Donuts

Right. Crucial, Friday type of debate.

Ring or jam?

Now you need to think carefully. Opinion here at work is divided. My own thoughts are, why bother with a ring of plain, glazed dough? There’s nothing exciting about them - from the moment you start into one until you reach your fingers on the other side. They’re yawn central.

Jam filled however… cheeky surprise inside. Also, there’s an element of danger involved – you have to eat carefully or you could be scraping sticky donut innards from the front of your shirt and from your chin.

Krispy Kreme is a current favourite as their donuts are soft and squishy. Most other brands are too bready.

Leading on from this one step further, is the dilemma - jam or custard? I’m a bit torn there really, as I love a bit of custard. I also love a bit of jam. In a donut, in biscuits, on toast.

It’s the weekend. I’m off out for tapas this evening and then off to a birthday party in Holland Park tomorrow.

I suspect I may have a hangover story to tell come Monday…

Energy Drinks

I feel I really need a cart-load of energy drinks right now. After 2 gruelling weekends of artery-narrowing food and a kidney-punishing amount of alcohol, I think I’m ready for a quick visit to The Priory (UK version of Betty Ford clinic).

Last week was a major booze fest that I don’t think I fully recovered from until Wednesday, all made worse by having a super sore throat. This weekend was another stonking booze-fest which ended yesterday in an 8.45am cab dash through the streets of London, to get the other half and I as close to home as possible before the city roads shut down for the London Marathon. We had to walk the last part as we’d left it just a little too late to end our shenanigans before attempting to head home. Our ‘dirty whore walk of shame’ in last night’s clothes, reeking of drink and fags took us through preparations for street-side marathon parties and cheery faced early gatherers, getting ready to wave their loved ones on. My unshaven, blood-shot eyed look sadly wasn’t convincing enough as one of the many fancy dress runners. One of our friends, who we’d left at 8.45am, sent a text message to say that his partner looked like a ‘drag fish-wife’. You can only imagine my appearance as I fell through our front door, crawled up the stairs and flopped onto the bed like a rancid old tramp.

Yesterday was spent loafing about in post-booze haze. I think I drank about 8 litres of water standing at the kitchen sink as soon as I got up. I really wanted to just get a garden hose and place it down my throat for an hour. My tongue felt like the inside of a vacuum cleaner bag (probably looked like one too, but I couldn’t risk facing it in the mirror).

I’m off to see the stage version of The Sound of Music this week so I need to dig out my wimple and starting dusting off a few of my favourite things.

If anyone in the UK has the chance to see ‘Boeing Boeing’ at the Comedy Theatre just off Haymarket, snap up a ticket – it’s hilarious!

Ok. I feel the water cravings returning. I need to go and suck dry a water barrel or three.

Eating for England

I really went for it! I showed Spain what a stomach on legs can really do. I made an enormous dent in the San Sebastian pintxo output. Sadly my trousers suffered the complete opposite - no dents but every space was filled to capacity. So much so, that on Tuesday back at work, my trouseres split and the fly started to fall out. Honestly! I was crimson with shame. However, I think it's more to do with poor needlework than massive overindulgence in this case, as they were brand new and the other pair I bought on the same day are holding out quite nicely.

Back to my trip to Northern Spain. The train was hilarious. It was kinda like camping but on the move. A group of fully grown men in one compartment might sound like the recipe for a wild old time but it was more like a scene from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" rather than "Some Like It Hot"! Six men attempting to step around each other in a small compartment of a rapidly moving train in stripey pyjamas. It was a good job we'd had plenty of wine before each journey, as we just fell about like rag dolls sustaining absolutely no injuries at all. It was a hoot tho.

The gay bar (note - no 's' at the end of the word bar) was fun too but, as per the official Spanish Nightlife Rulebook, no-one turned up until midnight. I was pie-eyed by then but still managed to roll into the hotel at about 5am each morning. The other half had performed his usual task and 'child-proofed' the room for me each night (bless) before my dramatic entrance and graceful swallow-dive onto the bed. My friend David and I seemed to be the naughty boys of the weekend (no change there) as everyone showed admirable restraint on the alcohol front, apart from us. I was still up red-eyed and scruffy-tailed each morning tho, to embark on yet more pintxo adventures.

Pintxos really are amazing. There are literally heaps of them on each and every bar and you just help yourself, telling the bar staff how many you've had when the time comes to move on. Of course I was hopeless at this, as David and I were shovelling fistfulls of the things into our permanently open maws. I'm putting in some photos of pintxos to give you a little local flavour.

Please note also the pic of me - dreadful it is too, but I said I'd do it in my last post. I wasn't too smashed when it was taken but all in of the others I have a somewhat vacant gaze... I'm on the left and naughty David is on the right.

Oh. And could someone pleeeeease explain to me how I get pics where I want them, rather than bunched up at the top of a post? Ta.

Pintxos

Huh?

Yes. Pintxos. It’s the Basque word for tapas. It’s something that I’m hopefully going to be VERY familiar with by the close of the weekend.
Tomorrow I’m off with some chums to San Sebastian in Northern Spain. A group of 6 gay men on a sleeper train through Europe to the sun. How pink is that going to be?

Here’s my weekend holiday checklist…

Tickets
Money
Passport
Hot water bottle – for storing gin onboard the train – a la “Some Like It Hot”
Splendid pyjamas – essential bunkwear for sleeper train chic
Sunglasses – extra dark - for secret, unobserved perving at super cute Spanish hotties
Cap – to prevent my newly shaved head from becoming toast
Glamourous eveningwear
Shorts – need to get my legs brown. Winter has taken it’s toll…my legs look like hairy church candles – although still marvellously shapely!
Cool and groovy daywear – no excuse for looking shoddy
Elasticated waist trousers – pintxos, tapas, pintxos, tapas, beer, beer, beer…
Camera – I’ll try and get evidence of Spanish hotties as mentioned above
A solid constitution – a whole weekend of Spanish booze will require serious focus
A list of San Sebastian gay bars – more of a pamphlet really. We should get around all of them by midnight on the first day. We’ll probably be on a continuous gay loop for the weekend
Easter eggs – rude not to

I really, really love Spain. It’s warm and sunny, people are generally attractive with fabulous skin and no-one goes out in the evening before 11pm. To do so would be social suicide. Everyone has dinner at the kind of time I would be having breakfast, were it a work day and even the cheapest of wine tastes great – in fact the more you drink, the better it gets as your taste buds get gradually killed off…

Adios!

Veg

I’m taking a little poetic licence here (I know, I know, I’ve always been crap at poetry) but the veg I’m referring to is basically me. And my behaviour over the weekend.
On Sunday I had a ‘stay in my pyjamas’ day. It was great.
I’m taking antibiotics at the moment (long story but a clean one!) which means I can’t drink alcohol this week. There have been some ill effects. My right arm has experienced a dull, throbbing pain and is getting weaker by the minute. The sooner I can start lifting a glass the better it’ll be for my long-term health.
However, the weekend was spent with Jaffa Cakes, bucket loads of tea, assorted cakes and a friend popped around with a box of macaroons which nearly induced full-blown hysteria as I was coasting on the edge of a huge sugar tsunami as it was.

Other news…

I think I really quite fancy Sting. I never used to at all but I saw him on TV recently and I felt a bit funny. Maybe it’s the ‘older bloke who’s stayed in shape’ thing. I dunno. Maybe I’d eaten something odd that afternoon. I’ll ponder it for a while and get back to you.

Over the weekend I also took the radical step of having my head shaved. Fortunately it was a voluntary decision, not lice induced! I hate it. The weird thing is, everyone else seems to approve. I’m not sure if people are just being polite but the comments have been v. positive and range from “it makes you look younger” (not sure how that works!), “it suits you” all the way to “ooh! It’s sexy!”. The weirdest thing is that now it’s done everyone wants to feel it! Why is that I wonder. It’s just fuzz. Maybe it’s why people like stroking pets. I’m not against being rubbed gently by people, especially if they’re pleasing to the eye. The strangest comment, and a few people have said it, is “it’s good – you have the right shaped head”. What’s that all about? I’ll keep the buzz cut for a bit and see what other effects it has. I may even get to like it myself.

I’ve just realised that I’ve never got around to posting a pic of myself on my blog. I may do if I decide I like being shorn…

Gasp!

I’ve just had a wee scan over my most recent blog entries and, though I hate to admit it, I need to face the harsh reality that they’re kinda dull.

Eek. Mammoth apologies to anyone who may stop by now and again, please don’t let the recent dip in standards affect your future enjoyment. Look out for new and improved content (that I will have copied from 2005) for your reading pleasure.
“Must try harder”. Funny, that’s not something that ever appeared on any of my school reports. Or in any post ‘sack-wrestling’ feedback…

What to discuss today then? Harking back to an earlier post about what to do with my life, I’ve been having a think about what to do and where to go. Usually these thoughts have been at the most inappropriate times and places and have been accompanied by a slack jaw, open mouth and vacant gaze, sometimes even dribble.

The ‘to do’ question has kinda been shelved as it’s too difficult, so my brain has swiftly glossed over any of these considerations and pounced joyously on the ‘where to’ issue. Travelling is a bit of a passion and it occurred to me that it’s some time since I donned a backpack and trooped off with vague thoughts of ‘finding’ myself spiritually and mentally, whilst lolling somewhere fronded by palms and lapped at gently by warm seas. Of course I never found anything but the best place to get riotously drunk with shady locals of dubious repute and the knowledge that if it’s still moving I probably shouldn’t eat it (usually whilst being encouraged to do so by aforementioned locals!)

…I’ve just been handed a sherbet lemon – wow! It’s been years!…

I enjoyed my 2 year backpacking adventure and then subsequent shorter sojourns and I do yearn for that kind of freedom again. Trouble is, they don’t pay the bills do they?!

Anyone know how I can do it for a living?

On my list of things to discover…

South America – any of it will do. Apart from the dangerous bits. Does that just leave Mexico? Would the Galapagos islands be ok?

New Zealand – wanna catch me a hobbit

The Northern Lights – not a destination as such, the Southern lights would do just as nicely

Japan – I LOVE Tokyo and I’d like to explore more of the country

Canada – apparently Calgary at Stampede time is choc-full of cowboys. Wanna throw on some chaps and get all Brokeback…

Scotland in a campervan – I’ve got a cardigan and a flask

Zanzibar – I like the word so it's bound to be good, right? It’s apparently beautiful

Italy, Spain, France – super close and super sunny (mostly). I’ve seen a fair bit but I’d like to stop and spend time, learn the language, eat cakes, drink beer, take up boules…

Other areas in brief – Asia, esp, SE Asia – Laos, Vietnam, Korea, revisit Thailand, Malaysia & Singapore. USA by large car with loud radio & trunk groaning with junkfood.

I’ll send you all a postcard. I wish…

Club Sandwich

Why are they so good? I’m munching through one right now and it’s great. I only ever seem to have them whilst on holiday (another unanswered question there too!) but I saw one today and decided it would fill a gap. I don’t feel like I’m on holiday but it’s a welcome change from the norm.

My shopping trip over the weekend was a bit of a change from the norm too. Things were going well, until a few purchases in… my card stopped functioning and, try as I might, I couldn’t get it to work in machines or anything. Bugger! Perplexed and a little frustrated I called my bank. They explained that due to the recent activity on the card they thought it had been stolen and put a stop on it! Admittedly, the ‘few’ purchases I’d made were quite pricey and in rapid succession – just two pairs of shoes and a new mobile phone. I was advised that the unblocking process would take 24 hours. Harrumph! That put an end to my spree. I could have used another card but I reckoned I could do it all over again next week instead.

It also meant that the other half had to pay for dinner as I cried poverty and misery due to my new status of alienation from the international banking system. Always a silver lining. Mind you, he would have paid anyway. He always does. Bless.

It’s strange that I bought shoes though. I really don’t enjoy buying them. Not sure why. It always feels such a chore. Maybe it’s because I didn’t actually need them that made them easier to buy…? Didn’t actually need the phone either, I just felt my current one needed updating. I’d really struggle if I were a woman. I don’t get the whole shoes and handbag thing. Don’t get me wrong, I like to buy good shoes (don’t see any sense skimping on something I’ll be standing around in all day/evening), but I’m not filled with the same joy, post-purchase as I am with other clothes. And as for bags! That’s something I simply don’t comprehend. I hate carrying anything. If it doesn’t fit in my pockets (or the other half can’t carry it) it stays at home. Perhaps I need my own lady-in-waiting to cart all of my knick-knacks about, just a respectable few paces behind obviously, as they do.

Right, back to my club sandwich. It’s good but it really isn’t the same without the sunshine, the proximity to a beach/mountain/lake/pool and French fries.

Spring has sprung

… but how long will it last? We’re having lovely sunny weather this week and everything is perky and bright, including me. However, we could be plunged back into gloom again as there is snow forecasted for the middle of next week. I can’t keep up. It’s coat on, coat off, coat on weather.

I had a chicken & bacon panini for lunch. It wasn’t what I wanted at first but I settled into demolishing it with gusto. It was rather good. The only issue I had was that it could have done with more filling at one end. Often the way with sandwiches. Often the way with life too, I think. One end needs a bit more filling, padding or improvement, whilst other parts are choc-full and bursting with goodies. Hmmm. My last post was a bit of a mooch about work which is plodding on the same, as mentioned previously, but other things in my life are tearing along at a cracking pace and I have the proverbial wind blowing thru my hair (also sadly more proverbial than it used to be…)

Talking of wind thru my hair… we got the registration number for our new car today. It’s to be delivered in a couple of weeks’ time. We shall have to start saying our goodbyes to our current vehicle. It’ll be sad. Beyonce (our car – there is an explanation) has done us great service for the last couple of years but it’s time for her to be passed to someone else so they can enjoy her many delights. Actually, now I’ve mentioned the car’s name I realise that our new machine will need a fitting label. It’s not as sexy as Beyonce, but more masculine, shiny and er… well... more German. Perhaps Klaus or Helmut…? I definitely need to give it more thought.

At last it’s Friday. I intend to dent my bank account tomorrow, as it’s been ages since I’ve run amok in the shops. I have hopes of taking the West End by storm and leaving many outlets totally empty of fabulous things. Should I draft a schedule to give structure to my mission? Should I just await inspiration and let instinct take over, allowing myself to be drawn to the designers that my inner being yearns for? I may need a cheeky aperitif to help me decide. I’ll probably have a spot of lunch first, before launching my onslaught. The excitement mounts…

Have a splendid weekend all.

Chocolate fingers, cheese on toast and comfort food

I’m feeling a bit flat lately. Not sure why. My normally perky disposition has been replaced with a ‘Groundhog Day’ kind of gloom. The other half is away for a week (in Cannes of all places!), my parents are a long way away and I’m feeling lonesome. I’m really rubbish on my own. Even TV is boring without someone to talk to about it.
I wish I had a dog. They’re such great comfort and always pleased to see you. It’s totally impractical for us to have one of course, but right now it would do just the trick. A fuzzy friend with an eager to please attitude would be perfect.

I’m having to turn to comfort food instead. I’ve reverted to my student days and I’m eating things I haven’t had in years – it’s fabulously retro . The other half wouldn’t dream of consuming the stuff I’m having right now so it’s a blessing he’s not here to see me devour it. I can’t even divulge the food crimes I’m committing as it’s too, too embarrassing. Some of it involves macaroni, tinned beans and packet cheese sauce but I’ll go no further as I want to keep some shreds of self-respect and dignity…

I think it’s my job that’s leading me to feel this way. As someone who recruits others for a living, you’d think I’d be able to sort myself out. Not so. The company I work for, to the outside world, is dynamic, fresh and exciting but after 10 years I’m over it now. I think it’s time I moved on…

What to? Obviously a food taster somewhere would be ideal. However, I’m getting on a bit (not too far on, you understand but on nonetheless!) so I really need to decide what it is that I want to be when I grow up. Sadly the grown up part is already here and I still haven’t made up my mind. Oh crap! Is this a mid-life crisis? When is mid-life? Where are all of the rules on this stuff kept? Are there some instructions somewhere? Wonder if there’s a website… I’ve got so much ‘life’ stuff sorted out lately that I think I’m on a roll and need to iron out all these wrinkles.

Maybe I should have a cup of tea and a digestive whilst I think it through. I’ll pat my imaginary, virtual dog (I’m calling him Colin) and mull it all over.

Answers on a comments post-card please to….

Alpen Yoghurt Bars with Apple & Blackberry

!

It's madness. I never thought I'd be typing anything like this. Alpen yoghurt bars with apple & blackberry are seriously good. What's more, they're really healthy too. Sadly, I seem to be missing the whole point from the health angle as I've eaten a box of six in two days. I think the idea is to have one a day for breakfast...

I'm having trouble blogging at the moment. I often do it at work during my lunchtime but the nazi internet police at the company where I work have prevented all internet use, apart from management approved sites. Basically, if it's not essential to your job, you can't access it. What a big fat pain. It's not as if I don't get my work done.

So. What have I been up to? Er...

Spent the weekend at our place in Brighton. It's been a while since we were there last and it was great to be by the sea again. Saturday was a be-yoooo-tiful day so it was briliant to be out and about. However, that's really all I can write about on the 'fresh air and clean living' aspects of a life by the sea.

The other half had a small business meeting on Saturday afternoon (captains of industry never switch off do they...?). Our friend David and I decided that a bit of shopping would hit the spot but we were derailed by a nearby bar and the lure of cocktails. At 3.30pm! It's scandalous, I know. But we threw caution to the wind, set up a tab and settled in for tall glasses of ice-pop flavoured goop, fruit salad garnish and a cheeky kick. Some time later the other half arrived to a smiley pair of booze addled wrecks and declared last orders. We trundled off home to have a disco nap before the evening's shenanigans. Half way home, David piped up "uh-oh....". As there was some ridiculous face pulling to accompany the 'uh-oh' I wondered what the heck he was on about. With good cause, David had halted in his tracks. We'd forgotten to pay the tab and had just walked out. Major faff! We called the bar and apologised hugely. The barman - attractive, rakish and, as with barmen almost everywhere, always temptingly just out of reach - was massively impressed and thanked us for being honest. WTF? We returned, now disappointingly sober to pay the bill.

It was starting to get a bit chilly and David began to get a bit grumbly about not having any holidays to look forward to. Suddenly he then lurched off to the left, dragging me in to a tanning salon. I wasn't as sober as I thought because six minutes later I was back on the street with a warm glow and a somewhat rosier complexion. I don't normally go in for a blast on a sunbed but I've got to admit, I did feel perkier and rather more dashing with a Saturday night tan!

We raced home, showered, changed and then nipped to a nearby bar for drinks with a friend before floating off on a vodka foamed wave to a great restaurant for dinner. If anyone is visiting Brighton and looking for recommendations, you MUST try Pintxo People. It's kinda cool, makes the most amazing Blueberry Daquiris (I know - I'm just bursting with testosterone in this post aren't I?) and has a really fun atmosphere. The food is amazing - it's the only chance the other half gets to speak as David and I spend a fair bit of time deep in serious concentration, shovelling food into our usually yacking pie-holes. Poor bloke. We had the best octopus I've ever tasted tho. Even the other half liked it and he avoids all foodstuffs with the texture of marigold gloves, perhaps understandably.

We ended up falling out of the restaurant and getting home at about 2am.

I was just pulling my shoes off and trying to decide whether I could be arsed making a cup of tea before bed or not, when the other half declared he wasn't ready for bed, that we were going back out and a taxi was on it's way. Bloody hell. Back on with my shoes and coat.

Some hours later, when the other half realised he wasn't made for extended drinking or dancing, he hauled David and I out of the club and into a taxi home.

Whilst leaning against the sink with an enormous glass of water before bed, I received a text message from my chums who now live in Sydney. I replied and they called me - they were still ripped to the gills from Mardi Gras the day before and just gearing up for a Sunday night's revelry. I've got to hand it to them. Those guys were rubbish when they lived in London and would be safely in bed by 1am. Sydney has honed them into hardened party boys. Must be all that sea air....

Right. My next post will be shorter, involve more cake and I promise to butch up. Honest.

So SO proud

Before I start on a huge rambling explanation of my recent exploits I’ll give you a rapid, Bridget Jones style round up of cakey goings on over the last few days.

Espresso Crème Brule – so amazing – dessert with a buzz!
Cauliflower cheese pie from EAT containing (of all things) boiled egg – cheeky surprise and I can’t deny it I’m hooked!
Afternoon tea selection of cream cakes.
A vast array of assorted biccies – M&S chocolate cornflake cakes, Jaffa cakes, Digestives, fig rolls – ooh – too many to mention.
Argentinean style cheesecake – who knew!?!

Why I’m not just a lard-filled barrel on legs I don’t know but whilst I can get away with it, I’m packing it all in!

Now. To other business, normal sponge/pastry related issues will return as soon as possible but other stuff has been occurring that needs mentioning.

My parents came to stay over the weekend. It’s the first time that I’ve seen them since the momentous revealing of my being a big ol’ gay. It was also the first time for them to meet the other half.
I wasn’t especially nervous or anxious about it all, as I’d spoken to Mum and Dad on the phone a fair bit since telling them. I was unsure how things would work out tho and I’d kind of resigned myself to just accepting whatever happened next. I’d told them the truth and felt a whole lot better about having done so and I just thought that whatever their reaction was, I’d deal with it.
I can honestly say that I think my parents are quite possibly the coolest, kindest people on the planet – in my view at least. They met the other half more or less straight away (we live together so kind of difficult to avoid that really) and were so calm and together about it. Inside they may have been in total chaos but they never even let a hint of that show.
Over the weekend some barriers were gently lowered and my Mum even said to the other half over dinner (with a lot of wine) “welcome to the family”. An easy throwaway comment in many circumstances but for me, such a huge thing to say and delivered so casually and genuinely. Mum and Dad may still feel a little uncomfortable about things but they never voiced it. I think it’ll still be some time before the issue becomes invisible to them and they don’t give it a second thought but, for now, it feels like we’re well on the way. I realise I’m so, so lucky to have my Mum and Dad.

We went for some fab dinners over the weekend and the parents loved The Lion King, which has changed a little since I saw it a couple of years ago. It’s still great fun tho and must be mind-blowing for kids.

I need a long lie down now after the weekend. I feel suddenly a LOT older and seriously weary – Lord only knows how poor Mum and Dad must be feeling.

p.s. has anyone seen the pics of Harry Potter loooking all grown up and buff?! I feel a bit pervy but OMG!!!!!

Birthday Blog! Excess Cake!!

It was my birthday yesterday. Of course, wishes of many happy returns will still be gratefully received.

I'm usually a jolly, perky sort and haven't really been upset by milestone birthdays so far, but it's occurred to me that I'm now only 12 years away from being 50! Don't know how I came to this realisation but it's stumped me a bit. I hope some fabulous 50 year olds can reassure me that I have much to look forward to! Ladies seem to be able to do it with much more grace tho - lots of older ladies manage to carry it off with such style.

It was also Shrove Tuesday here yesterday. As I'd already been out to a swanky do on Monday, I didn't really feel like going out last night so we had some chums around and did the pancake thing, which was a hoot. I love pancakes but they don't half fill you up don't they?!

We really went for it on the fillings front and after some concentrated efforts at trying almost everything, I had to surrender before my trousers gave out and guests were injured.

The other half then sprung out a cake with musical candles - hilarious - and decorated with marzipan dogs! I'm a bit of a marzipan fan so it was a winner of a cake, obviously had to sample a slice and have a nibble on one of the dogs with a cup of tea before bedtime!

On Monday the other half and I went out to a Gala Dinner at The Dorchester for the English National Ballet, thanks to our friend Craig. It was great. Lots of good food and wine. Lots of seriously glamourous people and an awful lot of impressive cleavage about. I discussed the decolletage issue with the lady sitting next to me (she had a particularly fetching plunge in her outfit and it pays to advertise). She explained that hers were real. Bizarre. I drew the line when invited to actually 'have a feel' but assured her they looked the genuine article. She was a lady of a certain age and a good example of my earlier comment about being 50, or thereabouts, and pulling it off with great aplomb. After such a conversation I became suddenly aware that a knock-out dress really can be improved when it's got a great chest squeezed into it with some spectacular jewellery to dangle provocatively...

Rick Astley (80's singer from the same musical origins as Kylie Minogue) sang at the event and he was really good. No, really!! He should return to recording. He sang a whole set of swing music and knocked spots off the likes of Robbie Williams' lame attempt at a similar thing. I was impressed. Yay for Rick!!

There was also ballet, which I'm still new to but enjoyed immensely, much to my surprise.

Yesterday, on arrival at work I discovered my colleagues had decorated my desk with banners and stars. I'm not a blusher but I got a bit flustered and flappy with all of the attention. They gave me presents too which is so brilliant! I don't normally work on my birthday - I take a day off or travel somewhere lovely but yesterday was a nice day.

Lil’ Star

A bit of a move away from my usual themes of cake/food but I LOVE LOVE LOVE this song! It’s strange as I’m not a fan of Kelis really, but this is so different to the stuff she normally does.

Usually I hate it when a song gets stuck in my head and goes around and around, but this one I’m more than happy to have playing on a loop at the back of mind. For the time being at least.

Thinking of such things… Here is my top-ten list of songs that stick in your mind and drive you mad. Be warned, read this list at your peril – you may have the continual torture of irritating noise in your head all day. My colleagues and I compete to see who can find the worst and fastest acting of these earworms.

1. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
I know, I know. You’re probably thinking it’s a harmless, charming little ditty but take my word for it – it’s powerful stuff.

2. I Love Your Smile by Shanice
Again, sounds inoffensive enough, but give a few runs through in your head and see what happens.

3. In the Middle of the Night by Billy Joel
Danger danger danger!!

4. Ride on Time by Black Box
“Gotta gettup, gotta gettup, gotta gettup…… waaaaahaaa….”

5. Downtown by Petula Clarke
It’s where all the lights are bright – apparently

6. Shiela’s Wheels TV ad tune
Oh! The horror!

7. Saturday Night by Whigfield
It’s so darned rubbish!

8. Rehab by Amy Winehouse
This is such a cool song but played so much on the radio that now it’s been hardwired into my brain.

9. Baby Elephant Walk by Henry Mancini
If you don’t recognise the title you’ll definitely have heard the music – it’s a real killer of an earworm.

10. Two Times by Ann Lee
Total Aaaaarrggghhhh!! Doo doo doo-doo doo-doo....

Right. Got that off my chest. Anyone know of any cures for earworms? That way I’ll be able to endure my colleagues’ best (or should I say worst) efforts and triumph, smiling serenely.

I think I need a quick lie down. I’m a bit scared to read through this before posting, as I may be tempted (subconsciously, of course) to sing, hum or tap out some of the hideous punishments above….

M & S Wraps

Had one for lunch – delish – all I had time for.

I’m so busy at the mo that blogging has been a little down my list of things to do. I’m making an effort so I hope you all appreciate how virtuous I am. Gratitude in the form of cash will, of course, be accepted by the truckload.

So…. What’s new? Weeeellll. Not much really. After last week’s turbulent and exciting events, this week has seen a serene calm descend. The parents are behaving as if the conversation had never happened, or as if it has been something that they’ve known and accepted years ago. Time will tell but they’ve been brilliant in their own way and I’m privately enormously proud that they are handling things so well – outwardly at least.

Our friend left for her life in Namibia on Sunday – she’s lived there before – much earlier than when Brad & Angelina decided to show up to experience the ‘real Africa’. Hilariously enough though they stayed in a German tourist resort that looks like a small part of Bavaria has been uprooted and planted at the edge of the desert – African life is nowhere to be seen…. for miles!

We’ll all miss her (again) but if she stays for a long time I’ll be v happy to visit, as Namibia is a fantastic place. The wildlife there is spectacular and the game parks are so much emptier of people than Kruger or other, more well documented reserves. Go now before the world discovers it and it all gets turned into leopard-spotted Disney. The pic is my close encounter with an elephant at Etosha game reserve – I now know that the colour of fear is brown….

Also been attempting to get some holiday plans organised. So far we’ve decided on Provence in July and a cheeky weekender to Rome in May, as we love Rome so much. Rude not to really…

Ciao!

Big weekend

Well well well….

It’s been a monster of a weekend. From a splendid evening at the theatre to far too much wine, I seem to have packed a lot in - and some.

Phew! I’m not entirely sure where to start with this blog entry. Part of my weekend activities weren’t enjoyable in the least and caused considerable stress. More of that later,

Saturday we went to see Little Shop of Horrors at a small dinner theatre venue. It was FANTASTIC! The production is moving to the West End in March but is sold out until then. If anyone has the chance to catch it then I strongly suggest you do. As there was dinner involved, that meant there was wine accompanying it (naturally!). We were able to drink whilst watching the show and then went for a drink afterwards. Sounds splendid doesn’t it? And it was. So splendid, we decided to continue and all trooped off to a gay club. More booze. I foolishly couldn’t decide what to drink and so panic ordered beer. Nice combo so far - wine then beer. I then realised that I really didn’t want beer so swapped to vodka. Anyone getting the picture yet?

During our now drunken escapades we met a man with some kind of glitter in a jar. We were covered in it and at some point I even got my chest daubed in it – haven’t got a clue how that happened as I don’t recall removing my shirt at any point.

Sunday morning dawned and a corker of a hangover bloomed. After a couple of nurofens, I felt able to take on the world and descended to breakfast, still sparkling like crazy.

Now comes the hard bit…. My parents and I usually chat on a Sunday. This Sunday was different. The conversation went as per usual until completely derailed by my telling them I’m gay. Bless them. My mum said “sorry love, I didn’t hear that last bit”. So had to say it again!
Stunned silence and telephonic static.
Dad’s shocked response was “I’m not happy about that”, Mum’s was “are you happy?”
It was one of the most difficult conversations I’ve ever had. I’m a confident person and comfortable with my sexuality but this experience shook me a lot I’ll admit. It’ll take a while for my parents to adjust and I hope they’ll feel better about it as time goes on. They’re still speaking to me, so that’s a good start. I think I’ve been luckier than a lot of people so I’m grateful and thankful for that.
The hilarious irony of this whole situation was I was sat there talking to my parents on the phone about being gay, attempting to portray an image of settled, grown-up, responsible gay life. However, my appearance suggested the total opposite, as I sat covered in last night’s glitter, reeking of booze and looking like roadkill in pyjamas.

Next step is for the other half to “Meet the Parents”. That’s gonna be a real bust!

Cold Hands!

... Warm heart. Or so they say. I’d ask them what it all means but I don’t know who ‘they’ are.
Anyway. My hands are soooo cold today. I’m usually a warm person and rarely feel the cold if I’m indoors. I just can’t seem to get warm tho. It’s impractical to type wearing gloves of course, well near impossible actually. I may have to resort to ‘old-lady-knitted-blanket-on-lap’ arrangements…

It’s strange. For the past few weeks there’s been the usual wittering from weather channels etc about how unseasonably warm it’s been, daffodils sprouting, slumps in sales of winter coats etc. Yet suddenly, this week nature has decided to report back in for duty and switched off the heating. Bugger.
I suppose it’s a good sign as it means global warming is being held off just a little bit longer.
I watched a TV programme the other day about global warming and how Britain will be affected – it’s a bit scary really. Even if the UK puts all it’s efforts into changing, we’re still at the mercy of other nations who are still showing absolutely no signs of giving a stuff about the rest of us. You know who you are! If you were a person, you would have been well and truly spanked by the rest of the world by now for being a brat.
The UK, however, is far from being perfect so we all have a lot of work to do in order to keep the planet alive. I must get some environmentally friendly lightbulbs on my way home and then plan my eco-friendly 'next steps'!

Sermon over. I think a nice cup of Lady Grey tea is in order with a chocolate digestive. At least I could put my hands around my cup to warm up. I’ve become strangely addicted to Lady Grey tea lately. I must be turning into an old dear myself. It’ll be cake on doilies next and sandwiches with no crusts. Eek. I hope not. I LOVE bread, especially the crusts. When I was young there was almost a full-on wrestling tournament to get the thick ends of every loaf. Not just with my brother but also my mum. Mum was always up early so she usually triumphed, unless she did the ‘mum’ thing and allowed us to get there first.

Mmmm… a nice bit of hot buttered toast would be fabulous right about now…

A little bit of culture

Not necessarily food (or cake) related, but the other half and I decided to make the most of living in London in 2007. We’ve both lived here for ages but we don’t always take advantage of what it has to offer. London is choc full of cool stuff to do and see, but often when you live in a place you forget about all of that as you walk past it daily, on your way to and from work. I often speed by Big Ben or Buckingham Palace without stopping to think where I am. I’ve even actually looked at my watch when I’m stood next to Big Ben – how dim is that!

This year though, we’ve decided that we’re going to experience London more, like we did when we first came to live here. We, and our friends are always keen to try out the new, coolest bar or restaurant in town (how very Sex and the City!) so we’re just really adding on to that plan.

Already we’ve been to the ballet (unbelievable! I’m hooked – if anyone has the chance to see The English National Ballet’s performances of Giselle then I urge you to go!!!), we’re going to see a small production of Little Shop of Horrors next week at a groovy little theatre called The Mernier Chocolate Factory (it includes dinner too – lord knows how that’s gonna fit in with the bloodthirsty theme of the show – I’ll make sure I avoid the beef), have The Sound of Music (what a hoot, must practice my lines…) booked for April, Avenue Q for May, it’s all so... theatrical.

In a previous blog entry I was mournfully nagging on about how I didn’t have any holidays booked – I may not have time to fit any in if I keep on at this rate!

Currently polishing off a delicious mocha. I’m not sure how that fits in with a healthier lifestyle though. I’ll make up for it later by having less tonic in my gin.

Update.... I've just had a small mountain (let's call it a hillock) of Marks & Spencer Fizzy Fish. The sugar rush is incredible. I think I should feel guilty about scoffing unhealthy, waistband expanding goodies but the unparalleled carbs high is sweeping away any such feelings on a fruit flavoured wave of giddiness and euphoria. Wow! I love sugar....

Pie

Let’s talk pies. I like them.

‘nuff said. Then again. I don’t think I have said enough. Y’see, I’m kinda weird. I like my pies cold. Is that too unpleasant for the discerning pastry connoisseurs amongst you to even consider? It makes my friends heave. They all like their pies toasty warm and straight from the oven/microwave/appropriate heating device. I on the other hand, prefer them to be cold so that all the insides have set a bit. Actually, now that I read that last line it sounds totally repellent. Perhaps we should stop talking about pies….

OK. Let’s move on to other stuff. Half way through January and I’m still happily coasting along with my new trying-to-eat-healthily-and-do-more-exercise plan. I’m experiencing a slight loosening of the trouser and I’ve now managed to clear all of the dreadful junk food out of my house (by eating most of it all at once – job done!)
I’m also feeling a sense of inner-smugness that I’m managing to continue with my project. I have to say though, that this feeling only comes over me when I have just finished exercising - before the aches & pains set in. Pre-exercise, I only feel dread and terror. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy it. I’m slightly in awe of those people who spring around, confidently clad in lycra and without any irony or embarrassment. Just the idea of pulling on any kind of stretchy outfit sends me to the kitchen in search of something chewably cakey. I must add that I’m not some kind of man-mountain addicted to baked goods and pastry. I do have to make sure that I don’t go completely off the rails though and I’m always teetering at the edge of the overindulgence abyss!

Heavens! Work awaits and my inbox is now overflowing uncontrollably.

Blog soon…

January Blues…

If I were more musical – actually, that implies that I’m slightly musical, sadly I’m not even minimally gifted – I’d put together some mournful, jazzy number filled with lonely sax solos to fully express how gloomy I’m finding it all at the moment. Normally at this time of year I’d have lots of stuff planned and holidays booked that I can look forward to. This year there has been some enormous cosmic (or maybe, possibly mine...) oversight and I find myself starting a new year literally empty of everything apart from work!! How bleak.

Any suggestions or ideas would come in very handy. The other half and I are thinking a week in Provence might be nice. France is on our doorstep, so we often overlook it for holiday purposes but we’ve decided to investigate further. A bit of sunshine and a chance to brush up on my dreadful French would be quite fun. Add to that cheap wine and basketfuls of baguettes et fromage and you’ve got yourself a cheeky holiday surprise! Well, that’s the plan anyway.

I’d like something long haul at some point this year too. Not sure what that’s going to be but following the wine theme above, the other half has expressed an interest in the Napa Valley. It’s been ages since I’ve visited California and a trip to San Francisco is now well overdue. The other half has never been to San Francisco so it’d be great to pay the city a visit. A walk across the Golden Gate bridge to blow the cobwebs away and a walk into the Castro to blow... scratch that thought.

Whilst chatting on about wine… I bought the other half a lease of some vines at a Kent vineyard for 3 years as a Christmas present. The reception to this gift was much better than I expected so I’m really pleased. I wasn’t sure if it would make a good gift or not. Apparently it does. I’ve been reliably informed – any of you reading this who are better in the know, please feel free to drop a line and correct – that the Kent vineyards have similar soil to that of the Champagne region and thanks to global warming, the wine there is improving by the year. I may have to encourage the other half to build on the wine lease idea, go crazy, buy land and start planting like mad! Wow! That’d be just like Falcon Crest…. It’d have to be called something different tho as the UK wouldn’t be able to support anything with such a name. We’d have to call it Pigeon Hill or Crow End.
Ooh! The glamour...

Tuna Sandwich

It’s weird, and I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I’m so relieved to be eating a tuna sandwich today. After a punishing few weeks of festive food binge, I’m so, so pleased to be eating normal stuff again. At last my trousers will begin to loosen and there will be no major sucking in before fastening.

Christmas and New Year were great – Christmas with my family was brilliant and I got to spend time with my niece and nephew who are far too full of energy. Then New Year at some friends’ cottage in the Kent countryside was very grown up and relaxing, plus I got to eat major amounts of fabulous food.

I’m still full. The queasiness is only just beginning to diminish. Obviously, like 80% of the rest of the western world, I’m now embarking on a healthy eating programme and intend to throw myself enthusiastically into exercise. The reality of my last statement will be that I shall consider scoffing one piece of cake and one chocolate bar/biscuit as ‘cutting down’ and my exercise regime will consist of spending a lot of time deciding what form of strenuous activity to take up and then become stranded on the sofa feeling guilty about not doing any of it!

Still, the above process will be consistent with previous years so it’s comforting to know that I’ve been here before and coped adequately.

I’m considering not drinking any alcohol in January but that is still under review as I’ve got a few events coming up that may require a cheeky snifter or two…