31 October - Packing & Lovers

Sometimes this blog has to host just stuff that i need to record to remind me of this or that since I have not kept a paper diary for decades. So if you're occasional reader don't worry if you get lost in this, it's not for ya.

hi M how are you? back tomorrow i think we'll meet up soon, am on the countdown to leaving on 3rd November
am copying here an email i sent to a g/friend or two earlier. you'll.... 'get it' since you know the main character..
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here's a story from today.
DY comes round to say hi/bye (she's my car boot pal, known her for ages but i guess good mates in last ten years, we like her boyf (now hubby S.),been to the house a few times, dinners, spent w/end there, missed the wedding though 2 years ago, etc - she works in music biz mostly events now for commercial clients, radio shows, Olympics that kind of thing but used to manage bands , in fact still does. We talk about a lot but don't go that deep usually, you just don't these days.

She comes in and i say 'god, i have so much to do and instead of packing I've just spent twenty minutes hooking up the cassette player because i found a tape from when me and ex lover used to record our conversations after sex/during sex and so on and I just had to listen , er... did you do that too?'

she says actually no, i don't record myself having sex conversation but who's the lover?
i say an ex, from many years ago, and the name escapes my lips and as it's C. ie not your regular Paul/John/mike/David... she says...

'oh... that's another thing me and you have in common then...'


are you up from the floor yet???????????????????????

I said 'OMYG, let's check dates, i surely hope we were not on the same years'

we aren't.. she was way after me , around 8 years ago, lasted 2 years!!! and ended just before she got with St. she knew C. through work of course.

but that puts paid to thinking our C. had broken his marriage vows only with me to start with and some other after but ehm, yeah, serial ...

I'll tell you when i see you but his modus operandi seems to be the same , girl friend in crisis, who's been confiding in him about probs and the shoulder to rest on turns to sex. but D. older and wiser than me at time of affair, and not same level of passion so not as cut up as i was when it ended, but still, it so happens that i was putting away a box of his memorabilia/stuff and said hey ,but did he use to write entire diaries for you like this one here for example, or make compilation tapes for you with meaningful songs/titles, she said ha hah, CDs' darling in my years and yes, you know enough similarities of communication.

she thinks last time she had a coffee with him was 4 years ago. she's threatening to ask him to go have another soon and i should turn up. well, we won't do that but it's just too bizarre for words!!!!! and yes C's wife still has ME, which D says (clinical psychologist friend of hers told her) has some root in depression and poor jenny in the big house 3 hours from civilization with the kids, whilst he gallivants around with bands and does what he wants day in /day out, is well, yeah, she can't have been a happy bunny to start with.

it's just .. weird. but not painful of course, i ended my thing with him in 95 or 96 i think ...
what a day!
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reply from M.

Highly amusing reading this. What a sleazy little fellow! I remember the name DY, although I never met her. He was often talking about his 'friend' D. and he even managed to persuade me to let her have some heavily discounted studio time at my recording studio for a band she was managing. She actually turned out to be a right pain in the butt (between me and you) and ran off without even paying the heavily discounted price, which caused me problems with my studio managers. I did suspect this D. 'friend' was more than that though. Funny enough, he gave her a real slagging when she ran off without paying so without this 'breakdown' he claimed she as having coincided with the end of their affair I don't know.

So yes, I can see the pattern clearly and it certainly makes sense at the moment as there is another woman, who I've actually met a couple of times, now in the picture. She's probably late 30's - early 40's, dark, very pretty, petite and just a 'friend' who also happens to be having 'relationship troubles'. I had my doubts of course but after reading your e-mail I have none. Not sure why I should have had any doubts at all really but then again he does manage to carry out these affairs with such incredible secrecy most of the time (as you well know) and maintains air tight compartments between the different aspects of his life, so it is very hard for people in one 'container' to see into another one. He should have worked for MI5!

Poor wife doesn't even have the kids to keep her company these days as they have left home (well one has gone severely of the rails and lives in a bedsit somewhere) so it must seem a very large and empty house to be rattling around in if your husband is off gallivanting around. I had hoped he had stopped all this behaviour but sadly it seems not.

1 October - Forgetting & Stuff

A Boots branch, 3 times gone past it thinking "there's something I need from here" but unable to remember, then Toph buys one and leaves in bathroom. A tongue scraper. He remembered I was after one and bought one. Maybe this is why people have kids, so that when they start to lose their minds, those young ones are around to think for them?

Last night was not that hot. We had fun at M&R 's comedy night. That was super good. Recommend it for your diary end of Nov, Kilburn high rd, it’s over by 10pm and the correspondece between Napoleon's and Wellington's horses writing to each other love letters from battlefields etc is very very funny. H. came with (Portobello rd writer friend) and then 3 of us went to Momo’s because JH was djing there at Chris Sullivan's night. But , and this is typical, we get there at 11.00 and place doesn’t have a vibe as not full. Was filling up fast at 12.15 when we left. Toph had driven down from Manchester earlier and so tired but even if had not driven would have never stayed later. And at high drink prices you can’t throw money just because you need the time to stretch to 2am w/o noticing it's a school's night. Oh forget, he was driving so not drinking (2 pints earlier at comedy/tale event) so he coulnd’t /wouldn’t stay. I said you know back in the days, we’d go out at midnight , place would be jumping by 1am, good time till 2am, start to leave thereafter, home by 3am, quick sleep, off to work as usual. But all old, all boring, all no reason to stay out as not looking for mate for sex (what else) and so it’s sort of pointless to even make the effort. Nice to see JH and JR, but NB was meant to turn up ‘later’ so was not going to wait for that specifically. Of course as we walked to car, there were queues of 20 somethings outside various clubs, smoking and generally very awake. And that just compels it. We are not meant to go to clubs no more. If had known, would have practically lived in one all my 20’s and 30’s.. kind of half did but doesn’t seem ‘enough ‘ somehow. Note on NB. So, in the email invite sent by JH I had seen NB's name and wrote back to say oh my god didn't know you knew him, I dated him briefly in 1984 or some such and he dumped me for a woman I never met but she had a distinctive name I remember to this day since I had the misfortune of hearing a message he'd left on his ansafone for her when I rang and so I knew I had competition. So JH says a) I've escaped a possibly worse life than I've gone on to have and b) he was with this F woman for years and after they split up she entered a witness protection scheme as had been involved in something bad (am dying to find out what) and c) he has a grown up kid and now is dating a 20 someting. NB is older or same age as me. He offers that he's very self centred also. That's before I decide not to publicise that NB and I almost share a b'day and for sure a star sign. Fascinating! well to me at least. After we split up I grandly went into a travel agents and asked where I could go for £100 this being a grand sum back in those days but not grand enough to get me beyond Greece or Portugal. I chose Portugal because the flight was shorter. In May. Not good. Was half built and I was trapped with sort of 20 to 30 holiday club type people (this is before Ibiza and clubs). Hideous time and if I was hoping that NB would miss me he clearly didn't. Did run into him 5 /8 years back. Was uglier than I remembered but forevery mythical in the relatively small world of font designers. I really fancied the other one from Manchester, PS but never got the nod from him.

1 December - Memory & Aids

I receive an email from former flatmate of over 20 years ago with whom I keep in contact a few times a year and see maybe twice a year or so. She's telling me she's off to Tokyo for most of the holidays and how are you and can I take a look at their new website etc.

She's put on copy someone called A. probably because she wants to let him know the same information. It takes me ten seconds to remember who this guy is... Some really really young guy I met a party at her house maybe 5 years ago? He was so full of himself that I found his energy quite a turn on and told hime to ring me. He did. I invited him over, and I think he liked the fact he didn't have to go through any courting/dating ritual before having a pretty memorable night. His opening words were along the lines of 'I'll do anything you ask me to do'. Oh yeah? How about ... and so on. And the best part was that he was off a few days later to South America to go visit the on and off g/friend he had proposed to. Think he had worked in treavel and met a colombian, bolivian, peruvian woman, can't remember, who needed marriage before being allowed into the country. And so I never contacted him again, nor him me, bar a late night phone call later on but you know, I don't do booty calls anymore. It was just one of those ones where I had to prove I could get someone twenty years younger and he had to prove he could be up to scratch to what he perceived as a different level of sex action.


I'm having trouble even picturing his face, I just remember he was wearing jeans and a white shirt and has dark hair. But beyond that... nothing. Funny that. I should really have started taking a photo or two of people in the last ten years as memory does dramatically decline for all type of information unless it's in your face every day and even so... Becks kids are called Brooklyn, Cruz and there's another one... ah, Romeo. See, there should be a switch somewhere that asks you 'Would you like to hang on to this memory/infomation or would you prefer to switch it to something more useful/relevant to you personally?'. But would I want to remember more about this guy A.? Actually no need ....

9 July - I want what she's having... yes! yes! yes!!

As you know, I've become somewhat reticent to describe fun and games in the sexual arena. Modestly prevents me from giving extensive details of sessions starring Toph because, well, it could all come back to bite me on the ass. As for details of other sessions, I have to recall them first as life has become unexpectedly monogamous for a long time now. Sigh....

However, hurrah for my girlfriends and S. in particular who's free and single and though not doing very well on the young 'un sites (cougar anyone?) because they're all mouth and no trousers and fail to keep appointments or have not ignited her flame (she's met one who's 25 and is wanting to sleep with a 60 year old. Yes I know, that would be Marianne Faithfull or Meryl Streep but ... yeuwww!), she's doing well with her older ones. Well, not that old. She met one this week who's here for work and they'd alredy met a year ago so she knew what to expect. It sounded like first night went very well, so I asked her to send me a blow by blow account and she took me very literally. Here you go. Enjoy by proxy, as I'm doing.

In the style of Big Brother, as per Lisa’s request....
This is the story of Stacey (tee hee) & Stan, aka ‘Stan the Man’


12:00 I leave home, bag packed for the week, expecting to be pulled to One Aldwych several nights this week by New York based (exceptionally) casual lover.
13:00 Arrive Soho, plan to wander ‘til 16:00 when we agreed we’d meet
14:00 Receive text : ‘I got here early. Come to the hotel.’
14:01 I reply: I’m busy, I’ll be there by 3:30pm’. I continue my wander
15:30 We meet in the lobby. He is bearing the gifts I insisted he bring (‘bring me my fave chocolates or don’t bother turning up’)
15:35 We head out into the bright sunshine. The plan for the day was in two distinct portions, as per his last email to me :
Portion #1 : the cultural portion. A museum of some sorts
Portion #2 : the sha gging each other senseless portion.
I liked the plan, I have to say
15:40 We enter Somerset House. I plan to give him a tour, possibly ending with a glass of wine at the River Terrace, but definitely including the current Cezanne exhibition, which I was exceptionally keen to check out
15:41 There is a concert this evening, so the courtyard is sadly cordoned off. We go into Cezanne. He pays. Such a gentleman.
15:50 We’re enjoying all the paintings, and the permanent collection. He stops at a painting of a semi-nude redheaded woman and raises an eyebrow at me. I giggle.
16:05 He’s clearly keen to go, mumbling something about it being a nice day so let’s have a picnic.
16:10 We leave. Short but sweet, his arm rubbing my back often throughout our wee wander. Nice touch.
16:12 I have spent the past 2 minutes pondering the picnic option and have hit upon the idea of popping into the Tesco a few steps away, and getting a cold bottle of champagne, and going into Embankment Gardens to drink it . A liquid picnic, if you will.
16:13 He takes my hand and now it's his turn to giggle. ‘Um, no, what I was thinking is that we take ourselves back to my suite’.
16:13 Aha, I think . OK then.... He admits that he had hoped he could hold out ‘til past dinner time, but realised he can’t. We’d not seen each other since last August, but then again that was a one-night only job so... I had no idea he’d remember the session so well. I remembered it well as I’d split up with another lover in late May and was convinced I’d never again find a man who enjoyed going down on a woman so much ... I was happily proved wrong by Stan.
16:20 We’re back at One Aldwych, less than an hour after we left it
16:21 He offers me a drink, and after I take two sips of water, he’s all over me. Damn, I think, he’s rather keen
16:40 We’re still at the semi-dressed stage. I recall that he does like his fore play, does Stan the Man
17:00 Finally the clothes come off in full... loving that almost 45 minutes of just.. fumbling and kissing... like you did in high school. He gets full marks for getting a gal good ‘n’ ready for the ensuing fun.
17:01 The first round of him going down on me... the man redefines the word ‘teasing’. Brings me to orgasm # 1 without even being inside of me. Genius.
18:00 We finally have sex. Yes this is easily a full hour after we started to play. We’ve spent the hour going down on each other – separately, at the same time (Americans just ‘get’ that whole ‘69’ position in a way that my European lovers just.. haven’t. Such a shame. Their loss. Such fun). Stan is also big on spa nking... not so hard that the next morning your bum is red, but just regular unexpected casual sp anks... and one of Stan’s ki nks is that he doesn’t just spank on your bu m cheeks. Oh no... he has a few tricks up his sleeve...
18:15 Done, sh ag #1, we’ve both been so built up (and I’ve had several orgasms by this point), that he comes super quickly... I can’t recall if he’s married or not (I think he is), but as Charlotte from SATC would say, I do believe his wife is not an ‘up the bu tt’ kind of girl. Me, I have a lover in my life who has treated me to the wonders of this position (this was before Stan). When Stan finally realises he’s got the green light to ‘go there’, he’s a bit too enthusiastic, so I have to remind him to take it slooooowly, and it will be worth his while . And it was!
18:30 I’m frisky again .I know, I know. But I am. He’s a creative lover and he’s only in town a few days so...
18:45 He’s hard again. Woo hoo! He’s 38.. there is a lot to be said for the under-40 lover. A past lover (he likes to think he’s still current but he’s all talk and no action, so... I give up) – anyway, he’s super senior at a super posh bank in the City and will turn 52 next month.. and he needs a little blue pill to , ahem, stir him into action. I did read something the other week about how if you haven’t had s ex in ages – if you’re older – men do generally need the little blue pill to get things moving. He is in an utterly se xless marriage so the mind boggles... Truly, I do wonder why people stay in se xless marriages. ‘Doing it for the kids’... .yawn fu cking yawn yawn yawn. They will know their parents aren’t happy . I left my marriage when the s ex dried up . Clearly it’s linked to other things going on in the relationship, but surely it’s the final death knell? If you realise you have no desire to get na ked with someone.. how can you continue? I’m sick of the martyrs in my life who are doing it for the kids . I’m a classic case of a child of parents who really SHOULD have gotten divorced, they so clearly were miserable.

How did I go off on that tangent?

Ah, the older man versus younger man.

Younger men ROCK.

19:00 On all fours, and Stan just enjoying the view, teasing, playing with himself, playing with me, murmuring all sorts of nice things about my ass and body. I think once you get naked with a guy, women forget that generally guys are so happy to be there, they don’t mind if you’re carrying a few extra pounds . Enthusiasm + extra pounds = much better than faking it/boredom + washboard abs. That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.

19:20 More sha gging, finally stopping shortly afterwards
19:30 Stan is lying next to me, quietly panting... then admits : ‘I’m hungry, can we go out now to get food?’

19:45 We’re off, quite ravenous at this point. Dinner at Belgo in Covent Garden, dessert/wine/coffee on Frith Street afterwards, soaking up the evening warmth. His treat, all of it, and I'm reminded how I loathe men who don't treat their women. I'm all in favour of going Dutch or picking up the tab from time to time. But if a guy really wants to score points : buy your date dinner . Show you're not counting the pennies. Even if you are. One thing I adore about my ex husband is that .. he's always broke. Always .More often than not. Yet when we go out - he always pays. When he sees something he thinks I will like - he buys it for me. The most broke man I know, yet the most generous. Go figure. I say again : I loathe men who never treat their women. Being with someone who always insists on splitting the cheque or who never subtly grabs the bill when it comes with one swift move and puts his card down... ugh. Soul-destroying. Sooooo not a good look on a man.

I digress. Again.

22:00 Stan and I return to the suite. He’s very jet-lagged, he admits, and asks me if we can ‘just kind of hang around’. I say sure, but does he mind if I get na ked first? Oddly enough, he doesn’t mind. I’m thinking we’ll watch a movie, and just chill and maybe have a last mellow sort of shag before the end of the night.
22:02 Um, nope . As soon as I’m n aked, he jumps on me. In the midst of kissing, he says ‘well, I THOUGHT I wanted to just hang around’
22:05 As we’re kissing, he asks me if I’ve ever been blindfolded during sex. I say no but that I’m game for most things. We don’t have anything to use but he pushes a pillow over my eyes and I lay there on my back.
22:07 Oh my. Combination of him going down on me very lightly, then sticking various fingers into every hole possible, interspersed with lots of sp anking of various things.. and pinching of nipples. Again he makes me come without penetrating me. The guy has skill....
22:45 I’m panting, after having had 2 more orgasms. He finishes up by coming all over my breasts. Fabulous.
23:15 I’m raring to go again, so we do. Short but... intense. Him on top of me, my legs together, him pushing my legs back over my head.
23:45 The light goes out. I tell him : ‘remember, if you wake up in the night with a raging hard - on, please do wake me up’
01:30 I can’t sleep. He’s snoring (I remember one of the joys of sleeping on my own... men do snore...). And my mind is racing... so I wake him up by going down on him. He’s hard within seconds (or so it feels like), and this session is more me going down on him and him playing with me – not full s ex. This one ends up with him coming over and inside my mouth, lots of mess, lots of fun.
02:00 (I am guessing here at the time now) . I crash out to sleep. Sleep fitfully, mind still racing, but happy of the org asms nonetheless.
07:00 Alarm goes off, he hops in the shower, off to work . Me thinking : da mn, I could have done with a morning sh ag. I am guessing he realised it wouldn’t be a short one (though I would have happily had a quickie – he doesn’t know me well enough .Yet)... and he had to be in St Paul’s early.)
08:00 I’m showered and ready to go (how on earth I can shower and put lipstick on and be ready in literally a third the time that it took him to shower and shave... I’ll never know. I don’t believe men who say women take longer getting ready. Utter bo llocks._
08:05 We part on Aldwych.. he is around and about this week. I’ve no idea if I’ll see him again. I think I will but if not... I certainly had a good time!! I saw this in the paper today and it struck me . Reminded me of my fave lover of all time – aka Mr Alameda – whom I loved and lost and... still love with all my heart. It’s from Isabel Allende, who wrote the play ‘Zorro’, with music by those crazy Gipsy Kings.. I am going to the premier tomorrow. I so believe in that chemical reaction... even if we are never together again I will believe in this reaction, and that it created a bond with us... forever :

Love at first sight has happened to me - with my husband Willie and with a few lovers. I think it is a chemical reaction, something to do with lust and sex. I have a pathological imagination. I see a guy who is available, and it is like I see a Christmas tree with no ornaments on it. I then add all these ornaments and he becomes this wonderful Christmas tree. It takes me five minutes to dress him up. Every man is a project to me. Willie was a huge project. He wore snake boots! His life was a total mess, and I had to remodel the entire thing.

6 July - Nassau & Home alone

S. rings from Nassau where he spends considerable time getting a new business off the ground.

He tells me he's house-sitting for his business partner and that he has a huge, fabulous villa at his disposal but he's alone in it (and noticing the time difference I realise he's rung me when just awake and possibly with a boner, in fact am certain of it). I ask him to send photos and he does, they're breathtaking. I write him, can't you get a local lass? He says he can't really do it anymore with the locals (has, previously) because it's like a small village out there and everyone knows everyone and he' s probably tainted already and he's meant to be above these sort of things. I tell him there must be plenty of passing tourists for him to prey on and he replies they're mostly american and are stupid (apologies to american readers, his words not mine) and he doesn't want to go there. Am sure he's generalising but still, even a passing tourist could become troublesome. What a predicament to be in. Wish I had not a care in the world and I'd just go join him. There are so many rooms and surfaces to cover... judging by the photos. So I tease him and tell him I could bring a couple of girlfriends. Am being cruel. Ha ha! And then I sign off.

I write to S. and forward the photos and tell her. She replies: I love it that he can make you feel like a schoolgirl. We love men like that, don't we? I remember both this vacation and last one, being in my room and being on the phone to Mr Alameda and giggling and shortly afterwards going into the living room and my mom saying both times - 'gee I wish I had a friend like that, someone who could make me laugh and giggle like that'. Alameda is that for me. I become a 16 year old girl with a crush.

18 June- Jam & Jamaica

Have no idea why he came into my head but decided to look up boyfriend ’92 to ’94 or close to those dates by a year or so on facebook. I find one that corresponds to DP and seems to be or have been a (recent) graduate of the University of west indies in Jamaica – which is where we went on holiday in ’92 or ’93. His photo is is too small to see him properly (wish you could enlarge them) but in it, he has two kids attached, one girl definitely mixed race and one smaller boy which seems white like ex boyfriend who and time I looked had met his then g/friend who was caribbean. We sort of stayed in touch through mutual friends for a another couple of years after the split but then I ditched them all. It seemed pointless and I can be casual. Can’t remember name of girlfriend, but the daughter’s I remember as was Spanish spelling of star - Esterella, and rejigged to one of those names that could be written manyfolds, Etreya, Treya– I think.

Yep, must be him. Had cut off all hair already by successive g/friend when whilst previously/with me he had it long, blond and curly and too effeminate even in the 90’s. but he had a good bod, with a nice six pack but … but.. I didn’t love him as much as you should – having broken up previously with someone I loved so much more. These things never go well.

‘I suppose I should ask you to marry me?’ he said one day after break up #1. Er. No, take a hike. Ask properly when you feel it, I think I answered and break up #2 came a shortly after. I wonder if I’d have said yes? Might have done, was not head over heels but was at the right age to ‘settle’, round 30’s and god knows what would have happened. He was interesting to me but boring to my friends, have always wondered why. I think they could see the mismatch and that was a nice way to put it. But nobody said it strongly. Not like my direct Dutch friend dizzy A. who upon meeting a subsequent no good match, the anally retentive but funny W. said to me in the street after meeting him for only ten mins. ‘Lisa no, not him , he’s so not right’. I argued leave me alone type thing but she was emphatic! And she was right, it was over a few months later and bless, she had seen through it.

Er.. where was I? University of Jamaica. I have to wonder if they have relocated there altogether? Just curious. He always liked that culture much more than I did (was half adopted in London by Guayanese family of his best friend) as found it much warmer than his own Cotswold dwelling, tory councellors parents.

16 April - The Manager, The Agent, The Drummer and so on

It would be easy to infer that we had a rock’n’ roll life if I tell you that at a recent gig, me and two girlfriends totted up the following: one had had the band’s manager, the publisher and the manager’s best friend plus she had a snog with the singer. One of us had had the drummer. One of us had had the agent and the art director and sort of it never happened with guitarist #2 (they’ve changed a few). All of the above happened during a stretch of time and not concurrently or simultaneously for that matter. Two of us now would love to do the guitarist #3 and the singer. One of us was sort of ‘flirted with’ by the bass player. It must have been a fun life we had and it’s a band we’ve seen many times/known for years.

But in the cab back R. says she’s so excited to be going to work tomorrow in the same clothes she’s wearing today. She’s staying the night and has not brought a change, though could borrow from one of us. This has not happened to her for a while and will make her colleagues think she’s got lucky. In reality when we get back, she’s showing me pictures of her two dogs on her phone and making cooing noises. She’s mid-thirties now and she makes frequent referenced to the fact that she’s old now.

At least we can laugh at shared stories. It’s when the witnesses to your life disperse that you start to question whether anything ever happened. C. writes me that her mother mentions something she did 29 years ago. C. and her best friend had ducked out of boarding school in the country for a rock n’ roll day in London as both were having a thing with someone in Thin Lizzy I think (they were precocious) and C.’s father had actually seen them but decided not to say anything and let them experiment with freedom. I was not around then but I know this story. But C’s best friend from those days is long gone and this story is considerably less funny told to me, than if she were laughing about it with her co-cospirator. She says something about writing it all down and I tell her not to bother. I occasionally dip into this blog and re-read some earlier entry and because I use initials rather than full names, I find that it takes me a while to work out who that initial stands for… and the anecdote has very little value past the event.

For example at a recent 60th birthday I ran into various people I used to work with 20 years ago (more or less) and because they’re all 2 to 10 years older than I am, I never much hung with them. But I did to an extent, but I remember no highlights, no special episodes. Back then there was also some issue of seniority so perhaps it wasn’t the done thing for a director of something to be a friend of mine outside of work. Now I see how time has levelled everyone. The following day I did go check them all out on their various websites, and whilst nothing major has changed in their work (unlike an ex colleague who was a General Manager last time I knew his position and is now a drugs counsellor! I have to wonder what their levels of satisfactions are and if they’re happy where they are especially if they compare themselves to other contemporaries they work with. It’s one thing having done very well out of being U2’s PR spokesperson for example and one thing being Larry Mullen I’d have thought. And if your husband is a great photographer but he’s never shot a U2’s cover despite the close association, has that ever upset you? But these are topics you cannot cover if you’re not a grade A mate.

28 December - Poker revelations

Boy I love the net. I think it's one of my overused phrases but it's true. So, am here at work, minding my own business, when poker enthusiast colleague comes to tell me of a website where 'if you know which pokerwebsite your boyfriend uses, and what's his username, you can check when he plays/how often, how much, earnings and losses and so on'.
'You're having me on!' 'No, it's true, do you know his details?' 'Yes of course I do, have sat on his knee many a time when he's played and explained whey he was doing well/about to win etc, and then left him to it only to ask in the morning if he'd won and er... no, some giant bad luck had struck and dealt him a run of bad cards etc etc'.

And so it is... it's true, you can do it. Ask me how if you have a gambler in the family. Not only does the site give you all of the above but it helpfully also supplies the information in graph form, pie charts and all manners of scientific, incontrovertible evidence of gambling activity. I'm sure he doesn't know how much he's lost over the months. Yes, notice the use of verb. There's no winnings. Or rather, they never match the losses. And they're enough to keep me in designer handbags, not that I want any.

However, only a couple of days ago did he volunteer that he'll not play in 2008. Oh really??? So for now, have printed the body of evidence, stored in a drawer and will make myself not check again until the end of Feb (I'd like to have a nice Valentine thank you very much) but I won't be able to hold myself back from checking at some point and woe betide he who breaks one of his promises to me....

16 May - A Face & Memory

I get an update email about a website I belong to and visit from time to time. They’ll soon feature an interview with an old designer boyfriend of mine. He’s a guru these days, has been for 20 years since I still have the K Hamnett t-shirt from those glorious days of ‘Stay alive in ‘85’ Yeeks, back then I though it would be a fantastic job to work for her publicist, Lynne Franks gosh, I may have had to join the chanting west London posse and their ‘every house should have one altars’ at which they prayed Nyom Renge Kyo (see? Can’t even write it properly) for money, that being the greedy 80’s and it was ok. Ultimately I never applied, I kind of knew they’d find out in my dark heart that I thought PR was for morons.
But I digress as usual. I wonder if I should offer my services as the interviewer (that's how we met in the first place) and appear to venerable designer as a blast from the past and ask provocative questions like ‘How come the V&A do retrospectives of Kylie’s clothes but not of your innovative and frankly hard to decipher work? And do you think I should forgive you for forcing me to read black type on purple?’ Uhm, clearly am not qualified to be in his presence. And I don’t remember the size of his cock which is saying something. Did I have a mind blowing good time? It’s all wiped out by the years. Mind you the interview has already taken place, I'll just have to wait and read it.

I guess my taste was always divergent. On the one side there was him, NB with his jazz style early album sleeve designs (the magazine design and typeface invention was just budding then) and he was ugly, and on the other side I adored the clean, classical and futuristic design of what I can only presume was an arch enemy of his, PS who was extremely handsome it seemed to me, debonair and cool in black polo neck, Actually he probably didn’t wear one but I only saw him in the flesh very few times and well, wonder who plays him in ‘Control?’. He was a good few years older than NB, was probably stepping out with some gorgeous blonde. Oh my god, it’s all coming back, he was! Some singer in some echo beach singer, Martha oh the horror he was so cool and the song so naff. In the end my budding romance was crushed by an answering machine (now, isn’t that funny, if you’d just asked me I’d have said they didn’t yet exist in ’84 but he had one… Did I? I wonder. Probably, I mean I had a pager too! So, one day after a couple of days of not hearing from him (he’d moved into new flat, I stupidly gifted him some gorgeous bed linen as what he had in the large but bit squat like flat in Stokey was not up to my Egyptian cotton standards – clearly a ‘I plan to spend all my nights here’ mistake) I rang his house and the message on the answer-phone was not the usual ‘Leave a message’ but a more heartfelt, ‘Fway, I need to talk to you, please tell me where you are’ or words to that effect. My dream of love was crushed. Who was this Fway that he sounded desperate to locate? A dark goddess/model/dancer/sales assistant? What about us? Hadn’t I been left solely in charge of his mum and sister as some triumphant launch/exhibition of his magazine only a weekend before? Had I said something wrong? Had I flirted with his assistant at the magazine (who’s since gone on to Vogue or Tatler but back then was a bit lumpy and I was only trying to be nice? ) I honestly cannot remember what ensued or what explanation was given, suffice to say that in an effort to bash any pain on the head, I walked into a travel agent with dreams of grand gestures and asked for a flight to wherever. Given my limited budget back then… can’t even remember what job I had, I was given the option of Greece or Portugal and chose the latter as the flying time was shorter. What I failed to grasp was that I was being sold an ‘18-30 holiday’. This turned out to be ghastly and full of not the London glittering people I was used to mix with. My time frame was wrong as well, it was in May ie. not really that warm and it was in the infant day of the Algarve so all around me was construction work and I couldn’t leave any earlier than the week booked. Oh how I suffered, did I even have more than 2 novels to read? Or was my entertainment watching the northern girl basting her breasts every day with butter or some such and turning an infernal shade of red? Or studiously avoiding the games the rep set up? God knows how come designer deity and I managed to only run into each other at a gig at defunct Blue Note a good six or seven years ago and didn’t exchange numbers though curiosity was killing me. Who is Fway? I wanted to ask? Was she worth it and do you too now have kids with stupid spellings for names?

23 April - Rio & the boy

A friend is in town with his new g/friend. She’s never been to London before, we go to a great restaurant in Charlotte St (Rocka? How quickly I forget) except for the LA style waiters who keep making suggestions for food and wine to clearly get us to inflate the bill. The way they were pouring out the bottles of wine and hassling for re-orders! I totally hate that pushiness, it’s so annoying but as they seem to have 6 people looking after the 4 of us maybe everyone in here is on commission. Anyway, the g/friend is fine, she’s wearing a rock chick top with bra on show and she has those sexy gap teeth that the BF loves. Me, I like them little less so, have well documented by fetish for perfect teeth. Funny how BF likes other girls to convey ‘dirty’ but prefers moi to be above that look. Not that am ever prim, far from it, but I never do the fallen out of nightclub look. Anyway, the new g/friend innocently asks how me and her boy met. So we give her the story of our fortuitous encounter in Rio de Janeiro minus the small detail of how we er.. slept together for much of that time.. NYE 2003 onwards in fact. He’s sat directly opposite me and being as diplomatic as me. Sweet. Yet, what with the flavours of the gorgeous food slowly releasing, and the good choice of wine, I have to reign in the memories. But that was then, and this is my blog so here it goes….
tbc ... tomorrow.

5 April - Three men and ... girls

Mmmh, just thinking about setting myself more spring cleaning tasks has tired me out so much that instead of sorting out the abode and after a quick tour of myspace which saw me travelling across the sites of many a supermodel (Marpessa, Iman, Carla Bruni, Neomie Lenoir, Monica Bellucci – once you find one they’re all ‘friends’ how sweet) and consequently feeling a little wanting in the looks department, I’ve gone and booked me the facial, the laser pigmentation removal, a bit of botox, new hair colour and so on… The receptionist said ‘Shall I book you a brazilian or a hollywood’ and I shocked her by saying ‘No, don't need that, the BF likes fur’. She recovered quickly and as the dark, dark and long haired Croat that she is, she said ‘Can I marry him?’ as she clearly has to recur to waxing very often.
Moi, I am a sort of blonde, fine haired girl so it truly never is a problem, weeks can go by and no man would recoil in horror should he caress my legs. So, yes, no spring cleaning, just freshly laundered and perhaps even new sheets and a Bellini in the morning.

However, my friends do top me all the time. Here’s what one had to say and I have permission to quote her verbatim:
“ Feeling good, yet still somehow deflated, that I have shagged two different men in the space of a week, and had an 'above board' date with a 3rd last night .... yet... will be my own for Easter long break! Hard, but... then again, I should just calm the fuck down...I have had 2 men in a week - surely I can go an entire weekend not trying to shag a 3rd, yes? YES??!”

Me, I just say, girl you wrote me this on Thursday, have faith, the w/end starts here….. and hope we're all going to find the egg the easter bunny is going to leave for us.

20 December - Bear with me... I need to get five free minutes

tbc.

No, I never did get the five minutes and am re-reading this post in mid-June 07, ie. six months' hence. God knows what were my hopes at end of this year for the next but am still not rich, nor have I moved to spacious, grand home, nor have I finished something I started. Am not one for lists but we all carry some nebulous one in our head at all times and those were the items...

However, back now I woulnd't have dared hope to be still in love with the same man or that his charms would grow even more on me. Let's face it, he doesn't do that much except for being adorable and for putting up with me and not walking away and for that he gets rewarded with what I do best. Ego boosting. Boy if I ever turned the other way you'd wither and die. But, no need for that now that we're all mature and grown up. Rambling... He's my boy. Here's to the next six months with Toph. More fun, more holidays, more sex.