Gareth Wyn

2011 - a not so Top ten.

2011-12-31T17:05:00.000Z

As the end of 2011 approaches should make an effort to look back at some of the highlights, and low lights.

In the past I've commented on my favourite songs of the year - for some reason 2011 seems to have passed me by even more so than usual musically, and I can think of only two songs that have caprured my attention, one of which may even have been released as a single in 2010 and doesnot count

Villains of the year1. Top again is Benedict XVI - his loving caring attitude to gays has seen to that2. News International - for allowing its employees to hack the phones of anyone and if they could everyone3. Jeremy Clarkson - need I explain?Events of the year 1. Duckie's Copyright Christmas 2. Sam Amidon at the English Folk Dance and Song Society3. The Anti-cuts march

not even a hint of sprout.

2011-12-26T17:53:00.003Z

Christmas day for me usually begins sometime on Christmas Even when mam starts to prepare the food, this includes the chicken which is put in the oven to start slowly roasting filling up the house with lovely chickeney smells. Unless, has become a slightly more frequent occurrence I spend the season in London, even then the kitchen would have some form of Christmas wafting through it as someone or other would be preparing dinner. Not this year.

This Year was very different I went out to eat, at the Connaught Hotel, to be fed by 2 start Michelin chef Helen Darooze. We had a table booked for 11:45, and being Christmas Day, when there is no public transport in the city, we decided to walk. It didn't take us long about an hour to do the three miles, walking through a semi deserted London , except for the occasional car, and jogger. Things got busier when we got to Buckingham Palace, which had a throng of people outside - tourists I expect as after all most Londoners would know that the Queen is in East Anglia during Christmas. I wonder if they were there waiting for new on the health of the Duke of Edinburgh.

For the second time in my 17 years of living in London I walked through Berkeley Square, and there are still no nightingales in evidence.

Arriving with some time to spare we sat in the lounge, and enjoyed a pre lunch G&T, before taking our places in the dinning. Initially sitting in a wing chair I soon moved on to a sofa (I'm sure there is a posher word for it) mainly because my short arse legs didn't meet the floor in my original choice.

As you would expect the service was excellent every single member of staff I encountered was totally professional, courteous and friendly. Although it took until my third visit to the loo to get used to having someone turn on the water taps, and hand me a clean towel.

The menu had been on the website for some time, so had been getting quite excited about it all.

Started off with an Amouse Bouche of Lobster Bisque and a Chorizo Roll.

Then the first course Scottish scallop carpaccio, “Maldon rock” oyster cream, chive, caviar from Sologne - delicious and made me excited for what else was to come, my first experience of oyster and caviar.

Second course Terrine of duck foie gras from Landes poached in mulled wine, Christmas chutney with dried fruits. Again lovely, a huge chunk of tasted bread to go with it/ The terrine was silky smooth, and teh dried fruits added a burst of sweetness.

Third course

Royal-style Jersualem artichoke flavoured with Iberico ham, egg yolk,

Parmigiano Reggiano émulsion and black

trufflE.

- the only miss on the menu for me, not that there was anything badly wrong with the execution, my fellow diners enjoyed it, and one was more than happy to scoff mine. But two mouthfuls of it made me realize that it wasn't for me. Perhaps the flavours were just too strong for my palate.

Fourth course - and the biggest hit of the savoury courses,

Pavé of seabass cooked à la nacre, girolles, chestnuts cappuccino, white truffle

The sea bass was wonderfully salty, the girolles had a crunchy bite, a larger portion would have been very much welcomed, on a normal dinner plate.

Finally the last of the savoury dishes

Dodine of yellow capon, duck foie gras and black Périgord truffle, gartin dauphinois girolles and lardons.

I only have vague memories of this, as i think by now I was quite fit to burst. mainly I think due having eaten far too many of the fig bread rolls which were proffered at regular intervals in the run up to the first three courses, accompanied by lovely slices of butter, freshly taken from slabs which sat in the middle of the dinning room. The gratin was melty and soft, the potatoes having been sliced as thin as a sheet of paper, the capon was meat and moist, but perhaps by now I had overdone the savoury.

Then finally desert lemon tart, speculos tarts and lemon paper. This was no ordinary lemon tart , sitting in a bowl surrounded by a caramel sauce, it was as I said in the moments I took to eat it - divine and amazeballs. The best compliment I can give to a pudding is the length of time I take to devour it, I took it much slowly than I would normally wanting to enjoy each mouthful, the sharpness of the lemons hitting the spot each time I took a spoonful. Yes it sounds a bit poncey but the lemon paper was delightful and just melted in the mouth.

Not long afterwards we were enjoying a post lunch coffee in the lounge, and after settling the bill we headed home, too full to walk, and hailed a cab back to SW8/SW9.

2011-12-25T08:26:00.000Z

Nadolig Llawen - Merry Christmas

Advocaat

2011-12-24T15:11:00.004Z

A long time since my last post, but this for me unChristmassy of Christmas Eve's - no decorations in the house, no cooking smells wafting from room to room has just been made that extra Christmassy by buying a bottle of Advocaat.

A Facebook friend mentioned that he had bought some and had been drinking snowballs. So I went out and bought some too.

It now stands unopened in the kitchen, waiting to be mixed with some Lemonade, and i will be whisked back to my childhood.

Most of my Christmas Eve memories as a child take me back to my great Aunt's house. The Christmas shopping would have been all but finished, and mother was now looking for dad in some pub or other after he work Christmas dinner had finished. The next few hours I would spend inflating balloons, untangling ancient lights and unravelling equally ancient tinsel. I would then prop my self up on a piano stool and my Aunt would poor me some advocaat. It's gloopy yellowness being both scary and exciting and exotic. I never remember finishing a glass so I never got drunk - which is good as , I was not yet in Secondary school when this started - my mother claims to be totally unaware that I was plied with alcohol as a Primary school aged child.

This sort of became a tradition for a few years until I hit my teens , when I stayed at home during the parental pub crawl, and made do with babycham, and then when I was 16 I just did what other school kids did in West Wales in mid to late 1980's, went to the pub and indulged in underaged illegal drinking.

Soon however I will open that bottle and drinking to the memory of my great Aunt.

Flaming June

2011-06-17T17:49:00.002+01:00

yeah right, this time last year I was sweltering in a very hot and humid New York, today I have virtually stayed in my room all day away from the damp wet weather outside, it;s not even that warm. I know which I'd prefer.

Galvin at Windows

2011-06-17T15:28:00.002+01:00

Food - I love it, as many a post here proves. As the years pass I have become less fussy, and no longer turn my nose up at swede or pizza. I'm still rather proud of the fact that I have yet to buy a kebab when drunk, although it's only I've yet to overcome my fear of a full English from a greasy spoon.

I have however been less adverse to trying something a bit more up market. Last night was such an experience, when I had the opportunity to dine at Galvin at Windows, on the 28 floor of the Hilton on Park Lane. Im trying to save money , so probably not the most sensible of choices, but it was well worth it and a few months of baked beans on toast will see me back on an even keel.

We were fortunate that by the time we arrived the weather was clement, and the sky had hints of blue, as for much of the day it had been grey and wet, and it would have been a shame to have spoiled such a fantastic view over London.

But what we were really there for was the food and the drink. A lovely bottle of Champagnes started us off, before we were shown to our table, and some good quality bread to choose from as we decided on what to eat.

I decided on some seared foie gras, with a duck pastilla lemon confit in a date consommé , lamb for main with white asparagus, a green smear and a side dish of shepherd's pie. Whilst waiting for this the wine arrived a love Resisling, - I finally realized the value of a sommelier. We were given an amuse bouche - a white asparagus mouse topped with what I think was hollandaise and ham hock shavings. To be honest I could have just finished there and raved about that for the rest of the week.

But more was to come. The starter was delicious, the seared foie gras tender, the pastilla delicate and spicy, the confit smooth, and the date consomme had a subtle depth to it.

Next up a main, the lamb was served the recommended pink and it was sweet and tender, the best part of it however was the shepherd's pie which came in a side dish. The potato topping was perfect, the lamb mince beneath rich and thick one of those eating out occasions where you wold love to do an Oliver twist and ask for more.

Deserts are often a hit and miss affair, but this was not an issue last night. I plumped for the coffee creme brule, and the recommended desert wine. a dense aromatic Muscat. The fumes of which would probably set off a sensitive breathalyzer . It was well matched with teh pudding whihc had a crisp hard shell over a dense creamy centre.

The obligatory coffees , some petit fours, and a jar of lime and strawberry marshmallows - which I scoffed a lot of, then time to leave.

The two hours had slipped by quickly, and I was quite dad to be going. The service was wonderful, and Massi our dedicated waiter was lovely in all manner of ways. It may have been my first visit but I certainly hope it won't be the last.

Moans and gripes

2011-05-11T20:08:00.000+01:00

I need to start watching what I eat/ what I cook. Otherwise you might see me on Channel 4's Supersize v Superskinny
The London Borough of Lambeth have a new waster collection policy - or as they laughingly call it strategy. This means they do not collect bins from the inside of properties any more, instead all bins must be on the pavement. They must have good reason for this but I don't know what it is. It has been in operation for 5 weeks enough to make me believe that it needs a complete rethink. Next door have not complied with the requirement for the last three weeks, as a result a small mountain of black and orange bin bags are building up in their front yard. Having big bins on the pavement are a huge temptation for drunks to bang on late at night. After collection some bins remain on the pavement for a whole day, often blocking the footpath, I pity anyone who needs to maneuver a mobility vehicle around what is a council created obstacle course.
this is my first full week in the office since early April I don't like it.

Two meals

2011-04-26T15:52:00.005+01:00

When many people were celebrating the resurrection of Jesus, I was quietly celebrating something far more personal and important my birthday. I had no real plans, other than just eat chocolate and plans to go out every night over the long weekend came to naught, with only a visit to Duckie to talk about.

Late on Saturday I was texted by my landlord, he had booked a table for lunch to help celebrate. Destination - La Pont de la Tour, near Tower Bridge. Years ago when I worked in the Tooley Street offices of EBSCO I would often pass Butler's Wharf and Shad Thames the home of this restaurant, and thinking how nice it would be to be able to afford to eat there, this was when I earned half as much as I do know, it's really still not something which easily falls into my price range. Thankfully I was not paying and we were eating the fixed price menu of £30 for three courses and a glass of champagne. If I'm honest I'd not do it again. The atmosphere was pleasant enough, sat as we were on the riverside terrace. The staffing was efficient and probably the nearest I'll get to fine dining for sometime. I suspect that I will never be wealthy or even silly enough to pay £1350 for a bottle of wine (no there is no decimal point missing in that figure) . The food is what I was disappointed with even at £30 I would have expected something remarkable.

Unfortunately the food was unremarkable - the haddock soup that I had as a starter could well have come from a carton from the Covent Garden Soup company , - the accompanying bread was however very nice. The main was Duck , with crushed new potatoes and peas. The Duck was nice , but there was not much of it (admittedly portion control is not my strong point) , and the dressing used on the peas and spuds was too sharp and cold. The pudding was not bad, the best of the three courses a citrus creme brule, there was a lot of it, and it could have been a sharing dish for two if the main had been more substantial. Nothing too awful then but just a bit Meh! and not what I'd have expected all those years ago when passing it and dreaming of the ability to afford to eat there.

Yesterday, two friends sent a text, they were off to Hot Stuff for lunch a cheap and cheerful Indian restaurant in SW8. It's been a while since I had any food from there, and a few years since I had eaten there, and the first time I've been there since a recent refurb and the division of the eat in and take away into two separate premises. It was as far away from the Sunday experience as you could get, a small single room with no more than 30 chairs - probably less. , one wall filled with reviews from local and national papers - all very complimentary, and outside no river view, but the dug up pavements of Wilcox Road. We dispensed with the menu - and just accepted the suggestions of the waiter.

Just over an hour later we left stuffed to the gills with delicious food (and wine which one of my fellow diners brought with him) . All for £51.00 (not each for the whole meal). A starter of chicken wings, king prawns and the best bahji this side of the North West Passage were followed by a selection of curries fish, lamb chicken and vegetable, and a platter of 'magic mushroom' biryani which I wolfed down enthusiastically, and of course the Nann bread . The size of which can be seen by looking at the photo.

So basically the weekend proved that in terms of food quality you don't always get what you pay for, (or on Sunday's case what others pay for you)

Randoms

2011-03-13T12:41:00.002Z

a nice long weekend, - no work till Thursday
pity that I felt so tired that I actually stayed in on Saturday and was in bed before Sunday made an appearance
the occasional appearance of warm spring like weather lifts my spirits.
plans of a frugal and healthy February and March have come to naught, but what better way to ruin such good intentions that dinner at the Canton Arms, and a lunchtime treat of foie gras toasties.
experimenting with a clean shaven look again, and a hairstyle that require liberal use of Brylcreem

Off work

2011-02-21T15:22:00.002Z

no work since last Wednesday - yay
back tomorrow - boo
Not too keen on the reconfigured Tate Britain,
Went to the Chipotle on Tottenham Court Road - not cheap
somehow lost 3 lbs in a month - this is good, unsure how considering my diet is often made up of nutella and tangfastics
a bit fed up of the grey London skies

Brits 2011

2011-02-15T20:22:00.008Z

random thoughts

why James Corden
Mark Owen off Take That is quite the short arse.
until Christmas I had never heard of Plan B or Tinie Tempah
Based on Chasing Pavements I always used to think Adele was majorly pants - she's not half bad really
I've heard of Arcade Fire, but I've never heard any of their stuff
James Corden is letting himself go after a subdued start
I think I was one of the few people who didn't like Rihanna's Umbrella
Has Robyn been nominated for anything?
Justin Bieber - why?
Even blond Mark Ronson is rather tasty
Mumford and Sons - are they young farmers?
Simon Le Bon looks different
Plan B - phwar
The mastercard indents are even more annoying this year
Poor Mark Ronson
Robyn was robbed
Dermot still has it
Take That - there was a time I'd have groaned at this in displeasure
Must admit I thought Roger Daltry was dead

My Saturday

2011-02-12T18:27:00.002Z

a nice lie in
crepe and nutella from the market
roasting a pork joint
burning my fingers on the roasting pan
drinking wine
eating cake
watching rather dull Wales v Scotland Rugby.

My new friend

2011-01-18T12:25:00.003Z

I have a few days off work - not too many back tomorrow - but have made a new friend. Mr Dreaded Lurgy.

I'm hoping it won't be too long a friendship.

sign of old age

2011-01-15T23:19:00.002Z

I should be out dancing the night away at Duckie, but instead have spent the night at home alone in front of a roaring fire, drinking wine, eating ice cream and flicking between Merryl Streep in the Devil Wears Prada, and a Bruce Springsteen doc, and now the latter's Darkness Live show from 1978.

Winterwonderland

2010-12-29T21:05:00.003Z

Previous post on here will have let slip that when it comes to snow I regress to a form of childhood excitement. This was slightly tempered by the thought it could have stopped me getting home for Christmas, but it soon returned.

One reason I get excited is that I have memeories of 1982/83 when we had a couple of episodes of really heavy snow, snow so heavy that it meant school was closed for a week, and that getting to town meant a long walk, , and hitching lifts with passing tractors.

So it was with great glee that when turning into the drive at home I was greeted with a huge white out. Not exactly the blizzard that struck New York over Christmas, but enough to stick and freeze and make roads treacherous, on foot and in the car.

Every morning I'd wake up and squeal with excitement that it was still there, the white covering of cotton wool covering the landscape.

I'm hoping that we will get some more in the early part of 2011.

First Great Western

2010-12-29T20:27:00.003Z

Today returned back in London from my trip back home for Christmas.

As always it was a lovely relaxing time bookended by the awfulness of the train journeys.

The outward journey due to the snow of the previous week, and I feel bad complaining as in the end I was only an hour late in the end, although it meant that by the time I got to Carmarthen I really wanted to be home quickly.

The return journey was First Great Western at it's finest, I mean worst. First I had to be up at 7.30 to be sure of getting to the station by 9.30. Thankfully the car journey was smoother, on the way back the Top road from New Castle Emlyn to Cynwyl Elfed being clear, on the way up it had been impassable, although the main road was remarkably clear and well gritted which says a lot for the effectiveness of Carmarthenshire Council. The 9.30 start was my decision , as it was a cheaper train, and it was a direct one from Carmarthen no changing at Swansea, and I avoid the shittyness of Arriva Trains Wales, on the downside it was a longer journey, for some reason avoiding Reading and Swindon, instead going via Oxford, but armed with my ham sandwiches I would cope. But it turned out my hopes of a nice journey were marred by the fact that they were unable to provide a trolley service in First Class, they were one carriage short in First due, which made anyone who had a booked ticket for carriage G was out of luck, and the first working toilet I could find was two carriages down in Standard. Things got worse, sometime before the Severn Tunnel we were told that they did not have enough water on board to ensure that all the toilets on board worked, then at Oxford they ran out of hot water in the buffet car, so no more free coffee.

By the time I got into Paddington I was almost on the verge of turning to religion so desperate was I to get off.

Benylin is my friend

2010-12-18T08:54:00.002Z

Cough cough cough, splutter.

I have an 'orrible cough. early nights, and Benylin are helping, but I want it to go away now.

December will be magic again

2010-12-02T14:44:00.005Z

A few months ago I booked a few days off work, as I was planning on going to Lille to see a Duckie run event.

I then decided that I could not justify such frivolity. But still kept the leave.

The early winter snowfall made me so glad I did. Being out of the office being one, but a chance to see the snow.

The snow began falling just before I headed to bed.

I finally got out of bed this morning and having got used to the cold, went off to Vauxhall Park. No snowmen but lots of white stuff.

Let's hope it doesn't turn to brown slush too son.

Fantastic

2010-11-22T21:16:00.002Z

Although I've not blogged about it much recently, the mainstay of my life over the last 8 years or so has been Duckie. I've mentioned on numerous occasions on how discovering this club changed my life, and if I'm honest the DJs the indomitable London Reader's Wifes definitely deserve to be described as the DJs who saved my life.

On Friday I attended an one of a series of evenings called The Readers Wifes' Fan Club. Amazing is just one word that I could use it describe it. The music as one would expect was excellent.

But what made it was the act. Regular Duckie goers will own at least one album produced by the Wifes and handed out to punters who purchase Gay Shame tickets. The highlight of each Album being gobbets from fils, documentaries, soap operas and old comedies. From Paris is Burning to Carry On, From News Bulletins to adverts from the sixties.

The best known of these ( to the Wife groupie) were used as the basis of an hour or so of performance art, and a TOTP type countdown played out by Dickie Beau, Ryan Styles and Jess Love. I was enraptured by their brilliance from start to finish, and finally got to work out all of the rather threatening phone call made by Big Aggie from Torry. (Google or you tube this if this make no sense)

Almost tempted to go again next Friday, and it certainly has made up for my decision not to go and see Duckie host a night in Lille.

Five stars.

I've got chills...

2010-11-21T16:54:00.002Z

Cold isn't it, and apparently it will get colder although I am not convinced by Metcheck's assertion that it will be minus 5 on Friday.

The problem with the fact that it will get colder is that I won't feel the benefit of the thermals, as i've already been wearing them on and off for the last few weeks.

I doubt that we will have snow - does it snow in London in November? But with any luck the nights will be clear and crisp, making the walk home from work and enjoyable one. Dark cold moonlit walks along the Thames can't be beaten.

However it again reminds me on how soft I have become in the decade and a half I have been in London. Now as soon as it falls below 10 degrees I want to turn on the heating, yet as a child, I lived in a house with no central heating and with the exception of one huge heater which was used to help air clothes and lived under a clothes horse, the only form of heating in the house was one of two coal fires - only one of which was ever in action at any one time.

Perhaps as an anti-social teenager my sullen misery kept me warm, and stopped me feeling the cold air of a Welsh winter.

Fog

2010-11-15T21:48:00.001Z

there is a possibility that tomorrow will be at best Foggy, at worst misty, I'm looking forward to this.

For everything there's a season

2010-11-11T21:50:00.003Z

Yes the time for walking to work in a heavy winter coat, with two scarves. The time for sitting at home in front

of a roaring gas fire (not as romantic as a nice coal one, but this is London, where we are thankfully bound by the Clean Air Act. Finally going to bed with a hot water bottle, and wondering about getting out the extra duvet.

Of course if I am like this now, I will probably not feel the benefit when the winter weather of January and February hits.

I got it in the bedroom, I got it in the hall

2010-11-06T14:48:00.002Z

Yay, my replacement phone has arrived. And two days early too.

(post title from Meri Wilson's Telephone Man in case you were wondering)

Driving home for Christmas

2010-11-02T21:22:00.002Z

Or as a non driver - going by train. Yesterday I got round to booking my tickets back to Wales for Christmas.

Before booking I thought I'd see if I could get a better price by breaking the journey at random routes on the way. My plan was stymied by the fact that at times First class was not available and at others it was prohibitively expensive.

Back to square one, and opted for the full through journey Paddington to Carmarthen and back. The journey home at Christmas is always a hellish one, especially when you get to Swansea, waiting for that train to Carmarthen to arrive, and teh battle with shopping laden pensioners to get a seat. Something I wanted to avoid, although this time it was made easier by the pricing. Only two journey had a first class ticket in single digits.

The return journey proved even more problematic, as much as I would love to be off for teh whole festive period, I 'm providing cover for a few days between Christmas and New Year, and always insist in being in London to see in the New Year.

The prices were even more outrageous, and what was usually a 4 hour trip would be in excess of 6 hours on the train , unless I caught the 9.30 train, meaning leaving home at 8.30 at the latest, resulting in just under 6 hours on the train. So called Dad who would have to take me to the station to see if this was OK. Mother said it was. Tickets booked. Something ticked off my list. But what a palaver.

It certainly justifies my First class traveling.

But I may well stay in London for Christmas 2011.

hello darkness my old friend

2010-11-01T21:49:00.000Z

Left work at 5 this evening, the earliest for a while, yet also the darkest, and it will just get darker. I'm in two minds about this. Yesterday I started writing a post on how I find the days after turning back the clock depressing, not helped by the grey skies. Yet tonight walking along the Thames in the dark with street lights reflecting in the water just lifted the spirits. Hopefully the latter emotion will be the one that dominates over the next few months.

Still no phone

2010-10-28T20:30:00.002+01:00

Before I start my tale of woe, must just comment on hww amazed I am at seeing Nigella Lawson stuff her face with a chip filled kebab.

Last Friday my phone was kicked, I've sorted of managed without it, although it is annoying that my old iphone is a bit pants - being as it is almost three years old., with a dodgy Shift button.

Six days later the lack of contact from O2 Insure led me to give them a call. The message you get when calling in is that they have no iphone in stock - which worried me. I went on the interweb only to find that this has been an ongoing problem, the 3GS being a discontinued item. I really hope that this is not the case, and that I haven't inadvertently been giving my money to a bunch of con artists. I will wait another week.

He's on the phone

2010-10-23T20:39:00.002+01:00

Woke this morning, and unfortunately I had not dreamt yesterday's misadventures.

I was amazingly focused, cooked my self some breakfast a healthy mix of syrup, waffles and bacon.

Then the market, ironically the first song iTunes shuffle decided to treat me to was Saint Etienne's He's on the phone, my favourite records ever and ironically something someone else is experiencing with my phone.

Then town, for an O2 shop, decided on the one on the Strand , as I figured it would be quieter than the Oxford Street store. Glad I did, The customer service assistants were much more efficient, yet also friendlier than the wide boys that usually populate such stores. I got a substitute Sim card for my old iphone in moments. Dead impressed.

Cakehole London lemon drizzle cake for tea, and then a visit by the police. Brixton's finest. The cliche about policemen looking younger was true. I ignored the advice of friends to dress in a peignoir, and act like a damsel in distress, and just played it straight. I gave as straight forward a description of what happened, and although there is not much chance that it will be found or indeed the perpetrator caught I'm glad I reported it. I have no time for those who dismiss the need to report crime, as the 'police won't do anything' they are not superman able to catch thieves in a flash of a pair of flying underpants, and there are perhaps more serious crimes to deal with but it's important that they are recorded so that the figures produced are correct.

Should have done the Trafalgar Square anti0hate crime vigil, but preserving my energy for later.

Toerag

2010-10-22T22:54:00.002+01:00

Left work dead on five tonight the earliest in a couple of weeks, got to Sainsbury's did my shopping. Approaching home I checked my mobile, wanting to talk to my parents. Phone in hand one minute, the next it wasn't a youth on a bike had grabbed it and disagreed into a Stockwell housing estate.

I'm in an odd state at the moment I don't think I am in shock - after all I have made light of it on facebook and twitter, and have polished off half a bottle of Prosecco. But I am also quite annoyed, pissed off, and fucking furious.

Tomorrow I hope to be in a better frame of mind, and will never again take my phone out at night again.

Boundless enthusiasm

2010-09-28T21:10:00.002+01:00

My calendar for the last week has been reminding me that this afternoon I was due in Victoria for a course. Three meetings one after the other meant that come 12.15 I was cutting it fine to book a hair appointment, get lunch and get to my destination. I made it with some time to spare, having discovered a back route.

Being good, I even resisted the lure of a Krispy Kreme.

Arrived at reception, experienced a 'Your name's not down, you're not coming in' moment.

A quick call upstairs , they had no idea what course I was there to attend. After a rude dismissal from the security card, and a brief moment of thinking of not returning to the office but going home my work ethic kicked in, and went back to the grindstone.

Logged back on checked a few emails, and I was a whole month early. Better than being late, but I felt rather foolish and just a bit silly.

Saturday Shenanigans

2010-09-25T20:38:00.002+01:00

have managed agin to over trim the beard
three weeks after washing them have put away my clothes
managed to leave my Grindr account open on my iPhone , woke up to 52 messages - mostly from Americans. Some wanting to do dirty nasty things with me. Why didn't I get these offers when I was over there? And why don't I get these offers from the dozen or so who live within 500 meters.
made some peanut putter and nutella cookies today they were very nice

randomness

2010-09-22T18:58:00.002+01:00

weather is meant to turn for the worse tomorrow, will try and trick brain by continuing to wear shorts
failing to loose weight
failing to reduce food intake
still don't know why American's are scared of gay soldiers
confused about Stonewall and their views on gay marriage equality
is being a witch totally forbidden if you are a Republican
if you are a in the GOP which is worse masturbation, being gay, or being a witch?
having avoided soured cream for years I'm on my fourth tub in three weeks
that may explain the lack of weight loss
at the moment I still appear to have a job
I think this is a good thing

I love a man in uniform

2010-09-21T21:17:00.002+01:00

Again the whack jobs in the American Republican Party have pissed on the chances of gay American's joinINg the US Armed Forces, with their vote against the repeal of DADT. The opponents have come up with loads of spurious excuses, and even claiming that there would be a need for separate barracks for gay soldiers, as the straight ones would be scared by the presence of a gay man

I pity any country whose army is manned by men who have a fear of someone who may or may not like show tunes.

Let the sunshine in

2010-09-02T20:20:00.004+01:00

Last night was my second visit to Hair. After my first visit a couple of weeks back I was obsessed for days, an obsession which never really subsided and got a huge boost last night.

I'd found out the night before that it was Gavin Creel's last night as Claude our Hero. I left the house with the ticket in my back pocket and the walk to work accompanied by a few songs from the sound track was fraught with a paranoid fear that I would misplace it.

Eleven hours later I had arrived and taken my seat in the stalls, one of the first to arrive, and I was desperate for the fun to start. My second visit coincided with the zillionth but not final visit by Owen and Chris who were two seats away. I was in the same row as my previous visit but at the other end and nearer the aisle. Just before curtain up I spied a couple of women in front of me who looked as if they could be last night prudes, and wondered if they would return for the second half.

The curtain came up and I was a Hippy in 1960's New York, opposing the call to be drafted to fight in Vietnam.

I quickly realized that a few songs had passed me by during the first show, so pleased to have been reminded of them.

I again feel in love with Steel Burkhardt's Berger, with his seeming boundless reserves of energy, Anthony Hollock, one of the Tribe with the most expressive face, and of course the beautifully sexy Matt deAngelis playing Woof. I also had a soft spot for Oliver Roll who sang What a piece of work is man.

Being in Row L, and being that far in I was not expecting much in terms of the cast/audience interaction. But I was wrong. During Hair Darius Nichols crawled through the audience to Row L, touching and fondling the punters as he went, then with only one seat above us rose up and straddled the armrests either side of one very lucky lady. His mere presence on stage increased the testosterone levels with a single look, never mind a tweak of his nipple.

The female leads were equally lovely, in particular Allison Case's Crissy and Kacie Sheik's Sheila, and I cried again at Crissy's failure to find Frank Mills.

But the night belonged to the ridiculously handsome Gavin Creel, both he and the audience recognized the significance of this, and if he never performs again last night's show was a worthy final show (of course he has a fantastic future ahead of him). He celebratory delivery of I Got Life resulted in such a reaction from the audience that it briefly halted the show and we had to be signaled to cease the applause. A cheer went up when he exposed a delectable torso during Hair. In the final song before the Interval the emotion of Where do I go, o led to a tearful delivery, which added to the songs poignancy. Another crying moment for me. I was a bit of a gibbering wreck by the time the final scene and the rendition of Flesh Failure came round.

Of course it wasn't just me crying, there was a lot of laughter, and I got the sense that the cast were looking forward to the return to America, and were letting caution to the wind where faithfulness to the original script was concerned. The foul mouthed tirade by the Principal during Claude's hallucination being one example.

I again managed to get on stage, this time I had to barge my way through , and I hope the bruises inflicted go soon. There was another emotional moment where the cast thanked Creel for his love, support and energy throughout his association with Tribe.

Left on a high again, I wish the run was longer. It's not but who knows in a decade or so it will be time for another run, and I will again be wowed by happy hair hippies.

Rooms with no views

2010-08-31T20:37:00.004+01:00

I realized that I've not talked about my accommodation experience in America (three month almost to the day since I actually started the Holiday).

First off San Francisco, price wise this was the cheapest, 24 Henry. Owned by the genial Walter, with the deepest voice on the West Coast. A basic Bed and Breakfast, and if I'm honest more Bed than Breakfast. Minutes away from the the Castro, the Market Street tram and the delights of Buena Vista Heights . When booking I opted for the only room with an en suite, as I did not fancy sharing the communal bathroom. I need not have worried on this score as for most of my stay I was the only guest. Not exactly good for getting to know people but it also meant that it felt as if I was in my own place which was nice. The room was pleasant and large, and was bright and airy - occasionally very airy when the wind picked up - although I could have closed the bathroom window to solve that problem. A comfortable bed, meant that I slept well each night. It was also blessed with huge windows on two sides of the room, one overlooking the back garden, the second looking almost directly into the first floor kitchen of the house next door. A fact I kept forgetting, thankfully I didn't expose myself to the neighbours. That was Bed, what about the breakfast, there was no actually kitchen, the breakfast buffet was dispensed from cabinet which was closed after 11, on offer a few muffins, bagels and containers containing cereal, and of course coffee. If I ever return to San Francisco and wanted something affordable I would happily return.

Chicago was Villa Toscana, on Northalsted Street, yet away from main road., with a semi landscaped garden before one got to the front door. The room was again en suite, and was in what could be called a granny annex. apparently it was the old servant's quarters. It's main drawback for me was the lack of natural light, it's original purpose meant that it was at the back away from the street with narrow frosted windows. This meant that I had to keep the lights on each time I was in the room. I suppose servants were not really expected to spend much time in their rooms, and neither are holiday makers. The air con although welcome was also rather noisy and appeared to be centrally controlled. There was a Mediterranean vivbe to the room, with a bust of a Greecian god in the room. The bed was extremely comfortable, but as it was in an alcove meant that it was difficult to move in and out of it. I did however sleep like a log throughout my stay. Breakfast was in the kitchen and was a huge selection of cereals, juices, coffee. There was also a breakfast bar, which meant that it was a focal point to meet other guests, and the pleasant and friendly owner. Lack of light excepted I would happily recommend it, but would go for a slightly more expensive room.

In previous years I had always stayed in the Chelsea Pines when in New York, this time I decided to try the famous Chelsea Hotel, where my fellow Welshman Dylan Thomas stayed for the final days of his life. I actually regret this, and tells me I should have stuck with the tried and tested. I felt as if I was intruding and unwelcome throughout my stay from the moment I presented myself at the doorstep after walking from Penn Station. The receptionist made no attempt at making me feel welcome, the stroppiest Tesco checkout girls have better customer service skills. My room although in size was the largest of the three , it was also the sparsest and the lest comfortable, although I doubt a full duvet would have been welcome in the hot weather of an early New York summer, some good quality bed linen would not have gone amiss. The window was tall, even taller than the one in my Edwardian townhouse front-room bedroom, yet the light that entered was minimal, there was a blind which came half way down yet there was no way of moving it up to increase the light quality. The view was a number of other hotel rooms - which by the look of it were more expensive a blessed with more light than mine. It was also hideously noisy, the cleaning staff started to work early in the morning, and the noise echoed all over the corridors and passage ways. A more expensive room may well have been better but I doubt it would have resulted in a friendlier service, or a more comfortable stay. I certainly would not recommend it .

Hair

2010-08-13T12:50:00.002+01:00

The fact that a revival the 1960's musical Hair was in teh West End had somehow passed me by, and only when I saw the current Broadway cast do their stuff at the opening event of this year's Pride week in New York's Central Park did I even think about trying to get a ticket - by which time it was too late. But seeing the Hairy hippies have such a good time on that open air stage made me realize that I had to see them in London.

I could have easily have missed it had I not been told that the current West End run was coming to a close.

I booked a ticket and waited for the day to arrive.

That day was Tuesday , work had been rather fraught, so was looking forward to some fun. And fun is what I had.

I'm not going to bother with a breakdown of the plot - google it if you need to, just make sure you look for the plot of the stage version not the film.

There was a fabulous vibe which started at the back of the stage and went right to the back of the theatre. There was an excellent connection between the cast - especially Steel Burkhardt who played Berger - and the audience. The cast mingle with the audience - singing along the aisles, hugging the audience and playing with their hair.

At the interval I really wanted to be a long haired hippy.

An indication of how good it was is that I was not even annoyed by chatter coming from people sat in front or behind me.

The only question I would have though is what made the couple who sat next to me decide not to return after the interval. They were I would say late sixties early seventies, so would have experienced some of the hippy scene in their early adulthood, and would have been around when Hair was first performed. So they should not have been shocked at the language, themes or the nudity before the curtain came down at the interval. What I do know is that they missed a treat.

Oh yes I can now also claim to have danced on both the Broadway and West End stage. The former with Xanadu, the latter when after the curtain call the audience is invited to go on stage and dance with the cast. I knew this would happen, and was determined to go up. Apologies to those in Row L, who were trampled in my determination to get up there.

I left the theatre buzzing, and happy. The first thing I did on my arrival home was to book a ticket to see it again.

I can't wait.

Family history

2010-08-08T18:47:00.002+01:00

I was back in Wales last week, for my summer pilgrimage and the first visit to see the family since November 2009.

I was telling my uncle about the California Zephyr and the route it too. This was when he told me that his grandmother's brother died in Colorado. This wasn't entirely new to me but, it was a vague part of the family history. For some reason I had got it into my head when told this when I was younger that my great great uncle had become a successful entrepreneur in America and had died in a motor car accident involving electricity. This whilst not so far from the truth was a merger of two rather separate stories involving two brother who both left home to escape the poverty of West Wales finding different levels of success, but both dying in rather tragic circumstance.

The first being Tom, who left for America sometime between 1911 and 1913, when he was not yet 25 whether or not he had much contact with his family back home is not known, so we have little to go on, where how much the family knew of his adventures. What we do have is a letter a copy of which is filed away in the family Bible, addressed to my great grandmother, from a friend of Tom's with the sad news that in early August 1915 he was killed in an accident in a coal mine in Colorado.

Written in the most beautiful handwriting, and excellent Welsh, it gave a brief synopsis of the two years in the run up to the tragic accident. The American Dream was one which they had not experienced when they met, and the common language, nationality and experiences led to them getting together to travel in an attempt to find work. They left Colorado, and journeyed to Wisconsin and Iowa, with very little success in finding work. They finally both ended up in New Castle a coal mining town in Colorado. (Which is a town which I went through when on the California Zephyr - not that I was aware of it at the time) It was here that they found work as either foremen or fire-men the handwriting was unclear, one on the day shift the other on the night. But it was not to last. Tom touched some electric wires and was more or less instantly killed.

The sadness in his companions letter at the loss of a good friend is overwhelming, and when I finished reading the letter I had a few tears in my eyes. I imagined what it must have been like for my great grandmother when she read this letter, sent my a complete stranger, opening it with the possibility of exciting news from her brother, only to find that it bore only bad news of his death.

When I returned to London, I tried to find out a bit more, and have discovered that he lies in an unmarked burial spot in New Castle, maybe one day I'll go back, and visit.

The letter also mentioned the fact that the news within would have shattered one crumb of comfort my great grandmother would have had, being 1915, the USA was not yet involved in the Great War, but two of her brothers were in the British Army fighting the Germans and in one case the Ottomans. Tom of course was spared this, but the hope that he would be spared death was not to be fulfilled.

This is where the second part of my teenage interpretation of family history comes in. Along with the letter is another photocopy of a number of newspaper articles outlining the death of a David Ceredig John, yet another brother. This time in Quito Equador. This is where the car accident happened, and another family member lost his life at a tragically early age. However unlike Tom, David's had had a better run of luck. Joining the British Army, he saw service on the Western Front, and in Iraq, Iran, and India, eventually becoming a sergeant and joining the Indian Army as a Commissioned Officer. In 1923 he gave this up and started working for a Anglo-Ecuadorian company working his way up, and becoming by all accounts successful. In 1927, he returned home married a local girl, and then went back to South America. It is here that he suffered a tragic car accident , leading to severe head trauma. What is interesting is the contrast between the way the death of each brother was marked, Tom dying after years of desperate search for work, and being buried in an unmarked grave. David who was luckier in his career, finding love and being successful enough to have been influential in the Masonic Lodges of Lahore, and Quito. Perhaps his grave too warrants a holiday. Although taht would be a bit harder to trace I'm sure.

rain

2010-08-04T15:39:00.001+01:00

more rain, this is why the grass of Tom Jones' home is so green

Welsh test

2010-07-31T08:19:00.001+01:00

this is a test of sorts (sent via iphone eml) and also a quick way of saying how wet and grey it is in Wales. the grass is very green though.

I also have a vile cold.

Off Home

2010-07-29T22:25:00.001+01:00

tomorrow I head to Wales for a week. First time since November.

California Zephyr

2010-07-05T21:21:00.009+01:00

I've not blogged about the train journeys I undertook during my trip.

Got up at an ungodly early hour for a holiday, as I had to be at the bus collection point (there is no Amtrak terminal in SF itself) for an 8.30 bus, so early in fact that I was there at 7.45, and was as a result one of the first there, and probably could have caused a security scare as I left my suitcases in the waiting room as I scurried across to the Ferr y Building for some coffee from Peets Tea and Coffee.

It was a fairly quick journey out of San Francisco over the Bay Bridge to Emeryville. The station was surprisingly sparse, for a terminal serving a major city, more Swansea than the

Eurostar at St Pancras. It was a bright day, a sudden sense of foreboding

crept up when an announcement was made, the train was delayed due to

an electrical fault. Eeek I thought. had Great Western Railways taken over Amtrak overnight. Fortunately the delay was short lived and before long the California Zephyr cam along side. Within minutes I was climbing the steps from the platform up to the top deck. This is where one of the few disappointments of the journey happened. I had somehow got the impression that although small the cabin would be spacious, - it was definitely class as animal cruelty if I attempted to swing a cat, and there was no lock on my door, but all other sleeper passengers had that issue to so I decided not too worry.

Within moments we were off, was briefly welcomed by the attendant for the journey -Linda - and I settled down, and tried to fix my iphone which had suddenly decided to magnify all the icons, so that only six were visible at any one time.

We then started snaking through the California landscape, heading towards the Sierra Nevada Mountains. . Although at this early a stage I was not fully paying attention, and feeling a bit

hungry. Lunch was called and I ventured to the dining car. The waiter was a lovely Southern gentleman. The food was OK, not fantastic, and the plastic plates were disappointing. I was also disappointed with my dining companion for the meal, who was not exactly communicative and failed to really respond to my Hello.

Food eaten I headed off to the viewing lounge and spent most of the next two days there, although we were frequently encouraged over the tannoy system not to take it over and allow others a fair chance of seeing it.

Other meals were less socially inept, one evening meals was spent with couple returning to the Mid West, having attended the graduation of grandchildren, and I took great pleasure in demolishing their preconceptions relating to the NHS, and the Sarah Palin bogeyman of Death Panels and socialized medicine. I admitted that there were some problems but, the

y were amazed at the fact that prescriptions were cheap, and that you were not bankrupted by a stay at hospital. A second with a harassed mother and her two children returning home after visiting grandparents. This meal could almost have seen the destruction of my iphone when the boy spilled water all over the table. It also resulted in my being told that I sounded like Ewan McGregor !

The fact that I was going to be on board for two and a half days was one reason behind my decision to take a cabin. Although in retrospect I think I could have easily have coped with coach, the seats were huge and the carriages not that full. Of course there would have been far less privacy. It was surprisingly comfortable mostly, although I didn't have a solid night sleep on either night. I would wake at odd times at look out the window, seeing towns, power stations, and factories glowing in the distance. The oddest sensation was lying in bed on the first night with the sensation that the blood was rushing to my head, going up a mountain somewhere I supposed at the time.

Fortunately we were allowed off the train on occasions, generally for

refueling, and fag breaks. This was welcome as it allowed an opportunity to stretch my leg

s, and get some air, and some exposure to sunlight. In Reno I had what was probably my first real example of really hot dry heat. It was lovely, and could have just basked in the rays for the rest of the day.

The second night saw some excitement, we reached Nevada earl. Some thirty minutes early, or should I say the outskirts of Nevada. Amtark is expected to give way to freight trains, and we hung outside teh station for

an age waiting for the train to be given the a

ll clear. This took a while, so long infact that the sun had set and I had almost finished my dinner before we got in. Even then we did not progress, trackside difficulties apparently.

We were almost an hour late by the time we left. Suddenly, the self described 'Cafe Guy' (Ellis who was very friendly) made an announcement over the tannoy system asking for assistance, and the train stopped, for another twenty minutes. It transpired that a passenger who embarked at Nevada, had been ejected for being abusive and drugged up.

I spent a lovely couple of hours, with a bottle of beer, looking at the darkness, which was occasionally lit up by heat lighting A meteorological phenomenon that was new to me.(I attempted to photograph it and the result is the one with a flash of colour in the middle)

Another phenomenon resulted in my waking up at 7 the next day to see the Nevada countryside. A view which if we had been on time I'd have missed. We had been delayed through the night by Tornado warnings. I'll admit that I had hoped to see a few Tornados but probably it was best that I didn't. This did however mean that we were now three hours late.

This last day was probably the slowest, most 'boring' part of the journey. But that was because of what we had seen in the previous two days. My ini

tial reaction was - oh its a bit like Wales, with its rolling fields. Although the Mississippi River was again an amazing sight, and even so far from its mouth was surprisingly wide.

Then eventually we saw the skyline of Chicago, chugged in slowly. Disembarked, those including the Amish contingent , rushed to their connecting trains, other looked for red caps to sort out missed connections. I tried to find the exist and a taxi rank to get to my next room for the night.

Since returning I have described the journey and the views I saw as mind-blowing. For three reasons, the fact that much of it was bringing my Geography lessons back in school back to life, that the railway was built at all through such a landcape was a feat of human endeavour and the fact that thanks to a talk by volunteers from the California parks that we got an idea of how the European settlers in this part of America reached their destination and the difficulties they encountered.

It is unlikely that I will ever do this trip again, but the memories of the Sierra Nevada, the Rockies, Colorado River and the Nevada Desert will stay with me for ever.

Grossly Indecent

2010-07-04T20:04:00.003+01:00

Yesterday the gays and lesbians of London town all came out to play.

Yes it was London's Gay Pride day.

When I woke yesterday I was in two minds whether or not to schlepp into the middle of town to watch the parade, but after a visit to the Farmers Market in Oval I decided that I would. In the past I've alway managed to find a place just south of Oxford Circus, but my hesitation, meant that I got there a bit too late for that, and was therefore a bit nearer the end of the route.

I totally missed seeing Boris Johnson, or the Home Office Ministers who were there as part of the department's Policing and Equality briefs.

The parade was headed by the founders of the gay Liberation Front, quickly followed by a blatant attempt to hijack the whole thing by someone who was promoting his casting agency. No idea who he was, apparently he was on the UK version of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. What annoyed me most was that the flyers being handed out were only being given to certain 'types' young, good looking, nice teeth, fit bodies etc, - perhaps it was a casting agency for a porn film.

There was then the usual mix of professions, unions, and sporting groups, with a smaller number than usual of drag queens, and leather S&M types. The armed forces were again prominent. navy, army and Air Force. Their march past, was the cause of one the the highlights of the afternoon. When I finally found a place it was next to a group of small children (all under 10) and their parents and a grandmother. We were in the right place , so that the army stopped directly opposite us , for a good five minutes. One of the fathers explained to his daughters that they were there because they were proud to be serving their country, and also that they were proud to be gay. He followed this with an emphatic assertion when asked that there was nothing wrong with being gay.

After this I wandered down to Trafalgar Square, but did not stay as Gross Indecency beckoned, and I needed to get ready.

Last year was the last Gay Shame produced by Duckie. This year they had something similar but also different. Gross Indecency was a 60's themed night, specifically pre decriminilasation of gay sex 60's night. The punters were dressed as Mods, Rockers, Dolly girls, city gents, and the music was all appropriate to the theme of the evening. It was as I told a number of people the best post Gay Pride Duckie night I'd attended. The venue Camden Centre was more intimate than the Coronet in the Elephant, or last years' Brixton Academy.

On buying a ticket we were also furnished with a password which we had to use to gain entry, again adding to the authenticity of the evening. Although the use of iphones and digital cameras did occasionally detract from the 60's theme. Even the music - in the Piano room side bar at least - was in Mono. A Dusty Springfield tribute, preceded a Bird La Bird hosted early sixties catwalk which included two seventy something lesbians sporting the butch / femme look. We also had a police raid. Although fortunately unlike the 60s we were not arrested or beaten up by them but following a uniformed parade accompanied by Frankie Vallie's Walk Like a Man we were treated to a magical dance by six gorgeous men, to the sound of Downtown, as can be seen in the video below.

The downside my drunkeness, I decided to have a night of lager drinking, Red Stripe being the only one on offer. Falling asleep on the dance floor is not something I've done since my student days. So as well as visiting the sixties, I also had a quick stop over in the early 90s.

Today I suffered, but it was worth it.

One week later

2010-07-04T19:52:00.003+01:00

I've been back in London for a week, I need another holiday. My sleep patterns are still rather flaky, jet lag, late weekend nights and the heat have not really contributed to my beauty sleep. I'm also aware that as someone has just pointed out to me that my blog has not exactly been overflowing with what I did on my holiday.

I will have to rectify that.

Dancing

2010-06-23T22:01:00.008+01:00

In the last week I have been to see two dance performances at the Joyce Theater here in Chelsea. One was very enjoyable, the other was a disappointment.

Friday night I was fortunate to secure a ticket to see a show by the John Jasperse Company. It's had everything I want from a dance show - good music, fine dancing, sexy dancers and it was fun. Split into two halves, Black and White. Each half having the dancers and background decked out in the appropriate colour.

The first part was by far the most enjoyable, and in my view accomplished, with the four dancers tightly moving along the dance floor in close synchronization. A later dance involved the men in skimpy thongs crawl animilastically along the stage while the women standing dancing to what I discover is Genuwine's Pony. This must have been the dance which we were warned about on entering the Theatre, about the existence of nudity. As a Duckie goer, two topless women didn't shock me one bit. The second half was more subdued - all in white , accompanied by the International Contemporary Ensemble. Looking as if it was a 1920's day out, it erupted into a choreographed fight between Jasperse and one of the female dancers. There was also what I thought an overlong section, where teh dancers were all but motionless, with doilies on their heads. Good, but it just went on a bit too long.

As is a common trait of my theater reviews I must mention the eye candy, the two other men in the company Neal Beasly, and Kayvon Pourazar were absolutely scrummy one ginger and bearded, teh other dark and swarthy, and both fantastic dancers.

I would also say that this is the kind of performance that would lend itself brilliantly to the RVT stage for Duckie.

The second dancing event was last night Savion Glover- I was enticed by the fact that he would be asking the question, can you see sound? Savion Glover is apparently a well known tap dancer with a great reputation, but on what I saw last night very little personality. I'd bought a cheap seat, but the lack of punters meant I was allowed to move to one with a better view.

The first half was almost totally devoted to Glover as a solo artist, with occasional appearances by others who had little more than standon roles. There was a lot of talking, but this was all directed to the back of the stage and not the audience, and it was difficult to tell if what we were seeing/hearing was music, or the tap-dancing.

The second half was marginally better with dancers from DiVA Patrol and GALxc9, taking centre stage, but where as Jasperese on Friday was all fluid, this was a very disjointed effort, almost as if they were going through the motions perhaps the less than full house had an impact. The only thing in the whole night which I took away with me was the guy in the yellow with wearing a Tribe Called Quest Tshirt, the rest of the night to be honest bored me rigid.

A day at the theatre.

2010-06-17T05:04:00.003+01:00

My first full day in New York, was mostly spent in a Theatre - unlike UK ones air conditioned theatres.

La Cage aux folles, which started off its run in London, which I never got round to seeing, Kelsey Grammer was in attendence to play his role of Georges, Douglas Hodge who won a Tony for the role of Albin was absent but was ably replaced by Dale Hensley.

It was a great way to start my holiday in New York. There was nothing that I did not enjoy, the acting , the singing the choreography the story. I was well impressed at the way in which Georges and Albin demonstrated their love for each other, and what they would do for their son played by A. A. Shively, Jacob the maid/butler was undoubtedly the funniest played by the hilarious Robin de Jesus. Les Cagelles were magnificent, dragged up to the eyeballs, and extremely sexy, especially the one with the amazing upper chest, who played the more reluctant member of of the troupe.

I left teh theatre feeling uplifted, but again guilty, I really should head to the Chocolate factory to see thier work, , I can't wait until I visit New York, as I similarly didn't see the revival of Sunday in the Park with George until it transfered to the left side of the Atlantic.

This evening it was Promises Promises, another Tony award winner, starring Sean Hayes (of Will and Grace) and Kristin Chenoweth (Glee ,and other US shows I've not heard of) I enjoyed this tale of an ambitious office worker (Hayes) in 1962 New York attempting to progress up the greasy office pole, by allowing his senior colleagues to entertain their mistresses in his apartment. One of these was Chenoweth, a waitress in his office building he he had fallen in love with. This too is a revival, yet the songs were very familiar - I say a little prayer, I'll never fall in love again. . Hayes was a good singer, but I found that Chenoweth's singing voice lacked the required strength (but being tone deaf what do I know) But the acting was strong, and as the play progressed ( and it was a long play so it had a lot of progressing, that the story also got stronger. The best character being Katie Finneran's Marge Macdougall. It was not as fun as Cage, but it was a good way of spending an evening. It was also a good way of making my own mind up about the recent controversy over the ability of gay men to play straight characters, in the case of Promises Promises I think that Hayes played it brilliantly, as brilliantly as Grammer a straight man played gay.

Just got in from the Windy City

2010-06-16T14:46:00.002+01:00

to a very humid one, no wonder New York never sleeps, it's far to hot here. Staying at the Hotel Chelsea, two shows to see today, and one tomorrow, no plans as yet for rest of my stay except meeting former housemate on Monday.

Less Windy city - more wet city

2010-06-14T03:02:00.003+01:00

After what was a rather lovely warm period in San Francisco, and a dry sunny trip through the Western half of the North American continent, Chicago has been a bit of a disappointment, it certainly was hot on my arrival, but since then it has generally been wet. Yesterday I got caught at least three times in rain, and at least once today.

Fortunately I was wearing shorts and sandals so dried

out quickly, but am sure I have caught a chill.

Yesterday I mostly spent walking, the Threadless T-shirt shop buying almost the whole of the weeks new collection.

Then into the Centre of the city, due to the wet weather and cloud cover decided against the delights of the John Hancock centre or even the Sears Tower, little point if the view was going to be restricted. Bought some 'famous' Garrett's popcorn, then made a decision to walk back to the Hotel, via the lake front.

This was simultaneously a silly, and a good idea. Silly because it was one long walk, and the exits from the Lake onto the city streets were limited. On the other-hand I walked along the beach, dipped my toe into Lake Michigan and saw some fabulous cityscapes.

quick update

2010-06-12T06:52:00.003+01:00

have finally arrived in Choiago, my it is hot and humid, Arrived 3 hours late due to the ejection off Amtracks California Zephyr of some drugged up loon and a delay in before reaching Nebraska due to tornado warnings,

A more lucid update will follow,

California dreaming

2010-06-09T05:14:00.004+01:00

Typing this on my last full day in San Francisco. It is a very different city to New York, smaller, for one thing.

I have by all accounts been very lucky with the weather, sunny for my whole visit, the early fogs disappearing by the time I have left the B&B. As always poor forward planning meant that I probably didn't see everything I should have, but may have done things that some tourists don't. Also jet lag meant that I didn't really go out that late and have not really sampled the San Francisco gay scene at all.

Thursday night I went and saw Our Lady J do her Gospel for the Godless show at the Razz room , - an acoustic , solo act without her usual scratch choir, - it was as I knew it would be amazing.

Friday, up early Alcatraz, it was a short trip from pier 34, and if I had wanted to I could have stayed until 6 in the evening, but it does make me wonder if anyone has ever been left behind. The cells although cramped and claustrophobic were not as forbidding as I had imagined.

Saturday a mix of Buena Vista park, Golden Gate Park, and the Haight. The views from Buena Vista were rather spectacular, a wooded hill, slap bang in the middle of the city. It also showed the climatic variation that one can experience in the city. When I left Henry st, it was sunny, hot and shorts weather. Up on the hill, it was damp, foggy and cooler. The Golden Gate Park , the gateway to the coast, not that I got near. A key feature of this holiday is taking wrong turnings, today I ended up in a suburban maze, away from bus lanes.

Sunday - The Mission Dolores, Fisherman's Wharf, The mission one of the oldest if not the oldest buildings in the city, Avoided the tourists trap eateries along the wharf , and was not at all tempted by Hooters and built up a hearty appetite Russian and Nob Hills, lots of walking, and loads of views of the city, Lombard Street being a notable one.

An hour or so on the steps of Union Square taking up the sun.

Monday - I took it easyish - Corona Heights another viewpoint to see the city, a touch of shopping and an early night.

Today was the Presidio, and the coastal approach to the Golden Gate Bridge., and the Howell Mason cable car. Sitting on a bench overlooking the sea was relaxing, and brought back memories of an old encyclopedia I had a kid, with a picture of Walter Raleigh overlooking the Pacific, as he was apparently the first European to have seen the Pacific from the Californian coast, some five centuries later, I was sat not that far away from where it is claimed to have happened.

Favourite thing about the city, a close call of seeing the whisps of smog enveloping the hills, or the F, Castro - Market Street streetcar. Or Cars, the City has bought streetcars from cities all over the US and even Europe, so each ride on this route is just that little bit different, and the gay men with beards - beard envy city - odd now that I am currently clean shaven.

Least favourite, homlessness, there were a huge number near skidrow, by City Hall, but also in the Castro. THw wind, at night the winds appear to invade the city, and finally the fact that people seem to think my name is Carlos!

Tomorrow - I need to catch a train.Bye bye Sunshine State, hello Windy City.

Gareth goes Stateside - part 1

2010-06-06T03:13:00.002+01:00

I have now been here for three days so about time I had an update.

Woke up at sparrowfart on Thursday, got to Heathrow with little hassle. Checked in, waited and then got on the plane. It was then I realsied that I had somehow changed my seat booking so instead of a window/aisle seat I was in the central bank of four seats and not on the aisle This I hoped was not an indication of things to come.

The flight was uneventful, although the ginger haired hostess really should learn how to smile, and I almost lost my iphone when I left it on the floor of the airplane toilet.

Got through passport control, although felt utterly grilled about my motives for teh visit and why I was travelling alone.

Then after a much needed visit to the euphemistically named Rest room - customs, unfortunately the customs form was a bit damp. Customs officer was not at all impressed.

Then came how did get to the city itself. San Francisco airport is huge, and in a bid to save money decided to get on the BART. Took me at least 20 minutes to find it. Buying the ticket was an experience, put in your 10 dollar note, press a button to take off 2 dollars, another to add a few cents, presto a ticket.

Finally got to the city, got lost- the streets are no logical in my humble opinion. Finally got to 24 Henry.

That's enough for now.

two days/ one week

2010-05-26T22:54:00.002+01:00

I hate the modern fad of describing the number of days until a significant event as sleeps. It would also be inaccurate as I have a disco nap on Saturday's so would need to subtract that from any total to get an accurate number of days.

Gripe over, only 2 days remain of work, before my month long break from the place begins, and only a week until I jet off to San Francisco.

Such a big gap means I have a a mixed week at work, no new projects to start, emails to my line manager to update her of what I have done, problems she will need to deal with, and gloating comments about my absence. But lots of loose ends to tie, objectives to write, instructions to leave.

But 5 pm Friday I look forward to wishing the office a good bye.

I just hope by the time I return that I have a job.

Llwyth

2010-05-21T19:57:00.005+01:00

Last night I went to the Oval House Theatre, to see Llwyth (Welsh for Tribe, and not Tripe as my mother misheard me on the phone last night) a mostly Welsh language a play about five gay men set in Cardiff, on a night after Wales had lost a Rugby match.

The first time I've been there despite the fact that it is only ten minutes walk away from the house.

It was a play which grabbed me, and didn't let go until the end.

Although the opening scene is set in London, - a description of a bike ride through a sunny London street, by Aneurin who is on his way to Hampsted Heath for some sex. His description peppered with descriptions of the sexy hordes of men brought out by the warm Spring weather, his fun disturbed only by an unwanted call on his mobile from his father. The rest of it takes place during one booze and drug fueled night in Cardiff, and looks at the relationships and friendships of a group of four men. Dada the oldest of the group, and a couple Gareth and Rhys. Later on we meet Gavin a schoolboy, infatuated with the cult of celebrity.

If I was expecting something light and fluffy I was going to be disappointed I was truly put through the emotional wringer, Aneurin's relationship with his parents, Dada's 'hiraeth' (a Welsh World with no real English equivalent) for his childhood home, a rather run down, and now all but derelict council estate, but one with fantastic views of the City, what were unarticulated regrets on giving up a West End stage career to return home to look after a sick mother. The insecurities in the relationship between Gareth and Rhys, mismatched on an intellectual and lingustic level, and then the naivty of Gavin, who in one evening is introduced to cocaine, K, and poppers.

There were however loads of things in it which made me laugh. From the rather graphic description of Aneurin at an orgy. References to Welsh icons such as Jenny Ogwen, Beti George, Hywel Gwynfryn (God apparently has two heads, Beti and Hywel's) and a fantastic hallucinogenic appearance of Aneurin's mother who suddenly appears out of a smoke machine and looks very much like Margaret Williams, singing a Welsh translation of Bette Midler's From a Distance. Such references I am sure will have made no sense to many in the audience who were depending on the surtitle, but would have made sense to those who remember the days when S4C on a Sunday night would regularly have Margaret Willams singing hymns, traditional Welsh songs, and some rather dodgy translations of middle of the road English classics. Lord knows how she would have coped with Lady Gaga.

What really made this a play worth seeing was the quality of the writing, and the high standard of acting. It was written in a modern Welsh idiom, none of the 'pure Welsh' which when I was in school in the eighties we were expected to write our stories, and plays. This took into account the fact that Welsh speakers often code switch between English and Welsh (something which really amazes people who over hear my phone conversations with my mother), often alternating sentences. So natural is this to me that it was only in the post-performance talk that I realised that Gareth played by a non-Welsh speaker had uttered no more than half a dozen Welsh words throughout the whole play.

The whole cast was fantastic, with a polished tight performance. Simon Watts who played Aneurin is definitely one to watch, with his performance of an angry, yet frightened young man, I also enjoyed Danny Grehan's Dada, a more experienced, yet equally damaged old hander on the gay scene.

This morning when I woke I thought if I could I would go again tonight - unfortunately the tickets are all sold out.

Two better reviews can be seen here and here

two weeks

2010-05-19T21:57:00.002+01:00

before I go on my Trans-American holiday
for the pound to strengthen
for the Icelandic Volcano to stop billowing
to work out what I'm going to do for the three weeks I'm there
to loose a couple of ounces
to bemoan the fact that I haven't lost a few pounds
of putting up with the joy of work
until I get away from the uncertainty of whether or not I will have work to come back to

Just want to get errected.

2010-05-08T11:26:00.002+01:00

Most of the hits on my blog in the last 24 hours have been for people searching for sexy MPs. With the occasional exception of Americans with a uniform fetish looking for sexy Military police I'm assuming most are people wanting to have an idea who of the newly elected members are worth having dispatch box fantasies over.

As I advocate the use of current information in my job on a regular basis maybe a review is necessary. It will keep me out of mischief when the promised rain arrives over the weekend. One person I know who won't be appearing is Jacob Rees-Mogg who probably wasn't even sexy when his look was actually current in the early part of the last century.

Mango Tree

2010-05-07T22:30:00.002+01:00

On Wednesday night I went along as a guest of teh landlord to dinner at the Mango Tree, a Thai eatery near Victoria with other members of a gay dining club.

The consensus was that we would not return.

A huge auditorium of a eating hall. Far too noisy , sounds vibrated from one end of the room to another, yet it was all but impossible to hear what was going on the table at which we were sat.

Staff were generally rather rude, and unhelpfu.

Food was mediocre at best and barbecued chicken with salad is not as far as I know traditional in Thailand.
l
If ever you are given the chance, please do not go. YOU wil regret it.

telephone numbers

2010-05-03T11:00:00.002+01:00

Last night before turning off the lights and going to sleep I was reading some David Sedaris Me Talk pretty one day, one of the stories where he deals with his attempts to learn French, through the medium of audio tapes, and how he learns how to recite a ten digit phone number in that language, but as a result he is unable to remember any other ten digit phone number.

This got me thinking, if I was to be locked in a room now and integrated I would be unable to give you my mobile or landline numbers. After being caught out all to often I now make a point of writing them down if i am going to call someone who will end up asking me for one or t'other. The only London number I know off the top of my head is my work number. Nothing else.

Yet I remember numbers from my childhood perfectly, I obviously remember my parents (easier in Welsh than English) , my uncle and Aunt's and my dad's old work number. Until dad retired last year they were the only numbers I would really need if I had to call someone in Wales with a family emergency.

Yet I then realized that I still remember my great Aunt's number, almost twenty years since she died, and even though I last called it in the late 1980's I also recall the number of my chapel Minister. Perhaps I should forget these two and make room for more current numbers. Or should I just continue writing them down on paper, or checking my iphone when asked.

May Day

2010-05-01T19:12:00.000+01:00

Rain, that's enough you can go away now.

On the hust.

2010-04-27T22:40:00.005+01:00

I have no idea if hust is a word, but if painting can have paint then I am sure hustings can have hust. So today I went to the general husting for candidates standing in the Vauxhall constituency.

My fifth general election, but the first time I have attended any general election related event since the 1983 adoption meeting of Cynog Dafis as Plaid Cymru candidate.

It was held in the uninspiring surrounding of St mark's church - although I did want to know more of the life of the chap commemorated on the wall, who died aged 24 in China, in 1900. I got there rather early, which is good as I could pick a seat and not force myself to have to sit next to anyone.

Seven of the candidates were there, two were missing the English Democrat who has the most unEnglish of names, and a lady from the Christian Party - who if I'm correct still get bankrolled by monies from that so called gay anthem So Macho.

Kate Hoey was one of the first to arrive in a salmon pink/peach overcoat which must have been way to warm for her, and she kept it on all evening, then Caroline Pidgeon , it was not long before they were chatting together amicably . Old style political consensus is not dead.

It started to fill up with some familiar faces.

The vicar of the parish took charge and set the ground rules, an opening statement, a statement on the candidates moral compass, then open to the floor, clapping was allowed, booing discouraged, and arguing with fellow audience members was not allowed. Phones were also to be turned off. I turned my iphone to vibrate, and got ready to twitter. Unfortunately my phone died after about 40 minutes. So I was unable to do much.

Questions ranged from the fate of the Triangle (a hyper local question) , to LGBT rights (a unsubtle dig at Kate Hoey's record in this area) to Eduction, domestic violence and whether or not Blair should be tried as a war criminal . This last question was the one which cause most excitement. The questioner objected to the rephrasing, as it looked at just the rights and wrongs of the war, and go increasing agitated as time went on. After a few curses, a threat to call the police and the waving of a banner which described both Brown and Cameron as wankers he left. Things sort of quietened down after that.

(Morning after edit I missed out a mention for the first question asked by @Jason_Cobb referring to David Cameron's visit to Vauxhall that very morning to bang his Broken Britain drum )

What about the candidates.

first off - Glyn Chambers - the Tory, who looked less blond, and definitely less gay than he does in his election leaflets. Treated the first question as a graduate would his first job interview after university, sound bites to describe himself with very little substance to back it up. Much of what he had to to say was typically conservative family, faith, broken Britain, but all done so nervously it was difficult to work out if he actually believed this. Claimed that there was such a thing as society - has some one told Mrs Thatcher that yet - and hedged his bets of gay rights. Nothing too controversial. Unsure if he was standing just because the Tories had to put up a show, but if he has any political ambition he needs to improve his speaking style.

(Morning after edit 2. Glyn Chambers repeated something which appeared in his campaign literature - Crime has increased incredibly in the last century, yes seriously. Crime rate in 2010 are now worse than they are in 1910. Any credibility he had then went out the window, an easily demolished argument which may convince the average Daily Mail reader but not the good folk of Vauxhall)

Kate Hoey - kept repeating what she had done in her time as MP, that she was independently minded, but was generally proud of what her government had achieved. Was unafraid to criticize where appropriate not only the government, but also the local Labour council in Lambeth. Did a reasonable job in defending her LGBT record although would Peter Tatchell agree with her interpretation of his views?

Caroline Pidgeon - I have on a number of occasions been critical of her on this blog, having commented on the annoying way she speaks when she appears on telly, with inane comments about transport policy. But I rather liked her this evening. Came across well, and was actually non-partisan in the way she answered her questions, and she want gays to hold hands (anything to do with IDAHO I wonder) Her statements on social housing were however spot on, no wonder I never got an application form from Lambeth when I asked for one to see if I could get on the housing list. They knew that it would be a waste of time.

Joseph Healey is the Green Candidate, and answered the questions well, no major political grandstanding but he was insisting that there was a clear divide between the Greens and the three main parties.

There were two left wing candidates, the Socialist Party, and the Anticapitalists - Workers Power, Daniel Lambert of the former, came across as the worst of the two. On the first two questions he was quick to slap down the vicar's attempts to get him to keep to the two minute limit which had been imposed, and had to be told forcibly when it came to questions from the audience that he should remain seated when answering. Just as Glyn Chambers spoke a like an eager inexperienced graduate at an interview, Lambert reminded me of an eager Trotskyist undergraduate who turns round everything he says to the one them. In this case bankers stitched us up. I think he lost any really empathy when he oddly claimed that domestic violence was caused by poverty. I am sure there are many comfortably middle class wives in Lambeth who are the victims of this crime, so not the most sensible thing to say. Jeremy Drinkall was far more measured, and would have pre Blair been comfortable in the far left wing of the Labour party. His answer on LGBT rights was also far more conniving.

That leaves me with one final candidate James Kapetanos, - The Animal Protection Party - a single issue candidate - animal welfare and it showed. Although less nervous than Glyn Chambers he had nothing really to contribute to great swathes of the debate, unless he was taking a side swipe at Kate Hoey's Chair of the Countryside Alliance and her support for killing foxes by hounds. I for one don't agree with her on this but making comments that she would free up green spaces in Lambeth for fox hunting, or that her human right's visits to Zimbabwe were a cover to do some hunting wore thin quickly, and he was booed on a number of occasions. I actually think that Hoey handled this rather well, and at one stage made a joke about the number of foxes in Lambeth. I suspect if he ever stands again he'll either prepare himself a bit better or avoid the hustings all together.

Who got my vote? - that is a secret - but you may probably guess who won't. But one thing I have learnt that local politics is not boring, and people do care.

Other peoples opinions on the night can be seen here and here.

Life begins-...

2010-04-25T17:25:00.004+01:00

they say at Forty, and if that is the case it should be a good one. Although there are a lots of things I need to achieve which I probably should have before I entered my fifth decade of life - like owning my own home, being financially secure to name two.

Yesterday was a lovely day, the Oval Market, where I bought some Nick Clegg and Gordon Brown cupcakes, breakfast at the Oval lounge, an afternoon in the park, nice warm sun, and a gentle breeze blowing the cherry blossom of the Lavender Garden in Vauxhall.

Then Doctor Who, the return of the Weeping Angels and a crass decision to superimpose a cartoon image of Graham Norton on screen in the episode finale.

Then Duckie, with my dramatic new look - a Bow tie.I'm hoping with distract from all the grey hairs .

Got there earlier than usual, and was let in free by the Cloths. Goy my drink, Amy bought me a drink. Got two FROATS dedicated to me, which made me quite emotional, and then a final Happy Birthday from the DJ booth by Chelsea Kelsey before the final three songs of the evening.

Now I have a whole week to recover.

Happy Birthday

2010-04-24T19:55:00.001+01:00

to me. Today I turned 40. So far the world has not ended.

randomness

2010-04-18T21:48:00.002+01:00

The Hoist appears to be advocating Kate Hoey in the election.
still not been visited by a prospective councillor or even MP. My list of questions is growing.
Forty on Saturday so why do I have a zit?
Really hoping this Icelandic volcano sorts itself out by the 3 June, if I don't get to go to San Francisco I will be annoyed.
Torn between dread and joy at thought of the volcano stopping me coming back from New York a few weeks later.
Went to the park today, and left my glasses there! Thankfully didn't go to far before I realized this!

Blank canvass

2010-04-14T23:17:00.003+01:00

Was on the phone to dad this evening, and again he's been trawling the villages of Ceredigion selling the benefits of voting Plaid Cymru. This reminded me of the fact that when I was a wee kid that there would often be a number of Plaid people, some quite senior members of the part too I think, in the house around election time, I can remember 1979, and there must have also been people there in 1974, it was also a time when the local parties would often be represented by colours which did not match with those of their London bosses. I swear that Cardigan (as the constituency was then called ) Tories were Red, and the Liberals Blue. Or was this Dad just trying to make fun of a pre teen's interest in politics.

It also got me thinking that in the 16 years I have been in London I've rarely had canvassers at the door. None at all in Walthamstow for the 1997, and 2001 elections. Since I've been in the Vauxhall constituency, I have been visited twice, both by Labour once in the last Borough elections, where their plea was that if I couldn't vote for them, at least not to vote foe the Liberal Democrats (an admission perhaps that the much derided Only the Lid Dems can beat Labour hear claim may actually be true), and in the last but one London Assembly elections when Val Shawcross came to my door asking for my support, despite the fact that she had been rather hopeless in dealing with a complaint I had made about some local noise issues.

So far a week and a day into the 2010 campaign I have had one letter addressed to me by Caroline Pigeon who unfortunately brings out a similar reaction in me when I see her on telly as produced by Boris Johnson, perhaps if she did something other than whine negatively I would be less turned off. At the same time a pamphlet asking me to vote for the Liberal Democrats in Stockwell Ward. They really need a better picture editor. So far nowt from the Tories, which doesn't surprise me , although I would love to quiz Glyn Chambers on his views regarding gay marriage, Bed and breakfasts, gay adoption, and how he is going to help me get on the property ladder. (Although at least he has an active up to date website for his message unlike his rivals) I would ask similar questions of Kate Hoey in relation to gay issues, as despite representing one of what could be called London's gay neighborhoods her voting record in this area is not great. I wonder if the Green candidate will make an attempt to canvass or will as Jason Cobb has pointed out will he be looking for votes in the far flung parts of the constituency such as Brighton, Turkey, or Italy?

and does anyone have suggestions what I could do tomorrow when the 3 leaders have their TV debate?

Gay Flash Mob

2010-04-12T20:54:00.002+01:00

Recent attempts by the Conservatives to portray themselves as soft and cuddly when it comes to gay rights have unravelled. Christopher Grayling suggested that he may actually support the right for B&B owners to bar gays from their premises. David Cameron was unable to really defend himself from accusations that his party was consorting with homophobes in the European parliament (including the recently dead President of Poland) .

As a result of all this there was what was described as a flash mob at Millbank yesterday, outside the Conservative Central HQ (when did it stop being called Conservative Central Office) The turn out was in the low hundreds, plus some press cameras, and two policemen who were filming it all from the other side of the street.

There were a few regular faces, including Peter Tatchell. With some chanting mostly of an Anti-Tory nature. As a Flash mob it was over quickly by 2.30 I left and went for a pizza, and a hair of the dog beer. From our viewpoint in Pizza Express we could see other flashmobers make their way towards Westminster. And one poor soul dressed like pikachu from Pokemon armed with a Tory Nightmare placard, who was walking towards the demo, when probably everyone else had left. He soon retuned. Luckily for him he hadn't been fingered by the law as being responsible for the graffiti scrawled on the walls of Millbank tower.

Nearer home I did worry about the property owners on Fentiman Road, with all those Tory placards out shouting their support for Glyn Chambers, it must have a negative impact on property prices.

well hung(over)

2010-04-12T20:22:00.003+01:00

Saturday, woke up at 10 a.m after almost ten hours sleep. Quickly lost the urge to go for a run, and ended up in the Canton Arms for a pint of the black stuff and a foie gras toastie.

Had a quick nap and then Doctor Who - The beast below - not as Good as the Eleventh Hour but still mighty fine.

Then I ventured into town, an unusual event for me, the West End at the weekend is in my view worthy as a candidate for a modern day circle of hell. But my destination was the Phoenix Artist Club, one of the few occasions where I have been on the guest list. It was a friend's birthday.

It was a busy one drink wise, and varied too. Lots of gin, odd glasses of wine, some Champagne - drunk from a now empty gin glass. (handy hint champagne and lemon do not go together) and a shot of tequila rose.

Needless to say I had a huge hangover the next day. It went just in time for bed.

Poncy thought of the week

2010-04-09T23:38:00.002+01:00

Was ay the Royal Festival Hall this evening, watching the amazing Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment play Beethoven's 9 Symphony. I was sat in one of the side stalls front row. I was captivated by the whole performance. Couldn't fault it. The trombone players were my favourite to watch simply because of the way they prepared their instruments before each time they were required. I could have sat there for a repeat of the whole performance. Next time I will have to broaden my horizons and watch something other than Beethoven though.

The Poncy thought. - The second movement is far better than the second, which amazed me as the choral part of Schiller's Ode to Joy is one of my favourite pieces of music.

Election 2010

2010-04-07T20:50:00.002+01:00

And we are off. Gordon called the election yesterday and I'm a bit fed up already. One of the problems for me is that living in a fairly safe Labour seat my vote is not going to have an impact unless the citizens of North Lambeth decide that they have had enough of Kate Hoey and want a change. Its also still a fact that although this will be my fourth General election since I moved to London and although I have generally been faithful to one party I've not really been comfortable with that vote. I would much rather be in Ceredigion where my vote would be far more useful.

It will be the second election in my current abode, some seven years and the only party to have visited my inner city street has been Labour, odd when one considers the fact that the Liberal Democrats are always hungry for votes claiming that they are the only party that can beat Labour in this seat (or the ward in the borough election terms) , and where ate the Tories, or are they limited only to a few grand houses on Fentiman and Kennington Park Roads? (and a couple of houses opposite)

Things I never thought I'd say

2010-04-04T18:25:00.003+01:00

I've actually not really enjoyed my easter eggs this year.

Who?

2010-04-03T20:00:00.002+01:00

Matt Smith that's who. The new series of Doctor Who with the new Doctor blew me away this evening.

It was obvious from the start that this was a new era - the scene setting for meeting the new assistant, the problems of getting used to the regeneration, and his reaction when he sees what he actually looks like were counterbalanced by nods to the old, mention of the shadow proclamation, a flashback to not only all the other doctors but old adversaries . It was a proper squee fest.

storm damage

2010-04-02T20:47:00.002+01:00

Thursday, a half day thanks to being a civil servant and the Maundy Thursday privilege day. Always good as work is quieter. Was home by 2.30 having bought a couple of Easter eggs. I suddenly had the urge to go for a run.

So I did. Not as long as last week, but it was a run. The skies opened at the junction of Fentiman Road / South Lambeth Road. Oh joy. I t was like running under water the water going up my nose. It took a fair while before I dried out. Is this god's way of telling me he wants me to be fat.

Loneliness of the short distance runner

2010-03-28T22:56:00.002+01:00

Not so long ago in the last decade I went through a running phase. I even did two 10k races. Then it kind of stopped. I got bored - and believe me running around the same streets of SW8 / SW9 on a regular basis does not bring anything new after a couple of circuits.

Last week in a conversation with a colleague at a leaving do - the night of ten gins and the cause of a god awful hangover - I commented on his more streamlined figure, something he put down to running. As my figure looks as far removed from streamlined as you could get I have been thinking about how to get back in shape - the expense of the gym is something I have to avoid. This is for my health sake, I'm far from obese, I'm not even what you could call chunky, sturdy, or in gay parlance bearlike (or cublike even) no I look more like a thin man with a big belly. I'm also putting off buying clothes and stuff until I get to the States, so I want to be in a relatively good shape before I spend any money.

So yesterday I went for a run all just over 4 k, in a respectable time. Yes I walked some of the route, I stopped frequently, and there may be bits of my guts which I coughed up in a gutter in SE11. But I ran. I enjoyed it. I will do it again - soon, but not today, I was still recovering, not tomorrow - it's raining and i have to work latish. But run again I will I promise, and next time I won't counter balance it with foie gras.

Goosey Lucy

2010-03-28T20:21:00.004+01:00

With my America holiday coming up, I'm trying to save money / spend less. So Friday night I spent at home. I didn't even go to the market and spend money in a wannabe middle class high disposable income way. Then such good work was swept away. I had nothing worth eating in the house for lunch so headed to the Canton Arms, in the hope that they had what has already been lavished with praise by restaurant reviewers. The foie gras toastie. Not exactly cheap - you won't have enough change from a tenner to buy a pint.

The bread I believe comes from local baker Di Lieto's and was perfectly toasted golden, crisp yet moist. Inside the foie gras, yes I know that some people , most people perhaps will have issues regarding the way it's produced, but it was divine, goose liver was definitely made for stuffing into a toasted sandwich. If I didn't have to watch the pennies and my waistline, I'd have had another.

Today

2010-03-25T08:51:00.001Z

is hangover recovery day. So glad I sensibly booked the day off.

Budget day outfit.

2010-03-23T20:17:00.002Z

Tomorrow Alastair Darling will stand up for what he hopes won't be for the last time and delivers the Budget.

These days this gives me an idea of how much more (or in a less straitened times less) tax I will be paying, or as a public sector worker how long my pay will be frozen for.

But as a child it meant something totally different - new clothes. School out, I headed down to my great-aunt's and meet mother. Then it was up to the high street this was a very small Welsh town so this was a five minute stroll, and being a small town the options were limited, new school trousers from a gentleman's outfitters, the more casual clothes from Foster's, and the possible new shoes, from Dad's second cousin x times removed show shop. That was it. My outfit for the next few months had been bought. No more clothes until the summer.

All these years later I still have no idea why this day every year was set aside my this event. But when we hear the announcement about VAT, the duty on fags, and booze, I will be traveling back to a small Welsh town and thinking how horrible those new school trousers were.

Gwladgarwr tra mad. Doing my patriotic duty.

2010-03-21T17:43:00.004Z

I've blogged on and off over the last few weeks about the Wales Rugby team, and the fact that they only seem to play well in the second half of any game - some would say that they only actually play rugby at all in the second half of any game , or when I stop watching.

Wales supporting friends of Facebook have noticed the latter - the Welsh victory happened in the last fifteen minutes when I gave up hope and went shopping. , and when Wales were at their most pitiful, would message me and ask, almost demand that I stop watching.

Yesterday Wales were up against Italy, in reality this was one game Wales could not loose. Unintentionally I had made plans to go and see a film at the Lesbian and Gay Film Festival whilst the match was on. The odds iof Wles loosing reduced further.

So I went to the cinema and Wales won. Result all round.

Food review

2010-03-14T21:27:00.002Z

His comment on Brevil toasters aside, I liked Jay Rayner's review on the Canton Arms in the Observer. If it had been otherwise I would not have been happy.

Almost spring

2010-03-14T21:02:00.002Z

A lovely day in what was at least to begin with Sunny Stockwell. Another two weeks before the clock go forward, but it almost feels like Spring. After brunch of pancakes with a blueberry sauce and syrup, a read of the Observer, and a download of Duckie photos onto facebook. I knew that staying indoors was out of teh question. A nice walk to the South Bank and back was required.

The best thing about the walk - the fact that I did it without a winter coat, woolly hat and scarf. A light jacket and a jumper was all that I needed.

This and the longer days must explain my better mood.

rugby, music and food

2010-03-13T15:59:00.002Z

Lee Byrne is rather cute
Will Wales ever win again.
Crisp sandwiches are not really healthy - even if the bread is from Di Lieto's
Creme eggs are not reallly a good lunchtime pudding
Last night's Your Country Needs YOU was dire - the UK shoukd be at the bottom of the votes in this years Eurovision.
Had my hopes up but I'm still in the country for Eurovision, thought I could have escaped it by being in San Francisico,, but at least Illl be in Chicago (or New York) for a fair part of the World Cup.

Mothering Sunday

2010-03-13T14:31:00.002Z

First off I hate Mother's Day as a term, too commercialised and American.

Buying a card for this day is a necessity, one year I forgot and even eighteen years later I have bever been fully forgiven,

So buy one I did, it's been posted and has arrived. But shoukd I feel guilty for only spending 40 pence on it?

Baa, Mee.

2010-03-09T20:45:00.002Z

Being from a rural Welsh area, I am used to jokes about sheep. But despite initial reservations I am really getting into Lambing Live on BBC2. Especially tonight when they showed lambs gamboling in the fields . Reminding me of the view from my bedroom window of sheep and newborn lambs belonging to a neighbouring farm. I almost felt wistful for the noise, and the noise of bleating sheep late at night is something which really want to block out.

Dydd Gwyl Dewi

2010-03-01T22:05:00.002Z

A happy Saint David's day to you. Almost gone, and I was without a daffodil all day. I did however have a fantastic bowl of cawl this evening. Loads of leeks, carrot, and lamb, with an inauthentic and undoubtedly non- Welsh chilli,

Also very good to see Dydd Gwyl Dewi trending on twitter for much of the day.

non-disco disco napping

2010-02-27T17:24:00.002Z

I stayed in last night to watch Wales play badly against a not very good French Team. Watching may be the wrong word, I gave up aboyt 30 minutes in, then the rest of the games was seen in brief snatches, I just could cope with what at time looke lie Welsg flair and a possible Welsh victory, and at other times just plain bloody awful rugby. It was also sad to see Deiniol Jones a boy form my home town go off early on in the first half.

As a result of staying in I had an earlish night but was still reluctant to wake up this morning. I must have some bear genes with this need to hibernate.

None the less I did a bit of shopping, and even tidied my room - well parts of it, failed to find my plastic daffodil for work on St Davids day. (Monday)

I am now back in bed - no Duckie so calling it a disco nap is not really true. But at 5.30 pm, the skies above Stockwell are still blue. Spring is on it's way Soon the trees outside the house will be showing signs of life.

Yum yum

2010-02-25T21:23:00.002Z

A busy day in the office, and the end never seemed to come. Finally at 6.45 I escaped, to a very wet London. Very wet. A bus pulled up opposite te office door, I made a run for it, tried to make myself visible to the driver. But she pulled away revealing a huge queue of would be passengers, who had failed to get on what was apparent now a very full bus. I had no option but to walk. Damp feet, wet hair, but drier than they would have been without the brolly.

Walking along Albert Embankment Big Ben rang , the dull thud carrying over the river and through the rain.I felt hungry. Did I have anything in the house - yes Curly Kale. Did I fancy it - no. Suddenly the thought of some food in the newly reopened Canton Arms in Stockwell. That and a gin.

And I am so glad I did. A limited menu - whch I am told os a good sign as it ensures that the food is being cooked on site. Confit Chicken on a bed of puy lentils and a sals verde. As I told the waiter after he took my plate away I knew it would be good, but it exceeded every single expectation. The chicken just fell of the bone, the lentils had bite yet were tender. This was followed by a sweet moist treacle tart. All this was accompanied by a Gin Martini - strong and lovely and just what was needed. If I lived alone and had plenty of money, I would not need an Oven I would eat there every night.

One of my fellow diners was the Observer food critic - Jay Rayner, son of her of the female sanitary products. who also looks a bit like Howard Stern. Look forward to reading his review - it better be a good one.

countdown

2010-02-24T22:53:00.002Z

In exactly two months I will be 40, not bothered by it but did think I'd be at a different point of my life than I am.
Finally got organised re travel insurance for the US.
Really fed up with the rain now.
Roast butternut squash with onion and ginger is amazingly tasty
After a few doubts have decided I like the proposed new American Embassy. Right on the doorstep of the gay village that is Vauxhall too.
Plans to get up early every day this week come to naught - rain, tiredness and inertia to blame
Plans to leave early today come to naught - work to blame
Just when I think the cough is going it comes back again

Sods and odds

2010-02-21T20:33:00.003Z

Not watched an Olympics untilnow - and engrossed in the Ski Cross
The Canton Arms has finally reopened, been twice and , it's good to have a decent pub right on my doorstep.
I hope the fact that they haven't had the TV on is a good sign
Fantastic Duckie last night
Really hope the pound strengthens against the dollar soon
The American holiday can't come soon enough - saw an episode of Murder she wrote, yesterday set on an Amtrak train. Made me even more exited about the train journey elements.
Experimented with Trout and rhubarb - it worked.

Pancakes

2010-02-16T21:59:00.002Z

Pancakes for dinner - savoury and sweet - nom nom
The Brits have been almost as bad as 1989 , but Sam Fox was better when she had pink hair
Lady Gaga dressed like a toilet roll cover at yuor grans is still better than JLS, Cheryl Cole and Robbie Williams
Rain, all we have had today is rain. My feet have been damp for much of it
my teeth are apparently fantastic - according to the dentist even though he had to reinstall an inlay last week,

Nerve-wrecking

2010-02-13T18:52:00.003Z

It's rugby season, last week Wales lost against the Saeson, in what was a poor game at Twickenham.

This week it was Scotland. Hopes were high that after the awfulness of last week, that we would win.

Hopes were dashed within 8 minutes a Scottish try, and although a few penalties were scored Wales looked as if they were done for. Fifteen minutes of the game remained. I decided to give up, sloppy play meant that we had no chance, and that getting cough syrup might be better for me than shouting obscenities at the TV screen.

Walking back from Sainsbury's looking at Facebook and Twitter on my iphone I realized that Wales had actually won. Again in the last few minutes of the game just like in 2008 when they played England they had turned teh game around and snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

Later I had a look at iplayer and despite knowing the result, my heart was still in my mouth with each pass, tackle and sidestep. What was happening. Scotland suddenly were two men down Wales and the numerical advantage and in the final minute scored not only a try but a conversion. If this is what I was like knowing the result I dread to think what I would have been like had I been watching the thing in real time.

Next game Wales please remember that there are 80 minutes in a match, play well throughout not just the final 10.

Another opportunity for Jan Moir to be an utter cow?

2010-02-11T18:09:00.001Z

Alexander McQueen has died apparently from suicide. Jan Moir must really be itching to write something really offensive in tomorrow Dail Hate um sorry Daily Mail.

bah!

2010-02-08T23:39:00.002Z

What on earth is going on with Facebook - the newsfeed is utterly buggered. Is this a way by its founders to drive away users?

wow

2010-02-08T23:38:00.001Z

just returned home from the South Bank, the Britten Sinfonia were absolutely amazing.

Monday morsels

2010-02-08T17:38:00.002Z

A bit of snow but not enough to get excited
Downloaded the Delphic Album it rocks. Not an appropriate adjective for it's genre but I like it very much.
Doing culture in the South Bank tonight
Part of me would be happier at home in front of the fire
Got my tooth fixed - for free. Bless the NHS
Scared to eat on the right-hand side of my mouth, it feels really odd

Blingless

2010-02-03T21:36:00.002Z

Came home from work, a bit hungry. It was too early for dinner - and having had two Krispy Kremes and a Greggs iced bun during the day at work I shouldn't have even felt the merest bit peckish. But my inner gutlord was craving food. I opened a drawer took out a stick of licorice

Started chewing and then started wondering what the hard bit was.

(a bit of a digression here watching the Grammy's on ITV2 - The Black Eyed Peas are truly awful)

Back to my chewed licorice. Spat it out - not nice I know - and thereit was a piece of gold - my inlay had come out. Bugger.
Another visit to the dentist next week. Thank goodness its on the NHS so it will be a cheapish visit.

F'ING QUEER

2010-01-30T19:47:00.002Z

Returning from the Lavender last night after the demo, I and a fellow demonstrator reached Kennington Lane next to the RVT, I was about to press the button on the crossing when a car sped passed accompanied by a shout of FUCKING QUEER. My natural reaction was just to laugh, followed by a asking my companions 'How did he get that impression?' After all I just exude masculinity and heterosexuality. Although my faux fur Canadian trapper hat may have give an inkling.

Not been the focus of such abuse since Gay Shame when I walked Brixton Road in a boa, skirt and blonde wig.

my week in bite-sized morsells

2010-01-30T19:28:00.002Z

Sunday Lunch with Abby
No alcohol between Saturday night and Friday evening
American footballers dancing to Single Ladies on Glee
busy busy busy in work
Horrible tummy trouble on Tuesday night / Wednesday morning
Tired
Anti- transphobic demo
Deciding not to do Duckie in Vienna for sensible reasons
Seeing Peter Hitchens in Pret and not being put off my breakfast croissant
A smattering of snow this morning

Happy Birthday

2010-01-23T00:38:00.002Z

Bah

2010-01-12T22:08:00.003Z

I moved upto London in late October 1994, and for much of the first few months rarely left Cricklewood, as I was unemployed, and traveling was paid for by purchasing daily tickets. Then in March 1995 I got a job.

It was time to get a travel card. I had my photo taken and bought my first ticket enabling me to travel between zone 1 and 2. As photos go it was a bit embarrassing big hair and even bigger glasses - Deirdre Barlow would have been embarrassed to wear them. Yet as I got older I kept the same photo - even when the original photcard became frayed and a new one was required the picture was just transfered over. As I reach my the end of my fortieth decade things have changed.

Yesterday it was cold and still too slippy so I took the bus to work, scanned it , the new Boris imposed bus fare for a single journey was taken off and I sat down. That may have been the last time I will ever see it. Between sitting down on the 88 bus yesterday morning and getting ready to leave the house this morning I lost it. I spent a good ten minutes tearing my room apart this morning, and a further half hour this evening. But to no avail. A memory of my twenties has gone for ever. Yes I admit I hardly used it walking to work, home most days, and being a PAYG user a photocard wasn't even a necessity. I won't loose sleep over it - although I regret not registering it so that I could claim back the ten quid or so that remained on it. But that isn't the point I had fully intended to have kept it as long as possible, I had thoughts of being fat beardy, balding and grey on the outside but on my persons there was always a young fresh faced - if unfortunately coffered twenty something.

Get a grip

2010-01-07T22:42:00.002Z

Despite wearing my heavy duty police boots, I almost ended up arse over tit so many times today it would have been easier and safer if I had a pair of ice skiing blades. Lambeth Bridge and Albert Embankment were particularly horrendous a 15 minute walk took me almost half an hour.

Tomorrow I will take the bus in both directions.

Age of consent

2010-01-07T22:16:00.002Z

If I had met my first boyfriend and partner a few months earlier, out first sexual encounter would have been illegal. I was 23 he was 21. At the time under English law gay sex was only legal if both parties were over 21.

So the revelation that Iris Robinson - everyones least favourite bigot- was actually playing away with someone who at the time was under 21 just make me more angry with the sheer hypocrisy of her behaviour.

I do feel sorry for the young man in question, with what may well have been one of his first sexual encounters bneing dismissed as being the result of mental illness. Not exactly something to boost the ego.

Bad Habits

2010-01-06T20:31:00.001Z

Not long before I'm 40, yet I still bite my nails. This is not good

Iris I'll see you in hell.

2010-01-06T18:58:00.003Z

Last year Iris Robinson set off a trend of women saying stupid things about the gays, culminating with Jan Moir and then gayjacent article. The lovely god fearing Member of Parliament for Strangford described homosexuality as an abomination, but could be cured, and could recommend a nice man who would help them becoming good heterosexuals. So it was with some guilty glee that it was announced a few weeks ago that she was standing down at the next election, as she had been suffering from some mental health problems.

Today some more light was shed on her depression, she is an adulterer. Yes she has been two timing and betraying her husband. Not the sort of behavior that someone who has hitherto being portraying herself as an upstanding icon of sexual probity. Now it is a while since I read my Bible but adulterous women and filthy sodomites were condemned in equal measure, and condemned to hell. So Iris please keep a seat warm for me.

School's out

2010-01-06T18:00:00.002Z

for the third day running my nephew and niece have not gone to school due to the snow. This bring back memories of the snow falls of the early eighties. When we would often get sent home early because of the snow, and the excitement that would bring. Thirty years on as you will have guessed I still have such thoughts. Although today it was me who made the decision to wind down early. Not too early mind I don't want people thinking I'm a soft touch :)

Snow Disappointing

2010-01-06T08:03:00.001Z

What happened , it was so promising last night now just a few patches of frozen ice.