31 October - Advice & Men

Well, it’s usually women who read self-help books and talk the lingo of therapy when it comes to relationships. Vis moi for example. After conversing with male friend at w/end who seems to be taking space from a girlfriend to mull things over, but in reality seems to be moving on (sex with ex and lunches arranged with several enticingly fresh new acquaintances), I did ask him if he wanted some suggestions in order to pick the future mrs. with a little more nous than before (you know, chemistry rules but if that’s all there is...). So I sent him something I’d saved from the internet ages ago and which talks about what to look out for in terms of compatibility, you know standard stuff, people who are not afraid of change, people who have leant how to communicate effectively, people who don’t rely on you to fix their world, people with no addictions or co-dependency issues and so on. Bless him, he said ‘Send it on.’ And so I did.

But I hold scant hope that he will read it, after all my BF left it on a kitchen counter top long enough till I chucked it in the bin. He never used it as a basis for some enlightening discussion. It falls to me to ask from time to time ‘Are we alright? Anything to air? Anything not sitting quite right with us’. I always get the ‘No, all fine’. Because that’s essentially what people do … till they pack their bags and leave.

Anyway, most men have a female friend or two and some are lucky enough to have a friendly ex wife with whom they still share a house. So it falls to ex wife to suggest ex husband goes to couple’s therapy with on/off girlfriend of a couple of years (or is it three) with whom he has major issues but they don’t seem to find a way forward. Am surprised he agreed to go to sessions as he’s very manly 45 odd Welsh man who had no time for fripperies (though the girlfriend has a pet rabbit and he’s not killed it yet, merely banned it from car journeys). I will not comment on women of 30 odd years who keep a rabbit as a pet. That would take a whole Freudian chapter.

The Welsh man could be forgiven for returning to his previous opinion that therapy is a waste of time though. He’s out with the ex wife at a function the other night and declares himself quite relieved that he has broken up (in no uncertain terms he thought this time) with girlfriend at the Relate session earlier that day. With therapist as witness. Imagine his and ex wife surprise when later that evening they return from splendid evening honouring Ms Kylie Minogue at some industry bash and pet rabbit and owner are on sofa smiling and waiting for him.

He is beginning to despair that he’s not being heard. But on the other hand if he doesn’t kick rabbit and girl out of the house instantly, his actions are not following his words and so you can see how people get confused. (see: 'ability to communicate clearly' on my checklist). Then again this is the man who had brought over the Thai girlfriend of two or three years in Bangkok and was planning to share himself between 'miss me love you lon-time' and 'miss pet rabbit'. Miss pet rabbit had hit the roof upon discovering thai girl ensconced in his house but then had forgiven him and thai girl had left. And the Relate sessions had started. Gosh, am beginning to think these three are beyond help.

30 October - I abandon Rufus

This could be many things, not just getting old, but one aspect of ageing, is that your enthusiasm for new things is, if not short lived, at least contained. By which I mean we don’t fall in love with a book anymore and want to devour everything by the same author (in the case of that universally beloved book we all read at 18 or so, Catcher in the Rye, we could be waiting a long time for new instalments) or a designer and want all his shoes and handbags, or a musician and go to 15 out of 18 dates on a tour and so on. I only discovered the fantastic Rufus Wainwright 4 or 5 years ago (an ex loved him), and it took to last year or year before to finally make it to a show. A very satisfying show and I bought my own ticket which is saying something given that there has been a habit forming guestlist addiction for the past 25 years or so. But, I will never love Rufus as much as … I loved David Bowie for example. So, last Sunday, a friend had a spare ticket for a the Songs of the Plagues show at the Barbican (Rufus was to be the highlight) and I said no. Well, I was at a birthday lunch most of the day, on the other side of London. Birthday boy is my boy… I kind of wanted to end the night with him and also… be together at 10.30 to face the void that the last episode of the Sopranos would leave in our lives.

But today… when a friend texts at 8.30am that she has a spare ticket for Rufus at the Hammersmith Apollo tonight and I reply that I have half a plan to be on a pub quiz team later on and uh ho.. I don’t want to let them down (who??? I barely know them and no, a smart pub quiz is not the highlight of my week), I have to consider that is it lazy-ness? No, I haven’t even asked if they’re standing or seated tickets (for Rufus am assuming it’s seated). Is it that I don’t love Rufus enough to see him one more time, for free? With a friend I love? Is it winter? Is it the body pump class from yesterday that’s making my legs ache when I go down the stairs? Not sure… But it’s ultimately age. I have seen him, I know what to expect, I will not seek to fall in love with him (fat chance considering his gayness) or with another audience member equally obsessed and therefore destined to be my cosmic twin forever. I'm not 18. I wish. It’s a case of been there done that doctor, much in the same way I would not go and see the same play twice in the same run even if I like Patrick Marber. But, but … twenty years ago I would not have had enough, I’d have wanted more…
Is this what happens then when I ask my father to go to Venice and he says he can’t be bothered? Seen it all before/what else is new, has it sunk yet?

In fact, to add to this, last night I watched some of the Electric Proms on TV. I was pretty relieved I had not trekked to a show. The guy from Sigur Ros was even more boring now that it was just him and a guitar, The Editors were doing their highly strung sub Joy Division thing, The Kaiser Chiefs were their usual upbeat, and this guy David Arnold I quite liked as I had never come across him. When it got to Paul McCartney… I happily switched off. I just couldn’t see what they were offering as a) unique to the occasion (what? Adding a few strings here and there?) b) er…
Maybe it’s a phase. Hope it passes.

29 October - Clouds & Waves

The next big thing in Clouds is... waves…. Take it from me, I have inside knowledge…Start forming the wave appreciation society. The book of photos and suitable zen ponderings and the calendar will follow in 2008.

28 October - Bilbo & Frodo

Went to a party at an actors flat Don’t know him and he’s away in fact doing something serious on Broadway with some other famous actor. But his son decided to have a few friends over and I went along with one. Very pleasant it was too, in that non-taxing way. Arrive, drink champagne, eat nice food, chat to a couple of new people and then proceed to talk to the ones you already know. Look at your watch and it’s nearly 1am, time to go home.
I did remember thinking the house was reasonably bohemian and not updated for years. I knew this actor was famous mainly for playing a doctor beloved by kids but I never saw any of the series during the years and had never heard of this man.

Next day I look in google as you do of course and it says that he was second choice to play an (older) main character in the Ring trilogy. I thought ‘Ouch, that must have hurt, could have bought the entire house and shop for new furniture… ' A few lines on the helpful Wikipedia entry also informs me that he was slated for a part in Pirates of.. when the project was going to be directed by Spielberg but never happened at that time. That must have hurt even more… Funny how I’m only thinking of the financial downside of not getting the part, never mind the fulfilment of playing the role. But there must be enough cash to keep his son in spliffs. The air was thick with them…Very nice young man, also in the arts. Now, he's a dead ringer for Frodo...

27 October - Producers & Cheese

Reading Vogue as you do and it has little articles on women who’ve been asked to keep a diary of how /where their time goes. In amongst them I start reading about this producer woman and am registering that she’s spending very, very little time producing as opposed to going to buy or sell cheese at the farmers market or taking a bunch of hens somewhere and playing with the three kids and so on. I mean, I know a top producer and she’s got no time for all this, she’s up at dawn to read scripts, in meetings all day, in bed early to be up at dawn and so on. Eventually I alight to the line that informs me this lady is married to Alex James (of Blur, if you didn’t know). Suddenly it makes perfect sense. She’s a mother, married to a millionaire and still hanging on to a day job that probably no longer really exists except for in her indulged imagination. Ahhhh, yes. Jealous? Moi? Not really, I wouldn’t care for Wellies and cheese making.

26 October - Oysters

Anyone else with an Oyster/Barclay card debacle to relate? They sent me 3. Two by ordinary post, one by courier. Well, I had requested the second one as the first one had a spelling of my name which was from another planet. This call alone took forever. But the third card is superfluous and besides, the automatic top up of £40 which I set up has not happened. Search me. Must check if I’ve been debited at my bank but no, no money added to the Oyster, so am still using original Oyster.
Am generally an early adopter. Not early early one, but usually within first few months of something happening, I’m on it. Though I sadly missed creating my own avatar in cyberspace, life is too short for yet another registering. But am saving for a commercial trip into space for example and was all set on doing the same re cryogenics except I could not believe that if there’s a power cut they could really keep spare generators going for that long just to keep a few already dead people frozen and I’d turn to mush in any case.

But now I know that I made the right decision in not having a computer at home so I never have to deal with calling support lines or having anything go wrong in that area. So much time saved. If you ask me, I work in the environment I’m in specifically for that reason: to have super efficient broadband connections and lots of printing and copying support. This alone has been worth my salary in gold over the years.

25 October - Birthdays & Orientals

I gave the BF a b’day surprise. He liked it. I told him that I’d considered an alternative one ie. getting him a ‘Me love you long time’ Thai girl. He said ‘Oh no, I’m a bit tired for that this week’. I said ‘So am I actually’.
See, am not the only one having ‘old’ thoughts (as in 'have no energy for puttin on a show for third person in this bed). So I said, 'Good, that’s a few hundred quid saved, I’ll ask you again next year or for Christmas maybe if I can’t think of anything else'. I can think of the practical gifts but those are boring, just because a man could do with a new suitcase or office chair, doesn’t mean you get him that. And he doesn’t do jewels or it would be easier, you know, think David Beckham, I could get him all sorts of diamond studs. Anyway, Toph asked where would I get the Thai girl from?
Very smart question. Like he hasn’t thought back to the conversation he’s related to me that he had with his yoga friend S. a tiny Malaysian girl who works an accountant, is very militant about not being used for sex by western boyfriends who are after the oriental experience, but who lives by some station at the end of the Piccadilly line (I think) and drinks in a pub full of Thai working girls. I was going to ask her for some introductions of course….. But good of Toph to pretend he has not for a second imagined going up there for a drink himself. So that S. could spill her relationships beans on to him as she’s fond to do. For someone who doesn’t want to be pretty oriental girl, it’s funny she hangs with tall Russians and you know… no Malaysian men. There must be some in London for whom the Oriental, body of a twelve year old, girlfriend, is not that exotic an experience…

24 October - Nobu & Willesden

This must be another one of those signs of getting old that I’m fond of pointing out to you. I was really looking forward to dinner at Nobu as for some reason had not gone there before and the reviews have always been excellent. I can’t fault the food at all, it was worth every penny and the staff were very knowledgeable and helpful, they did sound as if they’d tried every dish and had their faves. And when the light bulb died above our table, they moved us to another at the oppsite corner of the room and so we had a mini adventure, changing scenery, waiters and all that. However the room is not far off from an upmarket cafeteria, the noise pretty loud (blame it on low ceilings) and the clientele a little short on glamour given that they all looked like bankers and blondes to me. Seeing Gwynnie or Madge would not have significantly altered by evening either. So… being that the company was the delectable BF who I had already sampled aplenty the night before and that we had dinner out fatigue from previous days' outings, we were cautious with the alcohol…so we were done in 2 hours.

The next day I was exchanging emails about it and saying that I was just as happy with the trusted Asakusa in mornington crescent despite the fact that I hate the swiss hut/pub décor and the atrocious carpet. The formidable M. replied saying I should try this place on Willesden Green which is the best Japanese in North London according to her (we wouldn’t know of any Japanese south of the river of course, we only visit once a year if there’s a gig at the Academy). So, you’re asking, where’s the sign of ageing in that. It is within my thinking that yes, I’d like to try said Jap in Willesden Green (I can’t pretend I don’t know where it is being that various friends have crept up north of the Harrow Road over the years, but I certainly don’t visit willingly).

This thought was sustained by the other thought, if it’s just me and the BF and all we care ultimately is about the food and I can still wear a pretty frock in that manor should I want to (after all, nobody as much as turned a head when I wore it at Nobu), then it’s ok. We can go to Willesden Green. This is basically on the slippery road to having drinks in the local bar, eating locally and basically finding the West End too much of a stretch. This is what OLD people do. I refuse. So on principle, unless I’m discussing selling my movie script to Robert Redford and he specifically requests we eat at Sushi Say, I shall never go. That won’t keep any lines from adding themselves to my face but my soul will stay at age … er… 42 and a half.

Ps a further email exhange revealed that one of my oldest Japanese friends is a neighbour of one of the Nobu chefs (I think they have about 20 on the go on any one night) and so I could 'think' even older and just go round hers for dinner and eating what he's prepared and passed on to her.

22 October - Art on the Underground

A. had a poster of her art featured on the underground Art Below Series. We celebrated in front of one on the West platform of the circle line at Paddington. We had wine and nibbles and nobody paid any attention from 6 to 8pm. You've got to love Londoners and the foreigners who live here. Nobody gives a shit about anyone else. Makes a change from provincial mores.
We took the mini party on to the concourse and very jolly it was too. Must convene in public places more often with own drinks.

21 October - Shoreditch House & Schnabel

Like all private clubs when they're in the early days of their popularity, they can be a bit arsy. I mean, not so full on a sunday and still demanding all sorts of compliances to rules etc (if you invite a party of friends, whey won't have access to the rooftop pool, they need to eat from a set menu, blah blah blah), but in the end it all works out ok thanks to the ebullient X. who practically lives there. It's sunny, we have a great day. I play cupid (I hope) to the two least camp and most macho gay men I know. Will I attend my first civil ceremony next year I wonder?
Then we go see The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and as I wait in the lobby some woman arrivees and tells the guestlist people that Damien Hirst is not coming. Ahhh... Must be at home counting Swarovsky crystals (you don't really believe they're real diamonds on that skull do you?). We like the film, we like the Q&A, we'd like to go on to the party but we're all very tired and go home reflecting on what would we do if we had a stroke tomorrow. We're already older than the protagonist of the movie. And one of us is 50 and she's dating a 28 year old who seems to be doting on her. Way to go. I'd say if the stroke comes tomorrow, she has good memories already.

17 October - Underworld & Underpants

I love them. A timely return to form. My two buddies love them too. Toph leaves after half an hour citing headache, repulsion induced by terrace lager louts intent on re-living their ravey days. I disagree. And everyone knows that dance music sets need a little time (an hour or so) to build up into their fizzy highights. But what can I say, I hear echoes of Kraftwerk in the best stuff, he hears Jean Michel Jarre. I go on a soundscape journey, he says they're pants. But he waits patiently outside so I will forgive this laps in unity. I hate Sigur Ros so we're square.

15 October- Drawing Restraint

Matthew Barney is my new hero/inspiration. From next month I'll be paying him homage with a series called Writing Restraing, whereupon I will attemp to write, this blog amongst other stuff, whilst being restrained from doing so. Can't wait to start. My first writing restraint will be being wrapped up like a sausage in a duvet. The second one will be being tied to my bed... for days. And so on.

I do like a man whose obsessions are constant and true to himself. All that lard. What a horrid substance. I have yet to see the 3 hour long movie (or is it 2 or is it 4) but I will.
On the way to the Serpentine, or just outside, Jarvis is playing with (his) kids on the grass, and Eno strides past looking all professorial. None notice me, the soon to be famous writing restrainee. Am starting now, can't write nomo
tbc

12 October - Of Mice & Women

One Sunday am uncharacteristically in a pub full of people watching a rugby qualifier. Two of my g/friends are early 30's, the other one is my age. One, G. leans over to say she likes that bloke over there in the green flak jacket who's talking to a woman and are they together? I reply after a while that the body language seems to indicate they're just mates and good choice, he's the most attractive here. A while later I leave to go join the fag end of a Sunday lunch and meet some bloke I'd heard much about from a girlfriend over the year she had a little thing for him. Indeed, I liked him a lot. Made perfect sense. But back to my story. Imagine my suprise the following day when same age g/friend says that she ended up introducing green flak jacket boy to L . and yes, he was single and yes they liked each other and things may be happening.
Fast forward a week or two when same age g/friend relates that it's all already over. Why? Because he wouldn't kill a mouse. A first date had gone ok, not brilliant, as he'd not taken enough charge of where to go/what to do. He's 'only' 27, bless. But by second date they were in L.'s flat, kissing etc on the sofa and in various stages of undress when L. spotted a mouse next to her face. She got boy off her and asked him to kill the mouse. He said he would try and catch him and throw it out of the window. No, you must kill him says L.
A bit of fluffing about later and she gets into a huff and asks boy to leave. Then she sends him a text to say it wouldn't work etc and bye bye.
My same age friend is laughing her head off at this tale. I'm flabbergasted that this poor boy may be now traumatised by the way in which he was dumped because he didn't deal with a mouse in the way the woman expected.
Then I think of myself age 30odd and the amount of people (men) I discarded for similar spurious reasons. You know, it would never work because you like beans on toast and I want to climb the Himalayas. I feel like picking up the phone to call L. and tell her off or at leasat point out she could have killed the mouse herself, but instead I text G. that boy is free and so long as she can deal with this character flaw of his...

10 October - Cuts & Slices

Why would there be an ad for a safe slicing device/object in one of the papers I read? And why does that catch my eye for the first time now? I presume these kind of ads have been there forever and a day. I understand that it’s not for people like me who don’t like fine slicing of vegetables, mine are always cubed or cut in thick slices, oh yes even the onions and the garlic, and the parsley gets used in bunches almost. Because essentially I don’t trust that I wouldn’t cut a finger (plus I prefer crunchy to smooth... peanut butter for example and jams with pieces of fruit left in). And should I watch cookery programmes (I do not), I’d have to look away when the chef does the obligatory faster than anything chopping of herbs by holding them down with four fingers close to the edge of the knife. I don’t even like using those half moon shaped implements, see I don’t even knot what they’re called.

But I realise now that the ‘machine’ advertised is for old people who start to get not very mobile or careful when their joints start to stiffen. This can be added to the growing list of things that figure in my head only as a result of the passage of time. I’d hope I’m years away from needing one of these or indeed anything else that makes life easier for an old person, you know, bags with wheels, things that help you prize open jars and so on but the scales are tipping forward. I will now be more likely to notice those things than, say, er, there you go, I have no idea what catches the eye of a twenty year old. This is doomed. I have the same kind of thoughts a Clive James has or a Germaine Greer (think of that association, I just made it and they clearly are both from the same country and knew/know each other, so my brain paths are still in place), and those people were adults when I was born. It’s just… weird.

9 October - Snakes, Sex & Boots

I send an email to a g/friend I haven’t heard from in a while. In her reply she says (amongst other things) ‘I dreamt about a snake - that became 2 snakes and Dom (someone she’s not seen in years) was in it... he was coming for a shag and I'd put in a cap (!) and then he went away (sans shag) saying ‘You know I'm married now....’ Then the snakes appeared and then became 2...What does it all mean?

I reply ‘It means you want s ex v. badly (but no babies) and in both ways.. ha ha ha, two snakes... '

So it’s my turn to tell her about my dream. I dreamt about boots. Was in a shop with older woman poss. my mother. It's a fantastic shop and sale is on and she said boots were all £12. Unreal! Of course not all in the right sizes, but managed to squeeze in two fab pairs size, 4 which these days is too small for me, but I'll suffer gladly again.
At the till was told it was not £12 but £170. By this time fallen in love so bought one pair, put the other one down. I can see it in my head, flat ones for a change in softest black and green leather, which is odd as I’d never mix colours...Then I go home on the bicycle and I realise they gave me someone else's bag. In it are 4 pairs of boots, all in my size, wonder why didn't see those in shop. Don't know what to do as other person has my preferred boots but now I have 4 instead of 1! I do know that even if I don't phone the shop to say ‘Er.. I've got her boots’, she may have phoned to say about the swap so I will have to give them back but for now am tempted to keep the boot bonanza. What does it mean???

My girlfriend replies : ':)))) you want it all ways, in boots, out of boots, high heeled, flats – every which way! ha ha No, I dont know, but its very interesting - if you find a dream analysis website let me know.'

She continues…’Talking of boots - I bought a pair of Stella Mc's - outrageously high, outrageously expensive. Agonised for hours in the shop in Milan and know will only be able to wear them 4 or 5 times - but in the end vanity won. Hurrah.’

And goes on to tell me about various podiatry problems she’s discovered and may need some surgery on nodules. So you see, my dream was prescient that my good friend needed sole advice.

7 October - How to lose friends....

How to lose friends part 25… So, I am talking to the BF, just before I go into a yoga class and approx 2 hours before am meant to turn up for dinner at a girlfriend’s house. We discuss who to invite at a lunch he wants to give soon and who fits with whom. He likes my girlfriend, she’s v. sexy, and he has the odd single male friend we could set her up with except that his friends are usually in possession of a Masters or a PhD or two and like their arts and politics and my girlfriend, whilst being smart and intelligent and talented in her work, would have to duck out of discussing the finer points of Philip Roth or care one jolt for Sally Potter directing her first opera. Enough said. So the girlfriend is in on my mind when I write a ps. text to the BF to further dissuade him from thinking about his plans - and to be honest to further re-inforce into his mind that an eventual liaison with my girlfriend would not last long when he chooses to spend hours reading the Sunday papers or turning Bach on in the car. Though am sure that doesn’t stop him fantasising. When a man says more than three times about your g/friend ‘She looks good!’ you know what he’s thinking.

A few seconds later I get a text from my g/friend asking ‘Who was that for????’ It takes approx half a second to realise I have sent her the text about her. And it’s not flattering. Here it is: ‘So, L splept with the electrician and but now is thinking about this dustman she knows. Clearly working her way through trade association… extreme reaction to the fine arts and quasi guru ex husband…’

This is where I go white and quickly reply ‘It was for Toph who keeps wanting you to meet his ugly professor friend N. and as you told me you were into a chef you met in a pub recently, and it wasn’t long ago you went out with a builder and we still talk about the love of your life, the carpet fitter… I thought it best you know…‘
She replies ‘Ah….’
I reply ‘Please forgive me, Toph has already told me off plenty’. This is not true… yet, but she likes Toph so she’s pleased he’s sprung to her side.
Ok, but she’s not happy. I can tell. I walk into yoga and can’t concentrate, this is a serious f uck up on my part being that it wasn’t long ago she started speaking to me again after a year in purdah. And I made the first move. Yoga teacher finds it v. funny! And wants to use it for a script she’s writing. She’s welcome but here it is on my blog first. Later g/frend texts I should bring some humus. I say yes and turn up with plenty more items on top and a bottle of wine. She opens the door and sees the goods and says ‘You’re grovelling!’. I say yes, and realise am in the clear or at least that she’s going to enjoy me apologising. We talk about it some more and you know, I wasn’t spreading untruths, she has to admit she values brawn, not over brains, the skilled workers do have them and for all we know they all write profound plays, but she just doesn’t need the pedantry of Oxbridge men.
And we relax. But turns out she’s fallen out over the w/end with her best friend and I think I have S. to thank for having my faux pas pardoned. You can’t really shed too many g/friends in one week.

Anyway, it’s a good week for her, truly she can’t decide between electrician and bin man. One’s in London, one necessitates taking a train to see him but it’s her mum who put him forward in the first place and I’m inclined to think mum knows best. They have their special qualities (think both have children with ex partners so life won’t be simple) and both have the cheekiness that doesn’t come easy to boys who have spent too many hours in libraries….but crucially for her, their spirit is a good one. She can tell. I eat with extra pleasure as I feel the pressure lifting. At least it was not one of those texts that husbands intend for mistress and send to wife etc etc.

5 October - Any date, any colour

That time of the year again when long haul travel looms. Have decided that the only true reason why I’d like to be rich is that I would never, ever have to try and travel when fares are not hugely inflated because it’s over premium periods ie Xmas /new year. That would be my luxury. I want to go on 23 December. Yes madam, that will be twice as much as it is if your depature is at end of January. And I’d reply, don’t care. Just book it.

Many years ago the only true reason to be rich would have been to be able to say ‘and I’ll have the same in every colour’. I still remember working with a chap who gave me a cherished cashmere v neck in pale yellow (decided he could do w/o this shade) as he’d gone and got the exact same in many other hues. But pale yellow with blond hair... no. I said as much. He gave it to me - was witchy red back then. And me being me, I still have/wear the darn sweater.

Clearly it would be equally exhilarating to buy the house one likes w/o worrying about the price but that’s still a sort of static thing. I definitely think travel whenever I want (which implies not having to clear the request with any employer for example) would be the best. And also the possibility of varying said trip when one is on it. Oh, I think I’ll stay here in Dalat an extra week, or I fancy carrying on into Taiwan, why not, who cares that it’s another £xxx.

4 October - Obits and Obelisks

It’s a good thing that despite not being shy of expressing an opinion, I also don’t desperately wish to express one, especially if in the presence of people I don’t yet know well and who appear to be happy not to say anything when confronted with more dominant personalities. You could say that I’ll debate anything for a while and then sort of let it go, unless I had to cast a vote etc. So it is that recently I went to a book club with assorted women I don’t know (only know the host). I did try to involve another friend but she reminded me of a rule I’d made and she’s adopted which is ‘Don’t need to spend time hanging with any more females’. Fair enough but I know I don’t read outside of my reading patterns and fancied being confronted by different suggestions.

However, I was definitely quick enough to let them know hat I wasn’t interested if all it would be was an excuse to drink more wine and gossip, and with that in mind we’d agreed that chit chat is limited to the time spent waiting for various arrivals, then we talk about the book and then we carry on with personal talk. By which point I’d have left or about to leave.

First month went fine, loved the book choice. Second month also fine but once again had noticed one woman saying zero and thinking to myself maybe she needs the social interaction and fair enough. I also had some opinions that I’m glad I didn’t express ...apart from the sweeping generalisation a propos some characters ‘Russians are melancholic by nature or manic. It’s all that heavy vodka drinking you see’. So said me who’s never been to Russia but has a penchant for Russian writers and was astounded that all present had not read Anna Karenina for example, but that’s the beauty of such a little gathering, new discoveries. This in light of the fact that following day book club host told me that after two of us left shortly after book discussion ended with the 'buy it, borrow it, bin it' vote, the session carried on and turned into a cry-fest fuelled by the wine.

One woman has a manic depressive sister who’s tried to commit suicide and the silent woman was upset because the following day she was going to view (for the first and probably last time) footage of the death of her husband who she’d been with for 30 years and who was blown up in Afghanistan (journalist or cameraman). Which is truly the worst thing I’ve heard in months. So it is with relief that I realise I also did not say the following given that the book discussed is called Death and the Penguin and centres on an obituary writer. I was going to suggest we all try and write each other’s obit as we’d be very surprised about what even people who know us reasonably well would retain in the 500 words required to summarise a non famous/non Nobel prize winner ordinary person. I was also going to say that we should also get someone who doesn’t know us at all to write an obit and see which one comes out best. I don’t think the widow amongst us would have coped very well with my line of thinking. However by that point it had already fallen on me to chose the book for the next meeting and er… it’s 'Music for Torching' by AM Homes and so I’ll have to re-read it for possible, potentially hurtful angles. But that still leaves 3 other women who didn’t break down after the last book club and god knows what nasty things life has done to them. I need to do some research before next time.

2 October - Control

For the review, I'd say I couldn't agree more with the one appeared in the Telegraph. For my feelings during the movie, they are all to do with who I was then. I did see Joy Division - at the Rainbow, shortly before he died (the BF can lay claim to having seen earlier incarnation Warsaw, and to him the music/film speaks of how badly you want to run away from where you're born, and how music saves you and oh, how listening to David Bowie and Iggy Pop fucks you up - er, Warsaw is of course the title of a Bowie song from Berlin days). I do remember even then, not knowing as much as we do know, as Deborah Curtis' s book had not been published, that I just knew that upon meeting a european chick like Annik H., a boy from Macclesfield, aged 23 and with a wife and kid, had no option but to go for her, with all that it entailed.

The movie brought back a dim memory of sitting in a car with Alan Erasmus (not RIP it seems, like Wilson and Curtis and Hannett) and fending off his advances whilst thinking 'damn, it' s not you I want, I want Peter Saville'. Now, if I was by nature an opportunist, I'd have taken the Erasmus gig so to speak which would have led to the Saville one. But I've always been dim to that line of action. Saville hasn't aged particularly well, even before his TV appearances on Wilson's death) but... he's still an object of desire from a time when those meant something.

1 October - Large bags

Not that interesting but... sack the stylist. If you’re as short as Kylie is, you cannot sport a huge handbag the size of a suit-carrier. It’s just plain wrong. I can’t think of much today but I know that.