29 February - Ps

Not this year...

29 February - Ski Shoes

Have not written about shoes for a while because I’ve been reasonably dull and I seem to travel in a pair of cute but boring Clarks ankle boots (yes, the horror, but from A to B on the tube and buses they’re soft and bouncy) and have been to precious few parties requiring better cobbled feet.

But there is always a shoe drama lurking. This week it’s being unable to find my après ski boots which were bought in a sale 2 years ago at very competitive price and never used as when I skied last year I borrowed my mother’s and returned them to her. They were a funny colour anyway, some kind of green that doesn't match anything and I’d rather have mine, black goes with everything stylee. But now… mine are nowhere to be found. I have turned various places upside down as am a gypsy with three residencies, four if you count the boot of the car, and yes, am too mean to purchase them again. Oh what to do? Any offers, am a size 5. Kings Cross tomorrow morning at 10.45 before I get me to Geneva. Thanks

24 February - Five under Tens

That was fun. Went to visit the god-daughters.. There are 3, all under the age of ten. I had told the parents I’d be up for babysitting on the Saturday night. They were also playing hosts to two of the girls cousins. Also under age ten, I had met the lovely boys before.

In the end my friends did take me up on the offer and went to a family celebration. I thought ‘Heh? Thanks for the huge vote of confidence’ and put any apprehension at the back of my mind. The 4 older ones were watching a DVD in their bedroom after which they were meant to sleep. The little one had sucked on her milk bottle and was happily snoring on the sofa next to me. I settled down to an evening of Sky TV and in between 6 trips up stairs to try and get the kids to finally stop whatever they were doing and sleep, I watched Hot Fuzz, Catch a Fire, and part of something else that I forget. And thank god for that gizmo thing that allows you to rewind a movie as I’d have missed out large chunks with the trips upstairs. In the end what did it was having had the presence of mind not to open the gifts I’d brought when I arrived but having ‘saved’ them. This meant I could use the blackmail card of ‘If you don’t cut it out and sleep NOW, I’ll take the suitcase with the gifts back to London'. That did it, but I felt a pang of guilt about the cousins who I had not catered for. The following day H. was distinctly underwhelmed by the Patty Shelabarger outfits I’d brought her as she’d been expecting TOYS or a fun activity. Ah well, I don’t do toys, and we did the zoo last time and I’m against just going to shopping centres and mum has already done a morning of cutting out coloured paper to make frames to be decorated with assorted ribbons, glitter and other decorations…

All in all I discovered that Nintendos (and the like) are like portable TVs to kids. L. had just got her first one as a reward for doing the 12 x 12 table with not a single mistake, and they were all fighting over it but the boys had a different one and basically, they very much left you alone to concentrate on those. Even the 2 year old had a go as she can switch it on and off and draw squiggles on the pad! Incredible but true or perhaps only incredible to me as I didn’t know that toddlers were so IT advanced. Having said that she can also use a word like ‘enthusiastic’ all of her own accord. Ok, she’s 2 years and 1 month to be precise but surely that’s out of the ordinary? Clearly I had no responsibilities vis a vis homework and food was sorted so I was a kid-lite experience. I’d have an ok time with the cooking/cleaning/sorting out clothes, but less so if I had to invent activities and follow homework. Having dropped by on painful homework sessions a friend of mine had to endure with her totally useless daughter for about 9 years of her life, I just thought… ‘Why struggle, not everyone has to go on to study, let her be a hairdresser… I know you’re a family of millionaires but there’s always an underachieving one no?’

My journey back alone with a book was totally enjoyable and the best. I still think no kids works best for me.

22 February - Le ski c'est chic

Only a few days to go. This time it's red runs or I'm not coming back till I whizz down them with supreme confidence.

Can't wait. Twelve of us. Top luxury chalet in Meribel. We mostly all know each other and are tried and tested in communal environment. Own bathrooms so truly, nothing can go wrong. Unless the chalet girls are eastern european wannabee rich girls. Then again, none of our guys can qualify as a rich guy though one works at Goldman Sachs and all own own property, which must make them a catch. Mmmhh. Maybe it's chalet boys. Should have requested an even spread.

20 February - Brits & Blondelles

Some people are at the Brits tonight, but we’re watching the Blondelles at Neighbourhood. Last time I saw the guitarist and co-singer, he was in his mother’s tum… at her wedding. Ahh sweet. Am not a friend of hers, but had a connection to the husband. Lovely day it was, in France. Actually had a connection to her also via her first lover (much much later) and in actual fact when I look at the kid, I can also see a resemblance to my lover and not just the father. Well, both are not very tall, have dark hair and a big nose. But anyway, not casting aspersions.
And here they are, this lovely bunch confident and very accomplished and professional musicians and the room is full of 19/20 year olds who could all be Pixie and Fifi and Agyness and you know the type, it's not 2008 if you don't wear bold asymmetric prints and plastic bangles. Wonder what it’s like to have your famous mum and dad in the audience sometimes? (not tonight) or if you’ve banished them as they perhaps embarrass you?
Anyway, they're my little tip for the top for this week and I'm glad am home by 11.30

Later on am told about an after Brit party that goes a different way for a friend of a friend, M. and twice a night G. in her hotel room. Am trying to remember if that was the case with me and G.? Think so… because it was always a bit of a session and both very eager to impress. But he has a g/friend, they bought a house together last year, they seem happy. What was he thinking? Maybe it's a tradition for him? Did any of his artists win anything? I have no idea. Just goes to prove you can never trust anyone to be... faithful.

18 February - tbc

The bizarre evening of S's announcement...
the pregnant woman, the vicar, the karaoke chap, the financial PR, the TV girl, and er... many others. TBC

And G's send off and the pensioner with a friend who used to work for Liz Taylor...
TBC

16 February - Pool Clubs & Drag Queens

If you haven't yet been down the Haymarket hotel for their Friday night pool bar drag queen show, you're missing out. Quick it's about to end its run and the drag queens will return to NY (I think). Ok so it's totally and utterly gay (or gay plus covens of women and the two don't mix), but it's a change from trying Friday night anywhere else. Am there with my new favourite gay man, the artist and art historian M. and with C. and her gay roommate M (he of white velvet flooring in the bedrooms, yes velvet, not carpet. He works for BA in flight, that figurees). She's in love with him and I think of how many friends over the years have been in love with their gay mates who never don’t reciprocate beyond showing some brotherly love. It's fine but out of the two only one side has fun ie the gay man who still has an active sex life through all this and not my female friends who just then expect to find straight guys with the same qualities... They don't exist...

At this night I see standing next to me the most beautiful 25 year old I've seen in ages. he's a taller, and blond Jake Gyllenhall, the eyes are blue but he's the same. He's also american and his 3 other friends look like preppy boys. I stare at him for so long (and I have to turn my head as he's standing behind me) that I wonder if he knows how troubled he's made me. I can't tell if.... until a little later he's kissing his much less interesting and shorter mate on the lips and ... he means it. I'm gutted.

15 Feb - 2 Men x Valentine

It's not as interesting as the title sounds. Yes I did spend Valentine evening with two men. We had a top dinner at home till 11.45 and listened to tales of unhappy love and new beginnings which our friend S. was unfolding for us (we hadn't seen him for a while). Then he left, and my very own jumping jack flash gave one of his best performances ever. I think that tiramisu' is an excellent pudding if you make it my way ie. the coffee in it will keep you awake and the alcohol in it will keep you sweet and the cream and eggs will give you energy. I rule. I dread to think what S. had to do instead... maybe read a book. Life's not fair.

13 Feb - a few I forgot - Just as place markers for me

The failed attempt to see C and the old (very boring) punk rockers Carbon Silicon.

What is it with the bookclub? – someone always cries at the end of it. Maybe only a glass of wine each should be allowed rather than people drinking the whole bottle they brought along?

S.'s story about her mum and auntie in the 70’s chewing cinnamon sticks which acted as speed and so they wouldn’t eat and keep weight down. Then they went to the Caribbean in all their finest 70’s outfits and platform shoes, showing off like mad whilst visiting for a long holiday and there was no cinnamon to chew there and they started busting out of their clothes. Of course you have to be there when she tells you the story as she acts out mum and auntie and makes herself look like a one woman cast of 'Hair'.

Craig David changes socks and underwear 2 to 3 times a day (well, if he’s performing I presume the lights make him sweat and for promo interviews one has to feel good whilst answering the same same questions posed) and ok after the gym etc., but on an average day? Talk about OCD. And the story about the white shoes only worn once and the wardrobe arranged bloke-way black, grey, jackets, trousers etc. is true. So says a friend who worked with him and eventually walked out. Her only walk out in a long distinguished career.
'Does he have a g/friend?' we chorus at the dinner where these tidbits are imparted.
'Yes' comes the unbelievable reply. But we change subject and never find out who this suffering lady is...
Amazing, with all that OCD!
Yoko and the wedding ring and engagement that had to be cut off after 18 years


If you go out w/out make up (ok just lip gloss and thank god I reapplied after eating my farmers market quiche) you will run into people who look like they've just steppped out of the shower and are all buzzy and made up and are your BF's ex GF (granted from a few years ago but still). Luckily for you now feeling like a drab queen, you'll notice that she has a myriad, and I mean a myriad lines around her maked up eyes and so you feel much better. But never ever forget the basic rules. Mascara and lipstick are fundamental.


We go see 'No country for Old Men' with a couple of friends. I need translation/subtitles (I mean, I appreciate the lovely Kelly Macdonald (is she still going out with Dougie from Travis?) doing a fantastic Texan accent but… it’s very hard work) and Toph says he missed some of the Tommy Lee/Sheriff speech at the end. But… that’s what the web is for. I found the script and printed it. Joy. I didn’t like Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’ at all but maybe I’ll go back and read his earlier trilogy. Anyway, movie was with E. and J. E. is the one who has the restraining order against the ex hubby who still harrasses her 4 to 5 years after it all ended. And it's scary harrassment which is hard to fathom in a man who's a well established businessman. He's clearly someone who'd have benefitted from major therapy and learning to let go and move on. Anyway, talking with E. about Vietnam and she’s just been to lecture at the Frontline club by a famous, now very old photographer who documented if for years until recent times. Toph has the first edition of that first, seminal book. Apparently it’s worth a lot. Am suggesting I get it gifted for Valentine so I can go spend the dosh when I ebay it... They look on horrified. I know, sometimes I'm a major philistine.


I just read this: 'Income has no practical value with no time'. I knew it! I've got my priorities right!
I also read this in the same paragraph almost: '(one has to learn to) Cultivate selective ignorance as otherwise it's all input and no output.' Ok, I fare much worse in this department. I'm still all input... sigh. It's kind of useful for always having something to comment about and I overuse the 'I read somewhere the other day that...' but in what way this knowledge benefits me is sort of not clear. I can't even use the info at the pub quiz because their questions always refer to something 'old'. When I once read that Leonard Cohen spent 3 or 4 years in a monastery (presumably with no access to internet and no deliveries of the LA Times), I was sooooo jealous. That's the only way to do no input.

12 February - Bread & Parrots

J. is 38 and has a fantastic party full of gays we love. Great flat, great people. It’s not cold so we’re all in and out of the terrace. I arrive, see chorizo and salami and cheese a plenty but no bread, but there seem to be some lovely big crumbs in a round dish on a stand and I think that’s possibly a design featurette of this gay apartment so have just scooped up some of said crumbs when a man shrieks and stops my hand from reaching my mouth. Seems this is where the owners’ parrots perch and that’s their food mixed up with their faeces. Ah thanks. The room was not well lit I have to add, am not that blind.

We go see the parrots in another room and it’s clear owners are besotted. The birds are beautiful but I don’t see them as pets unfortunately. A little beaky 'kiss' somehow does not do it for me. Still, at least they’re not snakes. Yes, I know they’re beautiful too but,you know, I just don’t believe they love you ok?

The BF is happy because he can wear a mauve roll neck that the previous g/friend had banished. This is the perfect occasion though a good percentage of the gays here are muscle marys and so no other mauve in sight. I wonder if anyone will hit on him but I ask M. if he can spot the gays from the straights and of course he's a 100 % accurate. There's a few hetero so I put them the way of C. and crazy opera singer A. but have no idea if anything came to any conclusion. I talk a lot to S. who's been dumped unexpectedly by his lover of 3 years. V. sweet, though you know, the lover did say 'Did you not notice we haven't had sex for months?' It always surprises me that people seem to think nothing is wrong if there's no sex in the relationship. Red flag no. 1 in my book.

The sangria is going down well and we’re all chatting away. This tall black woman manages to persuade me that she was, a long time ago, a g/friend of my gay friend. I kind of think no way… he’s got to be one of those who never tried ‘us’ but she’s very convincing. And after all he’s shortly to become a father through artificial insemination of a good friend who lives in Holland. His poor, devout catholic mother. She’s had a lot to come to terms with. Only later does J. fall about laughing and tells me the ‘old girlfriend’ is a writer and so likes to make up stories. He’s also invited a bunch of people he’s recently met at his club. I can’t help but think that only a Mediterranean gay such as him would be so hospitable to widen his circle without being too fussy. He truly believes the more the merrier. He also is as non possessive about books and DVDs as I am so I leave with an armful. I tell him I’ll email him a list so he can keep track of what I took and he says he’s not bothered about that.

We go home but his evening will finish at another party and eventually in the arms of a Brazilian boy called Fernando. Much younger than him but … sometimes you’ve to do these things.

10 February - Memory & Rings

I have found, perhaps, an advantageous aspect of losing one’s memory. Last week I got a voicemail from the Swarovski shop telling me I could pick up an item I had left for repair. First of all I thought they had the wrong person and then I had a faint memory of having indeed left something for repair, but try as I may, I couldn’t remember what it is I took there. I certainly have no idea as to where I may have put the receipt. Ok, let’s switch to the present tense as it’s easier. When I go and pick up the assistant asks what is it. Naturally. She’s taken aback, when I say no, and can you not find it via the my name, after all you called me. She answers we have trays with earrings, necklaces, rings etc so it takes time to look through all. I say uh ho, no, don’t know, sorry you have to look through it all. But I add that I probably brought it here 6 months ago. As if that helps. She looks at me like I’m crazy, like we’d never take this long to return an item, madam, but she’s a good sales assistant and I’m the client and she has to indulge me.

When she eventually emerges from the store room, I’m delighted to be reunited with this lovely ring I took in because it had lost a stone and that wasn’t on! Swarovski stuff is not that cheaply made. Or, I should imagine, back in the days before marketing and re-launch. Now I doubt it’s made in Austria… I had totally forgotten this ring probably because it was not chosen by me in the first place, but was a hand me down from my sister.

My memory however worked well on the dates. The chit says I brought it in on 18 May last year. Fancy that, 8 months to the day almost. I was out by 2 months only. So not all the synapses are that disintegrated. It’s nice to have the surprise, it's like it's a new ring, what a joy. Wonder if I’ll forget people and then be happy to meet them for the first time again instead of being bored by the same same conversatons we have. Next time however, I shall demand a substitute item from the shop, like the insurance people do when they give you courtesy cars when yours is at the menders.
It would be interesting to make some study too about memory loss as I could be compared with some friends who’ve done drugs constantly over the years and drunk absolute caseloads of wine more than me. Containers full in fact. Wonder if their brain is failing them as much as mine is me.

9 February - Sick & Sex

Ok so I currently have a sick BF, bad flu for over a week and sort of accompanying depression because of lack of activity, meetings, work etc. and can’t go to his beloved fitness routine due to er.. sickness (only consolation is that the broody Russian hasn’t gone either as he’s been more sick than BF with it and even called an ambulance as he thought he was going to die. Broody/silent type S. does not have a loving GF who’s on hand to nurse and nurture. I’d have mopped his brow…

As for the BF, apart from the bad first 2/3 days of said flu and a fainting fit that left him with badly bleeding gash on eyelid and was either all my fault as I was on the phone doing one of those ‘You don’t fool me mister, I know what you’re up to and stop it immediately or else…’ speeches, or it was a digesting short circuit due to the bad fish at the Greek owned restaurant in Stoke Newington, you know who you're and that wasn't fresh despite the fab stories you told us about when Frank Sinatra ate at the club in East London you worked in when first off the boat in the fifties, he’s mainly not been breathing very well because of blocked nose, had headaches because of pressure and generally been a bit weak.

But, and I’d like some feedback on this ie. is it normal? he’s been mad for sex every day. How’s this possible? Is it because if you don't actually get out of the house you have all this energy that has to go somewhere? Or you're desperately bored? Am certainly not complaining but this morning I pointed out to his messy office which I have been going on at him to clear out/tidy for .. months. He says ‘I’m ill, I’ll do it when am better’. So I replied, ‘If you’re well enough for reasonably complicated sex, then you’re good enough for sorting this out. Today.’ I added that I’m going on strike till it’s sorted. He ruefully said that will never happen as I love it more than he does. Sad but true. That kind of blackmail can never apply. I really don’t know what I should subtract from his life though to make him sort the mess out. He doesn’t see it all…

Oh, I know, I think I’ll hide his latest Douglas Coupland novel he’s reading even as he’s standing up and walking on his way from room to room. That should do it. It is possible of course that when a man is down/low, he may realise how good to him, useful, indispensable etc his GF is and as he’s in no shape to fight off marauding intruders, Visigoths and other fully fit men, he may try extra hard to mark his territory.. Ah, evolution theories, where would we be without them?

8 February - A tale of 3 Men

A simple one really, may expand on it some other time and am sure the male readers would have plenty to retort but... based on a short meal and drink with two girlfriends last night, the following was established: without a good woman most men would not function. I don't care that some of them run big hedge funds or politics (er... case in point, see the mess on the markets and the world in general), they are not very good on a day to day level.

Of these 3 men in question, one would be bankrupt (subtext: if it wasn't for the wife), as he has no notion of how much the tax man wants and even when he does, he doesn't set it aside and would spend it on new clothes because everytime someting is dirty, not knowing how a washing machine functions, he'd just go out get more. And he'd forget the kids's private school fees and a host of other things. He'd forget to feed the kids too if left in his care, if a washing machine is difficult, so is a cooker. Never mind that he has a house full of computers and gadgets on which he's very competent.

One would be a sad lonely figure drinking pints every night at the same pub as he'd been doing for years, and would be overweight due to said pints and bad food and would also not have a decent sofa to sit on or uplighter lighting. These two improvements to his quarters were achieved recently by the new girlfriend who also bought cushions (here my heart goes out to him) and who encouraged him to go swimming four times a week and so he's over a stone lighter than when they met, and has also acquired new social skills and social group by being absorbed into hers.

One would be in heart attack territory and depression if it wasn't for supporting g/friend who also insists on visiting GP's and measuring blood pressure when one has palpitations or when one is ill and who enforces (eventually) assorted other practitioners who can get your rhythms flowing again and help regain optimism, find new work etc.

All these men are over 43 and still causing as much work as if they were 9 years old. It's kind of tiring ... At least 2 of them are currently still performing at the top of their sexual abilities so there is some payback and it's not all doom and gloom.

7th February - Dirty Texting & Memory (again)

Ex lover in town for meetings. tbc

6th February - Adele vs Duffy

Laura Marling wins. And I know about these things.
So, it was great being away most of January, and also only half paying attention to music things these days. It meant that I didn't know who Adele or Duffy are though since seeing the vids I remembered catching Adele on Jools Holland and thinking 'mmmh very accomplished' and 'mmhh wonder if they've asked her to lose weight, the poor girl, this year's Alison Moyet, she'll be fighting off the stylists and cry at night'. (Incidentally, I find body maps of tattos a' la Winehouse, more gross than size 18, so don't hang me on this one).

So, as I was told by friends to go see Duffy but found out it's all sold out, it was time to check these two out on youtube/myspace. From a marketing point of view I totally get it. And I thought it was genius to film Adele inside a car so you could mostly only see her face. But from a musical point of view it was dire. You mean this is what's being hyped? More retro sounding girls? I weep. I wouldn't know who'll fare better. Probably Adele has the better songs but Duffy is more immediate and it can only help that she looks like a scruffed up pammy anderson. If she was too polished the Brits wouldn't buy her. But I wouldn't buy either.

I was however played Laura Marling back in Oct/Nov. when I hooked up again with a former lover who has something to do with her. It's a good sign when the person who plays you the music has an enraptured look on his face when listening to tunes he's by now heard hundreds of times. Of course I thought Laura was also very retro (not Dusty but folksy) and when I looked her up, she too was tasty looking and only 17, thus making her even more of a marketable find. But ... the songs are so much more ... unique. You just have to trust me on this one. So it was a hard choice choosing a family committment last Friday over going to see a tiny gig of hers in Soho on the night of her 18th b'day. But I made the choise, and that was that. Only after, reading some ecstatic review on the Independent only compels the 'Oh no, I totally missed a good one here'.

It will never be the same after those early gigs that you remember forever. Like missing Oasis up at King Tut's back on the days McGee had just signed them or Nirvana at Waterats or wherever it was that year they first played in London, just days before everyone named them as their favourite band. Ok, I can still turn over in my head some Smith's second gig at Hacienda or Pop Group at the Scala, but they've gotten really blurred over the years. Like, the other day, I was on FB as you do and stumbled upon a 400 plus collection of photos posted by various people who'd gone to the Mud Club in '83/84 and therafter. I was not in any. In fact I don't remember any of us ever taking a camera there but, more to the point, as I looked at all these kids, the only people I could recognise were the major players involved (Philip Sallon, Boy George, Marylin, Fat Tony etc) and none of the punters. In fact I couldn't remember who I went with if not by working out who were my friends over a longer span in early 80's. Memory definitely gets wiped out. It doesn't matter, it's largely irrelevant and I do have diaries if I really care to check, but not even a photo? The two Anita's at least had the required gelled up hair and I had some very favourite Bodymap togs. Someone should have photographed us surely?
Sigh....

3 February - Naked Torsos & lemmings

I was curious when I saw the big boards with the very gay (or just jock) b/w photos of men’s torsos, advertising the Abercrombie & Fitch shop on the corner of Savile Row. But that was then. I actually finally went in only because we had parked nearby to go to the Royal Academy and there was a man with a naked torso standing in the entrance and it was 6 degrees and he was super beefy so I had to check it out. Yes, that old ruse, show me the flesh. Imagine this: the music is deafening and the store is huge but filled to the rafters with hundreds of items of only a few same lines ie. you get the same t shirt in ten colours or the same polo in ten colours or the same flip flops staked to the rafters and there’s piles and piles, the idea seems to be stack them high, make it like an Aladdin’s cave that will inspire wonder just because of the size and quantity. And everything has the logo stitched on so huge and prominent it just seems obscene. Even Fila have reduced the size of theirs, and look at Nike and their little woosh. But no, this lot seem to aim at a college fraternity type of person. That’s alien in the UK right? Despite rugby and football clubs. So why? The music is relentless and loud, (am more annoyed that I can’t actually identify the tracks) and quite distracting. The lighting is dark and people are wandering around like you do in club going from room to room, like in the Ministry of Sound ten years ago. The most incredible thing is that the store is chocka with people. I mean, Victoria station choka. Why? Just because there aren’t that many stores open on a Sunday? Or not in this formerly lovely little back water corner away from Regent St and Bond St? Is it because if you buy something you get a carrier bag with the naked torso? Is it because you is black or a schoolgirl and everyone has to have what everyone else has? Why why why? This stuff is glorified Gap, in fact it’s worse, it has no design value, it’s just preppy shit made in China (of course) and costing £50 for a polo. Since when are consumers this cretin lemmings bunch? I seriously had a freak out moment, a get me out of here, I hate the Americanisation of everything, I will become radicalised, I will burn their stores, I will never help a dying man at the side of a road if he’s wearing that stupid logo.

I took refuge in the Russian/French influenced painters exhibition. It had no music but it was just as busy. Stupid me to go to a gallery at 4pm on a Sunday. Never again. It was good but not overwhelmingly so. The Picassos on display were hideous African carving period inspired. The Matisse was not more awe inspiring than what you’ve always seen in a book, just bigger.

And Count Arthur Strong at the Arts theatre later was not that funny. Even my 3 male friends who are fans said so. Maybe he works best on Radio 4. He’s not bad looking when he’s out of the shuffling 70 year old forgetful old crony character though… Nice spectacles Stephen.

Maybe I should stick to staying in and reading on a Sunday.