Friday morning

8.26 a.m, hungover , should be in work, not yet even dressed.

Chocs away

On Saturday, I was on my way to Duckie (an amazing if rather mind blowing act btw) On the pavement alongside the Tate Library on South Lambeth Road, I saw an Oyster card holder. Picked it up, and inside there was an Oyster photocard, a driving licence and an Estonian ID card. If it had just been an everyday Oyster card I might have even left it there, but all that ID made me think it should go to its owner as soon as possible but how,

So after a night of avoiding water being squirted out of bodily cavities, and pogoing to Saint Etienne, I woke up on Sunday listened to Desert Island disks and remembered about of acquisition. I still had no idea of how to return it to it's owner.

Then I realised, they belonged to a 21 year old, he was bound to be an Facebook. Did a quick search and there was a likely candidate, sent a message.

So at 5.30 this evening I was at St James's Park station, pass and Id cards in hand. Henry (for that was his name) arrived and handed me with a huge box of Thorntons chocolates, twenty quids worth.

I was totally gobsmacked as I didn't do any of it for a reward, but I had a nice warm glow when walking home.

I have now eaten about twenty of them - which is a bit naughty.

sexy what

I have signed up to one of those websites which tells you who has looked at your blog and how they found you.

Common searches include 'caru ti' Welsh for Love you, people looking for a Welsh language version of I can sing a rainbow, (apologies but I can't provide one) residents in the Middle East who are looking for their favourite relative, and top of the list perverts who come to me looking for pictures of Toby's neighbour who sets fire to her breasts, and removes hankies from her lady garden.

There are also a number who come to me looking for 'sexy MPs' it's taken me a while but not everyone is looking for pictures of Adam Price, John Bercow, or one of the Milibands. Some are actually those with a hankering for a man in uniform. The MP standing not for Member of Parliament but Military Police. I have mentioned the former but sorry never the latter.

back to work

First day back, I survived, just about.

Lurgy

I think I may becoming down with a strain of the dreaded lurgy. Shortness of breath, tight chest, occasional cough.

This is not good.

I speak the two spokes

When in Wales, I rarely speak much English, unless it's to a small number of the family whose Welsh is not great.

Usually this results in my accent becoming rather strong for a while after my return (or stronger depending on your point of view). This time I can add a new phenomena the urge to start conversations with my housemates in Welsh.

Thankfully for their sake this urge disappeared after a good night's sleep.

Home comforts

Things which made me smile when at home (not always with happiness)

• the fact that in the kitchen that after two refurbishments in the last thirty years that the left hand tap is the cold one, yet is marked red, and the right hand side tap is marked blue and is for hot water.
• that the bathroom shower finally gives out a decent amount of hot water.
• Waking up and not being cold - central heating was a late addition to my childhood home
• Seeing a house for sale with guideprice of £30,000
• The sea.
• Watching the blue tits at the bird feeder
• Standing outside when it's dark (and dry) and watching the night sky. It's amazing how many stars there out in the firmament which you don't see when in London
• the fact that mother still forces me to eat bread with almost every meal
• That 'my bedroom' is no longer magnolia, and has a bit of color on the walls - a pity it was orange
• That after 49 years of work with the same employer, my father is much happier in his retirement than I ever thought possible, and even mam enjoys having him about the house.
• My nephew has now reached the age that he believes that he is too old for kisses.
• The fact he was upset that I would not be home for Christmas.
• My niece calling my up at 8 am on my last morning to wish me goodbye before I left for London.
• Their fascination when I showed them on a globe my planned itinerary for my 2010 US trip.
• My reputation of being a totally hopeless traveller still remains, and before returning I was constantly being offered travel sickness tablets.
• the return of childhood memories of being reluctantly dragged around town by my mother, where a ten minute walk would turn into an hour as she would constantly be stopping to chat - it was a pain when I was five, it was a pain when I was 10, it is still a pain as I approach 40.
• Seeing an interview with my father on his retirement being published in what is considered to be quite a 'posh' 'high society' Welsh language magazine. I learnt a lot about him as a result.

Welsh witterings

• Rain rain rain, I have come to the conclusion that Noah did not live anywhere near the middle East, but was Welsh. It rained early Thursday afternoon, Late Thursday evening, most of Friday, Saturday, and more is promised tonight and at some stage tomorrow. There used to be a time where my visit home would coincide with lovely warm weather, of late it's been the opposite, now when I come home I am welcomed by rain and greyness.
• I mentioned home twice in that paragrpah - what exactly is home. When i ma sunny Stockwell, I call where I am typing now Home. when I'm here after 24 hours or so London most definitely is home. So I wonder where home really is.
• Yesterday I went to see my nephew and niece, the latter is old enough for homework, I ended up helping her. It was Maths. It was fun , but quite tiring, it was simple division and mutiplication, but my brain had to work hard to actually maintain an interest and to work out the correct answers. So one benefit of being gay and not having children therefore is that I should not have to do that too often.
• I have discovered Hannah Montana, Class Rock, and the fact that Disney Channel makes rather dodgy programmes

• 
  

Growing up in Wales as a child I knew that being gay and staying in rural Wales would not be easy, hence being one of the reasons I left for the big city - Cardiff, and then London as soon as I could. At the same time I had the view that over the Atlantic in America things were far more accepting, and far more liberal. So its rather off that in a week when the hate filled fascists of NOM led by Maggie Gallagher have succeeded yet again in removing a human right from the gay residents of Maine, that tonight on S4C I have been watching a Welsh language sports quiz, the audience full of Welsh rugby lads and laddetts where one of the teams is captained by an openly gay rugby referee.

I'm not living in a fantasy land that Wales has become a gay nirvana, but it is nice to think that it is become far more open than it was two decades ago when I left tis small coastal town.

Wales here I come.

Off back to see the folks in a moment. Typing this to kill time before leaving the house. All packed but appear to be taking as much stuff with me as I do when I go to New York, then again I am taking two coats - one for wet weather, one for cold. Each one is good for what it was designed for but not so effective for the alternative - I don't think I will be needing a warm weather jacket .

moans and gripes

well just the one. I am off to wales tomorrow for a week the land of no wifi and the house of no internet.

So thought I'd try out tethering my iphone. Can I find out on the O2 website what to do, can I buffalo. As a website it is so lacking in functionality.

Sunday samples

• Happy November - although it is oddly still warm enough to walk out on a Saturday afternoon (ok it was in October) in a short sleeved shirt! and even last night I walked home from Duckie in my shirt sleeves.
• Woke up to the sound of rain, heavy wet rain. Wanted to stay in bed by 11 am was approaching and that wouldn't do.
• Two days left of work then a week and a half away from the office much of it in Wales. I think they have forecast rain.
• Rather disappointed that the Zombie Film Pontypool is set in Canada and not Wales.
• The Miso Soup lunchtime diet is having an effect, I can pretend to be a South London youth and wear my jeans round my buttocks.
• I am disappointed I had no need to be a grouch last night - no Trick or treaters came near the house. Not that the door would have been opened.
• I am clean shaven again for the second maybe the third time this year. I had to change the blade as it was such a long time since I last denuded my face of all its hair follicles.

Queer question time

After the vigil headed off in a Black Cab in the direction of the RVT for Queer Question time, an event which tragically coincided with the event at Trfalgar Square as a result everything had been pushed back an hour or so.

Five panelist with Amy Lame playing the role of David Dimbleby. Angela Eagle MP and the country's most senior (only) out Lesbian politician, Andrew Boff London Assembly Member (and that most bizarre of creatures a Gay Tory) Peter Tatchell, Mark McCalmont (the singer) and Tim Teeman (of Times and owner of a very sexy pair or eyebrows).

Questions were mainly on political issues of the day with gay rights theme. On the whole the panel expressed me, particularly Eagle and Boff. In fact Boff became dangerously near to become an even rarer creature - a sensible gay Tory, he spoke a lot of sense about the Nastiness of the Daily Mail, sloppy use of language by BBC journalists when it comes to reporting news regarding child abuse, the way in which the BNP works at trying to make it's views acceptable (which in my view is actually similar to the way in which the Daly Mail pushes its agenda), he lost it a bit when trying to defend Boris are not so lovely Mayor. Angela Eagle - there with her wife, another victim of the Daily Mail homophonic agenda, defended the government's Gay rights policies, and rightly stated that Conservative opposition in the House of Lords was a barrier to putting Anti-Gay Hate Crime on the statute books. Tatchell did well but I still don't fully understand his views on Gay Marriage / Straight Civil Partnerships, and I'm not really keen to further explore the possibility that Nick Griffin is actually a big closet case. He was also the only one in the hate crime debate to bring up the issue of anti-Trans hate crime, he named a recent victim, and only a handful knew the name and understood the significance. I wasn't one of them. After the rather nasty piece against the Trans community written by so called lesbian feminist activist Julie Biden yesterday, he put over the message that T in the LGBT is often overlooked by the first three quarters of the term.

The star of the evening however wasn't anyone on the panel but the Lesbian who confronted Nick Griffin on Question Time, by telling him that he may be repulsed by gay men kissing, but that he could be assured that the feeling was mutual.

After the questions we had some music of to be honest dubious quality - it certainly wasn't a get up and dance selection. But we then had Dickie Beau who did a marvelous act dressed up as Michael Jackson, complete with baby.

I hope they do something similar again, but next time without the tragic backdrop of Trafalgar Square.

Hate Crime Vigil

Last night I went along to Trafalgar Square for the anti-Hate Crme vigil following the senseless killing of Ian Baynham, by a gang of homophobic youths.

This was a first for me and I would like to think it could be the last.

Unfortunately there has been a recent upsurge in LGBT hate crime recently or at least a reporting of them by both victims to the police and in the media. Although a brief scan of the web suggest that this wasn't a story worth reporting this morning except for this on the BBC. I am happy and indeed hopeful to be corrected.

I arrived at about 8.15 and teh square was already full, as full as was four months ago when perhaps a great majority of those attending had just arrived after taking part in this year Pride March. Then the mood was one of fun and enjoyment last night was naturally more somber. I heard a few speeches - Sandi Toksvig - who delicately brought a touch of humour to the proceedings, and the former priest in charge of St Anne's the parish church of Soho, who talked about the 1999 Admiral Duncan bombings, the horror of which I will shamefully admit had not really sunk in until last night. It was at this stage when a woman just in from of me got rather agitated and started being rather venomous about the Catholic church, rather missing the point that a Female priest was by definition going to be Anglican and not a follower of the pope. It was also sobering to hear about the fact that despite the the fact that 25% of gay men and women have been victims of hate crimes in the past year, that in other parts of Europe, Ukraine, Lithuania, Bulgaria it is much worse. There was also a choir unfortunately being in the open air and the lack of amplification meant that they were at times inaudible, but the occasional gentle sound doming from the steps leading up to the piazza in front of the National Gallery added to the atmosphere. Unfortunately I was unable to hear a friend of Ian Baynham's read out his sister dedication to her murdered brother.

The 2 minute silence was very moving - 120 seconds to contemplate and think. The sight of those attending raising their candles aloft added to the feeling of sadness. Sue Perkins the read out the names of victims of LGBT hate crime over the past ten years.

The whole thing also made me realize that I have been generally lucky, I was never a target in school for being possible gay, and in the whole 16 years in London I have only had one serious encounter with homophobic abuse, and even then the target was less me and more my then boyfriend.

I am glad I went it was not a night of anger, that should be directed elsewhere but one of sadness, and I really hope that I will not have to attend one of these again.

Drink up

As always my home town Cardigan only makes it in the news if something grim has happened.

This time the anti-fun police are out to get you.

Now I have no objection to making any where a nicer place to live - how many times do I moan on here about the fact that I think that having Stockwell Park high School as a neighbour is a huge pain, which would be alleviated if the headmistress actually engaged with the community and actually got her pupils to behave.

But this is ridiculous. The fact that Church leaders are getting involved is a bit suspect - although in the late 1980's the sons, daughter, grandchildren of local preachers were already drinking in pubs before the age of 18. Apparently the aim is to make the town more attractive i the evenings, but what on earth would anyone do. Cardigan High Street is no trendy Clapham, The shops are almost all closed by 6, there are no restaurants besides a Chinese and a couple of Indian Takeaways. The only reason people go near the high street at night is to drink, and with so few other sources of entertainment this drinking is going to be quite hard core.

If I was back in Wales there is one word I would use and that would be Twp.

Thursday treats

• left work late enough (but not too late) to enjoy a walk home in the unseasonably mild weather, accompanied by the moonlit sky, and a full river. Lovely - one of the best things about London.
• Recruiting is a pain, I'm surrounded by job descriptions, job applications and related paperwork. Any more and I'll be drowning in paper.
• Not looking forward to Saturday Halloween. The local youths will pretend they are American for the evening and partake in Trick or Treating. As always the door will be kept shut the blinds will come down the curtains will be drawn, and the lights will be switched off.
• I've eaten four big tubs of Ben and Jerry's in a fortnight - I think that is enough for teh rest of the year.
• I've now watched Shirley Bassey at the Electric Proms 3 times in four days. I couldn't really be gayer could I?

Brighton

The clocks went back on Sunday morning, this could have meant an extra hour in bed, but I think it actually meant an extra hour of drinking! After a night of gin guzzling, ended up eating wild boar sausage and drinking Cava with some friends.

Next day it was a trip to Brighton, taking part in a jail break (well a hospital break), left Vauxhall at 12.20, and was back home by 8.00 so much of the day was actually spent on the train. But the time spent at the Seaside was well spent. Lovely company, and really nice food - at the Amsterdam. With a name like that you can correctly suppose it was gay. The food was nice, in fact for a pub lunch it was very nice.

Didn't really have an opportunity to do much whilst there, so my next sentence will be based on very little experience. But I really was glad to get back to London. The sea view was nice but ...

Warm isn't it? And it' set to get warmer up to 19 later this week. A bit ridiculous, it's the arse end of October , the clock have gone back. But walking home along the river with the brown leaves along the ground in a thin jacket is just wrong. I want to start wearing my heavy winter coat, or at least my dirty old man rain coat.