we again? God, this sounds like some kind of fucking Hearsay reject. Is that Noel? Blech. "Chilling with my lover". Is this what happened to Love City Groove?

Considering the current political climate, I'm not sure of our chances this year (and you thought eurovision was about songs? Naive fool) - but I guess that depends on what happens in the next few months. Anyway - I'm going to go with Cry Baby, apparently written by the white-goods sounding Tricity. As a second choice, I'll go for Wait For The Moment. I don't think either of them is a winner though. We shall have to wait till May 22nd to see.

posted at 12:14 PM •

Just for Jon, here's a nummy picture of Colin Farrell (who, just in case my mystery reader from yesterday is here - is 5'11"). Now, I'm not usually one for pretty boys...but Colin, Colin, Colin...ahhh, *sigh*. Haven't a clue what I'd do to him if I actually managed to get my grubby paws on him - but he very nice to look at.

As for who he is - he's a thespian of course. In true shallow woofter stylee, I *choke* haven't actually seen him in anything, but I have an almost encylopaedic knowledge of his career. He started off in Ballykissangel, and most recently was in Minority Report - which I've still not seen, and would overlook my loathing of the mini-Cruise to see. Anyone wanna lend me the dvd? (note to self: Amazon wish list!)

Update If BH is reading this - I only have eyes for you, of course.

posted at 11:02 AM •

I was heartbroken yesterday to read that it seems that Colin Farrell is dating someone called Britney?

To say my screams could be heard as far afield as Aberdeen would not be an exaggeration, as the lovely Miss Fee will attest to. The poor girl is so distraught that her girlfriend Britney could do something so blatantly deceitful that no amount of referrals from the official Guardian Blog can appease her (jealous, me?).

To be sure, I feel exactly the same way about Colin dating someone called Britney - however wonderful *cough* Ms Spears is...I think the important thing is we put aside our disagreements and destroy any potential happiness that they may be deluded into thinking they could possibly have together.

PS
<blog luvviness>I love your site too Miss Fee...</blog luvviness>

Who ever said pooves and lesbanians fight like cat and dog?

posted at 9:34 AM •

More from the kerrazy world of contemporary art. I saw this on telly (I think) last week, and was just mentioning it chatting to someone on Yahoo, while telling them (gratuitous namedrop) about having an office upstairs from Jake and Dinos Chapman. Look, it's arty-worlde lego minifigs! Here's mini Gilbert and George, uttering profantities as usual - they're terrible aren't they?! And here's mini Damien Hirst, complete with lego shark in formaldehyde (the piece is called "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living" actually - I knew that without looking it up).




Aren't they the grooviest things ever? Ahem - and of course serious and thought-provoking artworks too... *cough* *cough* You can see more of this stuff at The Little Artists.


Also, more arty goodness a la guardian journotainment with suggestions for a Queen Mother statue.

The Anthony Gormley piece nearly made me wet myself.

posted at 5:12 PM •

I'm shit at music quizzes...mostly. I think it's because I've got an enviably catholic taste in music (ok, ok, shallow taste in music) - I'd be good at broad ranges of questions, but buggered at the in-depth ones like those at Diamond Geezer's 9pm-last-night puzzle.

But in this day and age, with the marvel that is Google, you don't need to know things, you just need to know where to find them. I decided that's not very sporting though, and besides which, smarty-pants that I am, I came up with lots more answers than I needed for the first question, so I'm mutinying...

The 9pm-last-night puzzle bonus question! (courtesy of Ian and DG):
(8i) Name a further six artists who've recorded covers of David Bowie's The Man Who Sold The World.

posted at 12:22 PM •

Wow - funny thing today. Woke up this morning feeling a bit drained and empty on the ideas front. Gah - just nothing I want to post. I ended up going back to sleep, only to awoken by God's messengers. Well, two bible-thumpers knocking on the door, dragging me out of bed (just as well, it was 10:30). Once I'd politely dispatched them, I started to throw clothes on & hurry out the door. As I was getting it together, I thought of loads of witty, cutting comments I could have made to the nutcases.

And this ties in nicely with Jon's comments about changing your posts once they're written - all the thoughts that pop into your head once you've pressed Post.

The French have a phrase for this that is gorgeously poetic: L'esprit d'escalier - 'The spirit of the staircase' - those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room.

I guess that the feeling about editing your blog is that you lose something - an immediacy perhaps - that the original post contained in it's unedited form. After all, these things don't have to be great literature - but everyone's blog takes on a different form and style. I would never go back and change thoughts or ideas, but then there's the perfectionist me who sees spelling mistakes (obviously they're fun to leave if you were pissed at the time) - or the professional me who likes the idea of a coherant sub-editorial style.

I think I'll leave l'esprit for le comments box.

posted at 11:40 AM •

Surely I'm not the only one to have noticed the terrifying similarity between Zoe "Think of a number" Ball and Norman "Fatty" Cook's baby, Woody - and soon-to-be canonised olive, Mother Theresa? See for yourself, nonbelieving scum.

posted at 7:15 PM •

Blogging etiquette? Quite often now, I've written a post, only to look at it an hour or two later & see things I want to change. Little typos here, a bit of grammar there and - oo, an image would look nice there. Does anyone/everyone else do this? Is this really bad blogging form, or does everyone pretty much do the same thing?

Or am I just a mad perfectionist poofter with far too much time on his hands at work?

While I'm here - will someone buy me one of these please?

posted at 6:33 PM •

Ow. My septum hurts. I got it stretched on Saturday, and it's a little inflamed I think. Sympathy please...

Just ran across this gem of americana... The folks at Pogue Construction, McKinney, Texas. I'll gloss swiftly over the mole-like Kevin Carbrey, and the staggeringly corpulent Cynthia Boatright, and jump straight into 'The Superintendants'. Leaving aside the fact that these guys look as though they've been taken straight out of XXL (gay club for fat hairy beary blokes - and their admirers), scrubbed and thrown into suits and - chuckle - stetsons... I'd be terrified letting this bunch near any construction project, for fear of them converting my home into a WWF-style wrasslin' ring. I mean - please - Rick Savage, Buster Sessions and Chilo Tanguma - these cannot be real people... And Kiwi Authers? That's not a name - it's a demographic.

posted at 11:37 AM •

I mentioned yesterday in my comments that Better Half is off next month to Kyrgyzstan, and Dave has asked what he's doing over there. Well, I've just phoned BH, and I have clearance to tell you - I kid you not, I am cautious about what I write about BH.

So far you may have noticed the distinct lack of political comment in my ace life, and general non-mentioning of any particular goings on in the Middle East. The two things are vaguely connected. BH is a defense journalist - imagine a cross between Jeremy Spake (of airport fly-on-the-wall) and Kate Adie John Simpson. So, I leave all things related to defence and wars to him, and I'm much happier that way. If there's anything I need to know, I can find out - but as someone who grew up in a military environment (astute readers may freely point out that the RAF is hardly what you'd call military) - I prefer a certain level of ignorance.

A sensitive young thing growing up in the last splutterings of the cold war, stationed in Germany, I was a wee bit twitchy about the possibility of a large bomb landing on my head. It's one reason why I love Douglas Coupland's books so much - he had a similar upbringing and much of his writing strikes a chord with me. Have a look at Life After God and see what I mean.

These days I'm a lot less worried by the prospect of war. Mostly because, fundamentally I'm a bit of a coward, and my immediate response to a war is "how likely is it that I'm going to get killed in a Ricin attack/exchange of nuclear weaponry?" - questions which BH can answer with graphs, multimedia presentations and puppet shows and throw in a half page advertisement at no extra cost.

So, Dave, BH is off to Kyrgyzstan to write a piece on military deployment over there.

Well, ahem - that's the reason I'm allowed to tell you, and I'll have to kill you all if you ask any more nosey questions. Additionally, BH being the enterprising opportunist hack that he is, is also thinking of writing a piece for Gay Times on gay life in Kyrgyzstan, and if you've got any information you could pass on Dave, he'd be extremely grateful. He's staying at Banci, which he says is just outside Bishkek. He seems to be eagerly looking forward to trying the bozo (fermented millet grain) - and seems disappointed he probably won't be able to try any kumys (fermented Mare's milk).

Me - I'm just grateful he's not going to Afghanistan as he'd originally planned.

PS Thanks very much for the link Dave!

posted at 9:37 AM •

This post over at Blue Witch really made me smile. Proves that magic is possible, and in the most simple ways. None of this running around all sky-clad and candle-wax on the nipples - just little spells that really do have an effect. Thanks for that BW.

posted at 1:23 PM •

What a really emotionally charged afternoon I had yesterday - from sadness to sublime.

Firstly reading about my internet-acquaintance's shocking and unexpected bereavement, which put me into a really grey mood. I had to get the bus up to Walthamstow as the Central line was still out (and apparently will be for a couple of days), and my mind was going over and over what I'd just read. I can only begin to imagine the horror of finding your partner dead in your bed, and at that age, 21 - terrible, just terrible. My thoughts are with him quite a bit at the moment, so I apologize for the downbeat start of today.

As a guy who's lived most of his life dealing with grief, I get a huge welling of empathy for those who've been recently bereaved. It's a learning and sharing experience for me, passing on stuff that I've learned through losing people I loved - and one of the most important things I've learned is that grief is just something you have to work out yourself. You can have friends and family to support you, but if you have a bad day, you have a bad day. I think it's important to just go with the emotions you've having at each moment - embrace them and just be yourself.

I read once that it's not a good idea to make any radical changes in your life when you're bereaved. It's a very natural effect of bereavement - perhaps the need to fill this huge gap with something new, or to change your routine so as not to be in situations that would remind you of your loss. I think that generally it's good advice not to change anything too drastically, but sometimes you just have to follow your heart. I found that last year after mum died I went off the rails a bit, partying more, experimenting with drugs - and you know what? It helped. It gave me space to find a place in my head that I'd never been before, where I could start to rebuild myself, and it opened me up to a lot of very wonderful people. I'm not apologising for my reaction to my grief - I took drugs which took away the pain briefly so I could carry on without being crushed by sadness. I'm happy with the decisions I made last year, and I'm a better person today because of those choices - it was a process I had to follow, and I'm still going through it now. These words are a part of my coping. At the end of the day, you can get all the advice in the world on how to cope with grief, but eventually it comes down to finding the path yourself.

So that's the sadness...and the sublime? Started off on the tube down to Vauxhall, sat opposite this gorgeous guy, trying to work out whether we were cruising or he was about to punch this poofter's lights out. Very horny. Kind of a circa 1970's Oliver Reed, but with a gorgeous grey-blonde goatee and shaved head. Very sexy too he looked in his SouthWest trains uniform. Very rarely do I get to cruise on the tube, and the thrill of the chase is the best part.

Then a great evening out in the company of my best friends, and a great feel-good show from D.E. Might write more about that later, if I can dredge the details out of the slurry that is my brain this morning.

posted at 12:44 PM •

I was just about to write a short post before going out, but dropped on by a mate's site to look something up. The site was created by a guy who I met while at university - never bumped into him again, but in the way of the internet, always felt like I was in touch with him by reading his site.

He found his boyfriend dead in his bed on the 28th of December 2002. I can't begin to imagine the pain he's experiencing right now. It's making me cry just thinking about it.

posted at 3:36 PM •

It's a *checks outside window* fairly ordinary day in ace East London. Fairly dramatic yesterday though - yours truly missed the drama on the central line by about half an hour. If I'd left home just a wee bit earlier than I did, I could have been on the death train, hurtling towards derailment. As it was, I'd decided to leave the trusty steed at home as I often do at the weekend, and get the tube into the West End. By the time I got to Leytonstone station, the Central line was closed, and I had to struggle in on alternative routes.

Luckily no-one was killed, 31 people injured though - god I'm glad I don't get the tube every day anymore. Between the aging trains and track, disgruntled LUL staff, beggars, crazies, drunks, people who sit with their legs too far apart, people with loud personal stereos, possible attacks from the latest terrorist group...gah, it's a wonder anyone goes down there anymore.

Back to yesterday however, late lunch on Old Compton street with John, Neal and the unexpected addition of the lovely Phil. The closure of the Central line actually gave me a chance to wander around bits that I don't usually get to - walked down south of the river over Waterloo Bridge, and what a great view it is there these days. The next bridge west up the Thames, the Hungerford Bridge seems to be looking fairly smart now. Lit from bridge level and from the suspension pylons, it looks very pretty at night with the london eye towering above, and the houses of parliament behind.

Lots of new things to read and listen to...On the reading front, I'm having a great time with comics at the moment. For about a year, I've just been sustaining my comic reading with one or two titles. In the last months though, lots of interesting things have been coming out, and I'm in a fairly experimental frame of mind. So twenty quid spent yesterday on various books - the highlight being Y - The Last Man - a great example of a fairly simple idea executed with flair and sensitivity. The present day: every mammal on the planet with a Y chromosome has been wiped out by an unexplained illness, except for Yorick and his monkey Ampersand. OK, sounds a little ropey, but if you've never read a comic before, I suggest you pick this up and find out what you've been missing - great dialogue, intelligent plotting and realistic, believable characterisations - and it manages to be funny too. (Note to self: must have a rant about comics one of these days). The other highlight is the second volume of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Although it's a slightly awkward start after a very tightly plotted first volume, I'd still highly recommend it to anyone.

A real aural treat - mmm - on the CD front - a double bill of Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme 'We Got Us' and 'The Golden Hits' on one CD; a very lovely Bert Kaempfert collection and Blossom Dearie sings Comden and Green. Ahhhhh - Easy Listening heaven. Out of all of them, I'd recommend you go out and buy some Blossom Dearie at once. Her voice is smokey honeyed little girl next door, Ella Fitzgerald meets Doris Day. Pure bliss, and amazingly at the age of 75, she's still performing and recording.

Well, that's nearly me for the Vauxhall Tavern preamble. Just time to call off the winged webmonkeys on the Bjork/throat singing front. Whoops...total cockup there... For starters, the throat singer I heard at the concert wasn't from Tuva, she was from Nunavut - the semi-independant Inuit state in Canada - little bit of a difference there, but it'll be interesting to see whether they sound similar. Also, rather crucially, the dvd I have isn't from the concert I saw - easy mistake to make - I went to the English National Opera (ENO), the dvd is from the Royal Opera House (ROH) - oops. They both have Opera in the title don't they? *sigh* I can be a prat sometimes.

posted at 12:09 PM •

Oo, I think it must be nudist day at amazon...

posted at 12:45 PM •

Argh - lost the last post somehow - explorer seems to be throwing a hissy fit...losing cookies and generally misbehavin'.

Just found this great site: the covers project (which, come to think of it, I'm sure I've seen mentioned on one of my regular reads - damn, not the first person to find it then). Basically lets you search for songs or srtists and see who has covered it/them. There goes an afternoon then. Still, I bet it won't bring me any closer to finding a copy of Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun by Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme.

posted at 12:28 PM •

Think I'm going mad here. Back here on Rogue Semiotics, the knowledgeable Jon wrote about Tuvan throat singing, a strange vocal effect that is both beautiful, strange and a little comical. It reminded me of the Bjork concert I went to in 2001, where I'd heard the effect.

I just wanted to show John, and remind myself how it sounded, so I put the concert dvd on - but couldn't find the bit with the throat singer anywhere. Did I imagine the entire thing? Certainly there are bits of the concert on the dvd which I didn't remember, but you would expect a bit of that. In fact, my meories of the night are slightly tarnished by the fact that Bjork didn't really seem to enjoy herself, and she looked tiny on this huge stage at the Royal Opera House. Also, I went with a work colleague, who I've since fallen out with, and now regret taking (ungrateful git that he is). However the performance on the dvd is great, and in some ways better than seeing the event live. Makes me wonder if it wasn't managed that way - to look good on dvd, but screw the live audience. Disappointing if so.

Anyway, I dropped a question on the forum board of bjork.com/unity, and shall see if any of the fan(atics) there can answer my problem.

Lazy Saturday. Really wanted to see 'About Schmidt' today, but it's not showing at the local cinema. We have a great cinema only two tube stops away from us, the Stratford Picture House, but it's only got four screens so limited choice. We've not found any other cinemas nearby - there's a tiny local one in Leyton that mostly shows the latest hollywood and bollywood blockbusters. After that, it's trying to get to the nearest multiplexes - in Greenwich or Edmonton. The filmworks in Greenwich is so depressing to get to - you have to go through North Greenwich, which is always totally deserted except for the occassional european tourist trying to get into the Minnellium Dome.

Now there's an idea - convert the whole site into a giant theme park a la Dollywood but for Liza Minnelli - you could have the 'Divine Decadence' Hall of Mirrors, the 'Cabaret' ballroom and evening...cabaret, the 'Carousel'...carousel...all the hosts would be dressed in various stages of her career of course. I'm phoning Graham Norton's people right now.

posted at 11:36 AM •

Just 'cos it pleases me to do so, I want to congratulate Jimbo on his newly discovered fu-ness.

It looks so goddamn sexy on you boy - and here's me with a pesky expired passport. Bah - oh well, my ace lazy life - I'll just have to wait for the next rugby tournament.

*Frantically checks UK Gay Rugby websites for dates*

Oh, and Bubba? The phrase you were looking for is View Askew. Mmmm - Kevin Smith...arglglglgggh.

posted at 8:19 PM •

Ah, we got the bugger in. Ended up having to call out a carpenter to remove the beading from around the window, and then lifted the sofa in - not bad considering we're a first floor flat (that's second floor to americans).

So, *heaves sigh of relief* we now have a lovely new sofa, which HP has taken a great liking to already. He's sprawled out on it, snoozing away - ah, what it must be like to be a cat.

Well, anyway, I got a fab unexpected full day off - though I did work do some work from home. And that turned out to be another really pleasing thing. I'm very skeptical about working from home, as I know there are too many distractions, but I managed to get my head down and get some stuff done. Makes me wonder whether I could actually cope as a freelancer. I get pretty frequent offers of work - in fact I just turned one down, because the deadline was too short. So, maybe once I've got the project from hell out of the way, I might start thinking about doing freelance instead. I can spend more time on my lovely new sofa then....ah, bliss.

posted at 5:14 PM •

Cocking hell.

Sofa delivered.

Sofa big.

Sofa no fit in flat.

Weeps silently.

Great...so what now? Am eagerly anticipating the arrival of better half, so that we can get frustrated together. It looks suspiciously like we're going to have to try to bring it in through the front window, though feck knows how we'll manage that. Suddenly the ratty old sixties sofa that came with the flat is starting to look quite comfy.

Additionally, being in my house during daylight hours is not fun - I can actually see how bloody grubby it is. Maybe I should sign up for Wife Swap after all - trade John in for a obsessively clean houseshrew.

In other related news, comments readers will have noticed that it now appears that D.E. was in Bronski Beat after all. I'll be at RVT on Sunday - you'll recognise me as the one chanting "Bronskiiii".

posted at 11:30 AM •

I'd just like to point out I'm not obsessed with Lowri Turner. Astute readers will know that the thread started here* when I read Lowri's article in the Guardian funnies section, and found a picture of her twin sister.

I'm not particularly a fan of Lowri, I most certainly don't find her attractive (Hello? Her? If you thought that you clearly haven't been paying attention have you? Go and laugh at Dave...he does), and I have no intention of stalking her (ask me about my disastrous attempts at stalking sometime). However, as nothing much of note actually happens in my ace life, I need to find some excuse to write about stuff, and Lowri - you're it.

What's more, she brings a steady stream of visitors - not Google-zeitgeist levels, but a moderate flow. The latest is a search for 'lowri turner baby'. An infantilist with a fetish for daytime tv presenters? Adoring fan wanting to name their firstborn after Lowri's spawn? Who knows. Or actually gives a crap.

It does give me an opportunity however to mention the fabulous bit of synchronicity between my ace life and Lowri's. Lowri's two sons are called Merlin and Griffin, and by a spooky coincidence, those were the names of the two schools on the RAF base I lived on in Wildenrath, West Germany (when there was still a West Germany). I went to Merlin - it was the best.

Anyway - late here, and I have to get to bed soon, as I'm having a sofa delivered in the morning.

*Yay, I've finally sorted out link anchors in my archive - feel free to link away. Please?

posted at 10:57 PM •

Just idly trawling around Google for stuff on Vauxhall regular "The Dame Edna Experience", I was only marginally suprised to find an entry from September 2001 on one of my favourite blogs, the currently in hibernation Swish Cottage*. Obviously a fairly monumental month in the annals of history, and as I'm the sort of person who likes to find patterns in my life, the very beginning of the latest stage of my life that I'm in now - I turned 28, the world changed, and in four months time, my life would completely change. Anyway - I'm trying not to let this post turn maudlin. Ahem.

Anyway - the reason I ended up there is a stream of googliciousness from a gay author, Mark Simpson reviewing D.E. back in 2001, and writing that his real name is Jonathan Hellyer, which led me to discover that this is the name of one of the members of Bronski Beat. On from there to Swish Cottage, with David finding the very same thing, asking D.E. whether s/he used to be in Bronski Beat, only to be told that actually his real name is Jonathan Paule.

Funny old thing the internet. I love the detective work you can do on it - in this case, not only answering my original question, but finding out where the misinformation came from. Well - it beats doing work.

*STOP PRESS - as I wrote this, I've just found that Swish Cottage has returned - hoorah! Welcome Back!!!!

posted at 5:41 PM •

HMMM! I suspect a certain defense journalist may be looking at my blog at work.

Someone searching for this from this IP address, which leads me here, which coincidentally enough, is located here.

posted at 12:41 PM •

I swear, I work with a bunch of fecking borderline asperger's syndrome freaks. Every single one of them displays one or more characteristics of the lesser version of autism. One in particular is for definite...I get to work this morning, only to find he's taken the last available parking space, but if he'd just moved his bike around a few feet, there would have been plenty of rroom for two. He knows I ride in every day, he knows there isn't that much parking space, but he never displays the slightest sign that he knows there is anyone else in the world except him.

And I was doing so well - it's such a gorgeous bright, sunny, 'spring is just round the corner' day. The sky is clear and blue, it's mild, with a little bit of crispness in the air...perfect January weather. And then he goes and ruins it...fear not, I shall not let this trouble me further!

Welcome to my sidebar are Blue Witch and Jon's weblogs. They're fast becoming the Statler and Waldorf of my comments. Witchy - you really must get your commenting sorted out, so I can pester you more!

posted at 12:16 PM •

Calamity!!!

Prompted by a search string from an aol web paddler I donned my Miss Marple hat, and speeded off to the usual sources - and it's true - Lowri Turner was mugged this week!

Poor diminutive Lowri!

If only Lowri Turner Pinscher had been there, she'd have soon seen off the attacker, by nipping heartily at his ankles.

Turner said the incident had finished off a "terrible week", adding: "I'd like some good luck now."

OK everyone - I want you all to transmit thoughts of good luck and well-being to Ms Turner - we could start a condolance book for her perhaps?

posted at 8:11 AM •

Just posting this here because it cheers me up, and well, WOOF. If I happen to have any gay Japanese readers, or people in Japan surfing by, I'd be extremely grateful if I could get you to send me a copy of G-Men magazine!

The cover artist is someone called Yiraiya, and I can't find anything about him on the 'net, apart from a few bits on G-men's website

If anyone has any info on this guy, or knows of a way of getting hold of G-Men in the UK, drop me a line!

Never hurts to ask!

posted at 4:03 PM •

*Sigh* - I just did something I've not done before. I was eating my lunch, staring out at the world wandering by. Just turning my head down to work out what I was going to cram in my mouth next, when I suddenly saw someone I knew. Double-take. For a split second I thought i'd seen Mum - and then my conscious mind kicked in, and I realised it wasn't...couldn't be.

I've seen women that reminded me of mum in the last year, but never this before - the subconscious double-take before the conscious brain can take over. It's quite an insight into how consciousness functions - if you want to think about it that way. And I'd rather think about it that way than get emotional and upset about it.

It's quite suprising it's taken this long for it to happen really. But then, the immediate effect of the shock of mum dying was weird - conflicted between denial and the absolute reality of watching my sole remaining parent die in front of me - I think my brain just switched off.

In many ways, it's been a lot easier than when Dad died. I never saw him before he died, didn't see his body, didn't go to the funeral. I had dreams about him for years and years afterwards. It was always the same thing - he'd had to disappear, leave us - but he was alive. That was difficult stuff to take in - the dreams never lingered as reality after I'd woken up, but it still left me with a haunted feeling.

I know things will get easier - but it's this that is the difficult thing - the betrayal of the subconcious mind. There will still be times when my subconscious decides to act as though Mum is still with me, and there's nothing I can do about it really. I just have to go along with it, and try not to let it get me down too much, and writing about it helps.

posted at 2:57 PM •

Wife Swap on Channel 4 just gets worse and worse. Last night's featured a mother of six trading places with a mother of one for ten days to see how the other half lives. One of the most puzzling aspects of this series is the 'make it up as you go along' rulebook. Previous episodes saw women taking on another's domestic routine, but keeping their own jobs - a stupid situation when one of them did a full day's work in the home, and the replacement had to fit into this routine while holding down their nine to five. You're left wondering what exactly these people are getting out of the experience.

In fact, this seems to be the problem with the entire series - take two different lifestyles, swap them over and watch the learning begin. Except no-one seems to learn anything other than they're actually pretty happy with their own lives. The final five minutes seem to shape the entire programme, when the two families get together and basically sling the mud like old fishwives. Squeamish viewing, and entertaining in an horrific way, but not exactly educational.

The two poor women in this episode had radically different lifestyles, formed by the demands of their respective families. One was a fulltime housewife, whose attention to detail was overriden by an unswerving timetable focussed around the needs of six kids. It seemed to be working for her. She looked after the home, while her husband held down two or three jobs.

In the other family, both parents worked, and the only child was in daycare. Again, a situation that seemed to be working for them. The house was spotless, as the demands for attention were far fewer, and on the whole, they seemed to be a pretty happy bunch.

In the end, it seemed to come down to a slanging match between the two wives, while the greater theme of "this works for you - that works for you" seemed to be ignored. I had hoped they would have found a respect for the other, but with the manufactured stresses placed on them by the programme, that was never going to happen. The programme makers wanted tears and bitching, and that's what they got.

It would be interesting to see how John and I would cope on the programme. Our domestic routine has evolved over the five years we've been together, mostly through me being the higher earner and having longer hours. John does the cooking and cleaning, I look after money matters, bills and the planning of decorating and looking after the house. Not that either of us does a good job, as we're both basically pretty lazy. But it works for us - if it didn't, we wouldn't have been together so long. Once in a while I get pissed off by the messiness in the house, and I do occassionally go on 1am cleaning benders, which John doesn't understand at all - but for the most part, we're pretty happy with how things are.

Other people have different standards, and I'm sure our attitude to domestic chores would cause stress for a lot of people. Besides which, I dread to think of any woman living in our house. Ah, the bliss of a single-sex household. Ever been nagged that you've left the toilet seat up? Not in our house.

There are downsides though - socks cause the most problems, as we're both the same size shoe, so these pesky articles are totally interchangeable between us. Yes, I wear my partners underwear to work - domesticity isn't pretty.

posted at 11:27 AM •

Sit Lowri, sit...good dog.

*woof*

Been getting a fair few visitors from Google looking for stuff about Lowri, who is rapidly becoming this site's mascot. My favourite so far is the Lowriphobic Welshman (possibly he meant to search for Llowri Turner?). To commemorate, here's Lowri Turner miniature pinscher. Isn't she cute?

Other highlights of Google hits are:

• lowri turner twin
• blood type character o ab a b
• snoopy nipple
• fake pics of charlotte church
• ron emode mit [not quite sure on this one]
• "colin farrell" "gay experience" [yeah, sure]

Ah, the joys of Googlism!

A couple of little additions to the sidebar - firstly the Isle of Man webring, and secondly, my pedigree on BlogTree. Big hello to my Daddy Jim over at Jockohomo, one of the main sources of inspiration for my ace life. You should really check him out, he has a unique style - part journal, part commentary, part stream-of-consciousness. Oh, and he's utterly utterly gorgeous!

"Woof!" says Lowri Pinscher.

posted at 6:31 PM •

Amid all the usual hysteria over celebrity paedophiles, it seems there is finally a rational, reasoned backlash against the kneejerk frenzy. Chris Morris's efforts at sending up the redtop twaddle were amusing, but pretty much preaching to the converted while pissing off everyone else. I imagine that quite a lot of educated (yeah, OK lefty-liberals) people feel the same way as Morris, but choose to remain silent, overwhelmed by the volume of the screams of "KILL, KILL, KILL".

A few posts over on Ian's blog led me through to a couple of editorials on The Independant, arguing fairly vocally against the media reaction to the latest revelations concerning a few high-profile arrests.

As a gay bloke, I find it hard not to empathise with one group of people whose sexuality is considered deviant and abhorrent, and my own which was once (and of course in some parts of the world, still is) treated with a similar reprehension. My feeling is that paedophilia is a condition created and defined by a society's rules of propriety. The notion that childhood is sacred (a construct which is not universal, either geographically or historically), and that the child is pure, perfect and without sin is, to my mind, a bit problematic. When children go out of their way to prove that they are in fact none of these things - as in the Jamie Bulger case where two 10 year old boys killed a 2 year old - society comes into crisis.

As Johann Hari argues in this article, perhaps people displaying paedophilic tendencies should be helped and treated with understanding, and gasp even compassion.

In Janet Street-Porter's article, she points out that one of the latest under the spotlight, Matthew Kelly would have been in his early twenties at the time of the alleged offences, and that his 'victims' were in all likelihood in their late teens.

Amid the wave of journotainment sweeping the Guardian, and the usual "Kill the monsters" drivel in the redtops, it's admirable that one paper is actually taking a reasoned stance against some of the more absurd elements in this country, and having the guts to print it. I think I'm going to have to start reading the Independant

posted at 12:01 PM •

Considering how frequent I've been with posting lately, I suppose you might have thought something terrible had happened. Did the plane get hijacked by suicidal manx separatist lesbian fundamentalists and plunge into the millenium dome? Did my sister plant dope with a street value of £100,000 in my wash-bag and watch me get carted off by customs? Did I arrive safely only to end the day in a gin-soaked gutter, cold and forlorn? Well actually, no, no I did not...read on...

Arrived safely, John in a stormer of a mood, because he'd had to park the batmobile as the top-hatted concierge (classy) at the front of city airport wasn't letting anyone wait. £1.50 it cost him, for five minutes. Bloomin cheek! So, he was in a crap mood - some welcome that turned out to be. Got home & swiftly got ready to go out again, including converting goatee back into sexy fu 'stache. Ahem.

Evening was a sophisticated air of sparkling conversation, light entertainment and cocktails. Um, yeah, right. Screaming over the top of handbag house, mugging insanely and saying "I love you" lots, evil acerbic drugged up drag queen reenacting the Nuremburg rally with a crowd of poofters - the cocktails are right though, just not the "shaken not stirred" variety.

A usual night at the Vauxhall then.

So, I've just been a wee bit fragile today, sat for the most part in front of the old PC staring blankly. Nothing really on my mind - can't even cope with tabloid TV. I shall try my hardest to find my muse for tomorrow. Promise.

And if I can't, I'll just make up some old celebrity gossip crap about Lowri Turner.

posted at 10:32 PM •

Only a couple of hours before I get my flight back to City. Not a bad couple of days really, I avoided the tears quite a bit. I welled up a little on Friday when we passed the NSC (national sports centre) where mum helped and worked a lot. There's a memorial tree there, that I might just go and visit before I leave. Then John is picking me up from the airport, and I'm off out to the RVT. Hopefully should be a good night!

posted at 11:39 AM •

See, this is the wonderful thing about the Isle of Man - there's nothing to do here. It's difficult as someone who doesn't live here to work out how people manage - but the thing is, people just get on and do their own thing. It's brilliant having a great sister who now is happy to share bits of her life with me - I come over here, and all her friends are so welcoming, so warm.

I've got some great friends in London, but they are so hard to find over there amongst all the shit. Over here, it's survival of the fittest, baby - if you're not nice to your neighbour, they'll eat you alive, and so everyone has to get on with each other.

I love life in London. Well, I sometimes feel like I don't have a choice. On some levels I would love to have a life here, but I was trying to do a bit of rough mental calculation this afternoon, and I don't think there can be more than 1000 gay people on this rock. As my mate John said, have you shagged them all? Well give me three years and I'd probably have gone through most of them. Or maybe not - it's so bloody invisible over here. Don't ask don't tell?! Hah - how do you even ask when they're so far in the closet they're in fucking Narnia?

Although - maybe it isn't so weird after all...everywhere has ghettos, it's just here it's a lot easier to see them.

Anyway - we're spoiled for choice in London - entertainment on a conveyor belt - and then you come here, and you realise that it doesn't have to be that way. That not having everything there for you makes you get off your arse and do your own thing. But, well...I'm just a tourist. And tomorrow it's back to my life. My ace life.

posted at 1:17 AM •

Stayed in for the first time in months last night. Mandy's boyfriend Ed cooked this amazing Thai Curry - which was as good if not better than anything I've eaten in Thai restaurants. Cringed my way through Dungeons & Dragons (the film) while he cooked - couldn't believe what a star-filled turkey it was. I'd love to know the reasons why Jeremy Irons and Tom Baker decided it would be a good thing for their careers - atrocious scipt, nonsensical plot, hit and miss effects. In fact it was getting seriously close to fantastically bad film status - it certainly was entertaining to watch on some level. Thora Birch did her best Queen Amidala performance - she's managed to keep this film very quiet from her Indie film chums hasn't she...?

Watched Ice Age next, which on the whole was incredibly disappointing. It just had too much going for it, and my expectations were set too high in the first 20 minutes of the film. Spectacular animation and cgi were sometimes not great bedfellows. Art direction alternated between incredible realism (water, fur) to stylised almost traditional cell-shading effects, and more than once the effect was jarring. The plot started out so well, but then seemed to lose faith in itself, resorting to too many film cliches and a checklist of "Things I Should See In The Ice Age". The characterisations were believable, the sentimentalitity was never too saccharine - but occassionally big plot holes undid all of the good work - just why was Manfred going in the opposite direction anyway? Anyway - I did enjoy it, but I wanted it to be a lot more.

Got to go get the chores out of the way now - I'm trying to see if I can find any celeb gossip on Zoe Ball and Norman Cook as well. There must be some dirty linen to air there...I bet Zoe chews her toenails or something.

posted at 10:03 AM •

Chuffing hell, as my big sis would say - I'm in the Isle of Man - and what's more, I've been up since 6am this morning. Oh god, this place...it's beautiful and fantastic, but I feel so claustrophobic here. It might be because my sinuses have been playing up since we hit 10,000 feet (at which point, we pretty much started our descent - cabin crew madly collecting up plastic cups that she'd handed out ten minutes earlier). Sister met me from the Airport - a gorgeous sporty silver thing pulled up - and then my sister in a compact red suzuki thingy. It's cute - but the sports car would've been better.

I've had time for a quick mooch around my old stomping grounds, and already sighted loads more people than I really can cope with. It's just that usual returning to small town from big city vibe...in London, you maybe bump into someone you've not seen for 6 months, and you give it the big catch up & so good to see you. Here, I'm liable to bump into someone I knew when I was a weird geeky spotty kid of 11 (I'm now a weird geeky spotty man of 29). And nine times out of ten, it's - oh look there's so-and-so, can't stand her/him - and walk in the other direction very quickly, or smile weakly & say hi.

Anyway - bumped into this girl I used to work with in B&Q. Can't remember her name - I just know her surname is something Italian. Well, she recognised me, I recognised her - just about - a total and utter transformation from when I last saw her oo - 8 years ago? But I just couldn't help myself from flirting with her...I was just being nice, but the smile stakes kept getting escalated, and before I knew it I was on full on charming flirt offensive. What's worse is that I was pretty conscious of doing it, but couldn't stop myself. And she was being flirty back.

I'm not particularly out over here - anyone who matters knows, but a lot of people from school age won't know - unless they read my friends reunited entry - which you'll just have to find yourselves. So, there you go - back 5 minutes and I've got a girlfriend - sorry John.

Thanks to Ariel by the way for adding to me to the Isle of Man weblog ring - I haven't got round to replying to you yet, but I will ;) It's nice to be back - even if it's only for a couple of days!

posted at 4:16 PM •

Apparently there's a 6:30 AM - why did no-one tell me this?

Got to rush around now & get off for my flight at 9am, and it looks a bit windy out there - could be a bumpy ride! I'll leave you with the news that Charlotte Church yesterday confessed to my celebrity insider that she has a serious skittles habit, and eats a pound and a half of the delicious rainbow coloured candy a day. It's so sad when kids get like this - I'm worried about the youth of today.

Charlotte - drop me a line sweetheart - we can find you help. Today it's skittles, tomorrrow you'll be knocking back 500ml bottles of Tixylix.

posted at 6:29 AM •

Good news everyone...I've decided to become a radical militant poof.

I was just wandering around Liverpool Street and I was thinking about a chat I had last night with an online mate who was brought up catholic. Now, it's probably the Vulcan in me, but I usually get all logical when people start talking about sexuality. All of the usual arguments against homosexuality always seem so bloody limp to me, and now that I've got a forum (bwah-hah-ha), I thought I'd jump on my metaphorical soap-box about it. I think it's about bloody time too - we've tried being nice, we've tried fitting in, now it's time for some nasty. No more Mr (and Ms) nice gay type.

So - what are the usual arguments?

No 1. But it's not natural
Bah, humbug. What exactly does natural mean anyway? It's not how we were designed? Sex is meant for men and women? Total piffle...for starters, concentrating purely on anal sex, if it's not natural, then how come cocks fit up arses so damn neatly? How come they stimulate (in men) the prostate, causing pleasure? If anal sex wasn't natural, it shouldn't be possible. Animals do it, men and women do it, yet apparently it's not natural if two men do it. On what grounds? Conversely, why is any type of non-procreational sex natural? What this argument really means is, "It's not what my mummy/daddy/church/society/tv said was natural", and as such, it's a total abdication of rationality. Mummy and the church said masturbation wasn't natural either...and you do that don't you? Hmm, one rule for you, a different one for us.

No 2. The Bible says it's a sin
Hogwash. Baloney. Now, I'm no biblical scholar (no, really I'm not), but from what I've read and looked at, the Bible says a ton of stuff, a whole lot of it contradictory, and a whole lot of it concerning things like not worshipping goats or cows, not shaving, eating various foods, not eating various foods and generally not going on tv and getting rich off other people's brainlessness that just about every Christian ignores on a daily basis. So why single out homosexuality for attack? Also, have any of these people bothered to think about the fact that none of these books in the Bible were written in English? (or whatever language they choose to read it in?) From what I understand, no Modern day version of the Bible can be considered full and correct as mistakes creep in when judgements have to be made when translating. Here's one scholar's account of what the Bible really says about lovely sweet gay folk.

I've got more, don't worry...but I'll save those for next post!

posted at 3:31 PM •

"The City of Westminster cordially invites you to take part in their exclusive parking scheme. For a one-off fee of £80 (or £40 if you respond to this invitation within 14 days), you can park anywhere within the City of Westminster for a maximum of 4 hours. We look forward to welcoming you to this exclusive once in a lifetime opportunity.



Bastards...and I'd only stopped off for a bottle of Taboo.
Sod this, I'm off for some lunch.

posted at 1:23 PM •

Christ, another sleepless night. Loads of anxiety dreams again. Anyway - I've got a meeting at the clients place in the Strand at 11, so I'm going straight there...I'm not even in work yet. Post more this afternoon.

posted at 10:20 AM •

Do you see a nipple in the above picture? Were you sexually aroused by it?

Thought not...me neither.

The guys at emode have some funny ideas...their original inkblot test reveals more about their psyches than it did mine. Goin' on and on, asking whether you can see breasts or penises in simple inkblots, can you see dead people?

And apparently after 50-odd questions, they can reveal that my unconcious mind is driven by peace (I think that should have been peas...), and that if I send them $14.95, I'll be able to find out all about myself. I think I'll just stick to the useless "which Snoopy character are you" type tests in future.

Thanks to Colin for the link.

posted at 5:10 PM •

Been doing bugger all work today so far. The reason being that I'm building things for here - far more fun and rewarding. The fruits of this afternoon's labour so far...a veritable link-fest.

Started porting my huge collection of links over here...I've got tons, they're all meticulously ordered and filed, and it's a big job.

I've also been having a play with a slight redesign (already) - but I'll stick with the currect layout for the time being. I've had a request for an RSS feed too...a bit dim here occassionally, does someone want to fill me in on why that's a good thing? I could go find out, but I'm just too damn busy!

posted at 3:11 PM •

Appendix to the last post...the Isle of Man Blog Webring.

posted at 12:25 PM •

Groan....seriously knackered here. Did an REM Tour De France last night. I guess I'm feeling anxious about going back to the Isle of Man on Friday. For starters, I'm not a great flyer - it's not that I'm phobic, but I do get a bit anxious strapping myself into a cylindrical tube hurtling through the air. I loved planes when I was a kid, maybe I've just seen too many disaster movies. The main anxiety stems from the fact that I have to go and sort out the remainder of my mum's property. What's more, it's all being held at a family friend's house, where coincidentally my mum collapsed shortly before taken into hospital.

The good thing is I'm only going back for two days - and I should be able to post over the weekend - the Isle of Man has the internet! Not only that, it has it's own dinky top level domain (.im), and in fact has one of the first working 3G networks in the world. For once, they were ahead on something! Apart from that, though, it is a little backward - but in a really nice way.

I've mentioned the island before - but well, I don't think I've ever been exactly fair about the place. For foreign visitors (though in my experience, people from outside the UK often have a better idea of where it is for some reason), it's a tiny place stuck in the middle of the Irish Sea...32.5 miles long and only 13.5 miles wide. It has it's own character - the culture is pretty unique, but is a blend of north of england, irish, gaelic and other bits and pieces. It's been getting slightly more cosmopolitan is the last ten years or so with the growth of the finance sector, the island being an - ahem - tax haven. It's been great for me, as I can get back there from City Airport (a bus goes there practically from my front door) in about 2 hours. I'm sure I'll mention bits about it in the future, but have a look here for more info. Probably best known about the island is the Manx cat, which I think I forgot to mention, is HP - he's a stumpy, which means he was born with only a little stumpy tail.

Anyway, I was intending to go on more about the gay thing, but I've got side-tracked. I'll bring it back round though. I'm constantly approached by complete acquaintances in the street..."Steve," they ask..."don't you get birched for being gay in the Isle of Man?"

The answer is no, sadly for S&M queens. Admittedly, until about 10 years or so ago, homosexual acts were still illegal on the island - it was one of the last places in the British Isles to have it legalised. We have our own government (the oldest continuous parliament in the world), and make up laws as we go along (no hamsters are allowed on the island either), but pretty much have to follow UK law if it's going to make life difficult for them with the EU.

There didn't use to be much gay visibility on the island - in fact I still don't think there's a gay pub, but things are getting better. There's even an Isle of Man room on gaydar, usually populated by a handful of people terrified to give out their picture, or more than a scant handful of personal information. The similarities between there and mainland england are disappointingly striking though. I know of one gay member of parliament over there - in fact, I ran into him last year at XXL. He seems to be indicative of a new social group in the island, who live and work there, but leave every month or so to do the gay thing. It's disappointing as I think this is going to be more of a hindrance to gay progress in the island, but I guess we'll have to see.

posted at 11:56 AM •

We have lift-off....!

No sooner had I whinged about Google ranking than it's pigeons were beavering (can pigeons beaver?) away at my site, ranking like fury. Strings are beginning to pop up fairly regularly now, and I can start to monitor my pet term 'fag bangle'. Except bizarrely, the result for the observer/guardian has disappeared, leaving only my archive. So, we're still on 1 result. Expect a pretty graph by the end of the month.

And a fair amount of linkage from other blogs too - gawsh, I feel like part of a proper community an' everything. Reciprocal link already in place for the gorgeously adorably sexy Ron - mmm, I think I may have to start a list of bloggers I'd like to shag meet.

I've upped the point size on the body text, following my first complaint from Jon...I'm even getting excited about complaints too! Feedback would be appreciated if this is an improvement.

posted at 5:13 PM •

Cheers to diamond geezer down the road in E3 for the link, and for his great 7am puzzles this week. Appearance in my sidebar coming soon.

Today's answer is (highlight here...): 1912

posted at 12:18 PM •

So I feel like I'm getting into the swing of this blogging caper. Time for a couple of quick pointers for those of you who are visiting me...

I'm writing this probably in much the same way as most other bloggers - it's mainly going to be an online journal, with occassional links (when I'm in the mood), and occasional themes - most notably these will be - being gay, dealing with grief, computers, art, films, comics and other associated ramblings. Colin Farrell may make the occassional appearance, as will any other blokes that have taken my fancy.

There will rarely be any posts before 10am. I'm just not that kind of person at the moment. I'm in the luxurious position of working for a bunch of arty liberals who don't like the idea of enforcing a strict punctuality policy. I'm rarely out of bed before 8:00am, and rarely in work (where I'll be doing the majority of posts) before 10:00am. Unless things change in the next few months (watch this space) - that's how it's going to be.

Starring role is me: Steve. Supporting cast is John - boyfriend of five years. Assorted friends: Peter, Neal and John, Johnnie, Loek (otherwise known as 'source of celebrity gossip'), Andrew and various others - These guys will mostly crop up at the weekends. My sister: Mandy. Occassional workmates: Jason, Stine.

Obviously this is a fairly young blog - and I'm feeling my way around things. And it's a pretty fun place too...my first unsolicited comments, and just now, my first search queries. Observant readers will have noted that I'm a web designer type, but I'll admit here that the whole search engine thing is a bit of a mystery to me. I usually rely on my mate Peter to fill me in on bits and pieces like that, but he's in Australia at the moment - so if anyone wants to send me tips on how to get Google to rank me, I'll be eternally grateful. Seems it's picking me up now, but not everything yet.

Anyway, I was going to continue with the 'being gay' thing today, as I liked yesterday's post, but I've only really scratched the surface.

Continuing on from the Colin thing - sorry if you're reading this, Colin - I'm not obsessed, you're just a convenient springboard (if you'll pardon the allusion). I've always been attracted to hairy masculine guys. When I first came out however, I quickly realised that I'd moved from one set of rules of propriety to another. I was young and 'cute' and that put me in a very definite box within the gay millieu. One thing I never was however, was naïve - inexperienced maybe, but fairly shrewd, and a very fast learner. I never felt comfortable with the label of 'chicken' or 'twink', and I never liked the impression that I was looking for an older man to look after me - I just liked a certain type. These things combined together to give me a new sense of awkwardness, even as I left the old one behind. The world around me seemed to be saying that attractiveness was youth, slim toned bodies, no body hair - everything I was, but not what I wanted. So I did my best to mitigate my desires, to 'fit in' again.

This continued for quite a while, throughout my university years. I stuck to fairly small cities, Middlesbrough and Stoke-on-Trent, with fairly compact gay communities, and although I was happy with my new identity as a gay man, I still didn't feel at ease. Fast forwarding a bit, to the end of my university years, and I met John. He was everything I found attractive - big hairy and full of character. This was the beginning of another new chapter, but characteristic of my relationship with John, it wasn't the huge gut-wrenching change that I'd come to experience from other times in my life where one story ended and a new one began. This chapter, which took me to London and beyond has it's times of liberation, and times of alienation, but that's for the next post.

posted at 12:08 PM •

Well that's somewhat better. Brain is starting to come round now - enough for a few thoughts and ramblings.

Thought I'd write a bit about this whole gay thing - it's just the first thing that comes to mind at the moment, after stumbling onto Colin's journal, and him taking my compliment graciously. I was a bit wary giving it, as obviously I don't know him really, and some people don't like that sort of thing, so it's nice that he took it as a purely no-strings compliment. Living in London there is the possibility of forgetting that gay people are not always accepted, but having been brought up in fairly small towns and communities where gay people were not at all visible, it's something that I am mindful of.

I'm pretty certain the I am predisposed to this sexuality. I never set out to be gay, I wasn't recruited, it's just the way things are. I didn't have my first gay experience until I was 21, being the sort of person that doesn't like to rush into things too much. I'd had a couple of hetero relationships, which were just very extremely weird experiences. The two girls in question were really great, good company, but I was just at a total loss as to know what I was supposed to be doing with them. They happened because it was what everyone else was doing...it's quite funny looking back on my naivete, but quite sad too, thinking about how confused I was by the whole thi