Love at first sight???

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive: it was first published on 24 November 2007 at 17:54. Facts, feelings, and views may have changed since then.)

Phew, I've just come to the end of another night shift, and it's been a night where every single hour seemed like two! And, I wondered if there could be any more than 24 hours in the day? Why oh why, when you're watching the clock during working time, those ticking hands rotate at half speed, yet if it's your leisure time, they practically spin themselves off going so fast!

During those long dark night hours, we tried to make up songs about the place that is called work, now I don't claim to be a wordsmith or a clever lyricist, so my addition to the collective collaboration was simply - "I think this office, is like an orifice on the lower portions of a hippopotamus" OK, so perhaps I shouldn't give up the day night job! 

During lunch, David and I sloped off to Shaw Towers to escape, and whilst we were there, I popped a DVD of Sex And The City to while away our hour of freedom. It was one of the shows where someone was getting married to someone else after only knowing them a couple of days, love at first sight, and it's got me thinking. Is there such a thing as love at first sight?

I asked David, and his reply was a firm, vehement, No! A no messing, no nonsense. A non-confusing no. Rach from the office gave an equally strong no. I've just spoken to Jake, and he says yes, hurrah for romance!

What is Love at first sight? Well, according to the internet's equivalent of the font of all knowledge, otherwise known as Wikipedia, Love at first sight is an emotional condition whereby a person feels romantic attraction for a stranger on the first encounter with the stranger. The term may be used to refer to a mere sexual attraction or crush, but it usually refers to actually falling in love with someone, literally the very first time one sees him or her, along with the deep desire to have an intimate relationship with that person. The stranger may or may not be aware that the other person has any such notion, and may not even be aware of the other person's presence (such as in a crowded place). Sometimes two people experience this phenomenon towards each other at the same time, usually when their eyes meet.

If you ask me, I'd love to believe in love at first sight. I like the idea of romance, of the whole possibility that you can, possibly see that one person that you instantly know you want to spend the rest of your days with. You know what I'm talking about, the one person that presses all your buttons, that lights all your fuses, that ignites the fire within? As I say, I'd like to believe that you can see them, just once and know it's them for the rest of your natural born! But I think sometimes those four-letter words that both begin with L often go together, yet have completely different meanings. I am, of course, referring to love and lust, and when they collide, it can be fatal!

Love at first sight, I so want to believe, when I started writing this, my mind travels back a few years to a time in a smoke-clouded Revenge nightclub here in Brighton. I was walking through the lower floors bar with my pals DB and Dan, when all of a sudden, walking in the opposite direction was a single young lad, around my height, with dark hair, wide eyes and a strange yet intriguing smile. Our eyes met as we passed by each other. One, two, three, I turned to see at the same split second he also turned around. Humperty humperty humperty went my heart. However, my friends were still walking toward the bar, and he was walking towards the dance floor, and I thought, 'what a cute guy,' yet continued to the bar. Drinks were consumed, and dances were danced - with my friends. Then, we took a stroll on the upper level. Suddenly, as we were walking toward the upstairs dance floor, walking toward the bar.....yep, you've guessed right, that boy again, we smiled, we passed, one, two, three, we turned at the same time. Was it love at first sight, or was it lust? This time, we walked towards each other, no words were spoken, but our lips came together, as our lips parted and our tongues met each other, our hands explored each other's backs. Our chests were pressed together, and I swear I couldn't tell if the pounding I felt was our hearts beating at the same time or the thumpingly loud music. We broke this snog and smiled at each other, and then parted again.

I never did get to bed with that boy, although we've snogged each other many times on numerous nights after that first electrical meeting, we never took it to the next level. I have no idea if what I saw that first time in Revenge was love or lust; I can't tell, I don't know. But what I do know is, I have not forgotten that boy. I've often thought of him, I've often wondered about him, I've dreamt about him, I've not met him in the intervening years, yet, but he still controls a part of my heart and mind, and perhaps my very being. Whenever I hear the phrase 'love at first sight', I think, with a smile crossing my lips, I think of that night in Revenge when I saw him, that boy, who got the nickname 'cap-boy', for the very first time, and I wonder whether it was love at first sight or lust at first sight.

It's up to you now. Is there such a thing as love at first sight? Does it really happen? If so, who does it really happen to?

Madness!

(2026 Edit - This post is from the archive; it was first published on 19 November 2007 at 01:06.  Facts, feelings, beliefs may have changed since then.)

I woke with a full bladder and a howling in my head that struck my very core. Yet as I emptied my bladder, the howling continued unabated, either I have a brain tumour or it's windy outside, I reasoned with myself! I padded to the lounge and found the window open and thankfully gazing down the street to the sea, I could tell that the brain tumour had not struck me down during the hours of slumber - it was windy as hell! I could see the white water of the waves racing to shore and pondered going for a ride, obviously, it being a Sunday, I dismissed that thought straight from my head in an instant, I'm not that mad!

After I had ventured round the road to the little corner shop, which must be the only one left in England that isn't run by Asians and got the Sunday papers. I felt the wind on my face and decided to take a little walk along the front, so I went down that way and nearly got blown off my feet; it was then decided to be a short walk! I was along the front, looking at the waves and saw all these people along the bottom. There was some kind of commotion going on! Upon further inspection, I found it was the Brighton 10k run. These brave, or mad, fools were running a race with the wind in their faces; it must have been bloody hard, as I was having a job just staying upright, and I was standing still. I watched these athletic fools in admiration mixed with sympathy for a while, until my fingers had turned to ice and numbness was setting in, and my nose resembled Rudolf on the eve of Christmas!

So that was my morning, my seafront walk curtailed by the bitter wind and the rumbles of an empty tumtum! I relaxed with a bowl of muesli and worked my way through the papers whilst a seemingly unending circle of Grand Designs repeats played on one of the freeview channels. Whilst I was relaxing, on the other side of town, Jakey was working his little tush off in his part-time extracurricular paid activity. A rather well-paid part-time job that isn't conducted in an office, if you know what I mean? Still, a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do, especially one whose putting himself through university without rich parents to bankroll him.

Children In Need raised £19 million, £20 million, or £21m depending on which paper you read and with variables of 2 million between three newspapers, it makes you wonder how much of what they print as fact you can actually trust. But, whatever the actual bank balance, it's still a hefty sum of charity donations to help give the needy kids of once Great Britain get more smack, crack and coke!

The Christmas spirit seems to be a bit lacking in Australia, store Santas have been banned from chanting a merry ' Ho Ho Ho' because, in this 'politically correct' madness, it might offend some women; instead, they have to chant the un-traditional 'Ha Ha Ha'!

One of the funniest moments recently watched on 'I used to be a celebrity get me in here' was former boy-band member J, not having a clue of the running order on one of his own band's CDs. Luckily, from the group, dumb blonde Gemma the ex-actress from Hollyoaks, was a fan and got the question right, and they were rewarded with chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh, and staying with the show, I must say hats off to Geordie hosts Ant and Dec, for making this car-crash TV look good and almost interesting, which it has yet to be. Oh, and one other thing, is there ever anything that doesn't get a loud belly laugh from Mr Christoper Biggins, who must surely be the biggest and campiest creature in camp? You can say what you like about ol' Biggins, but he's sure put some life into this already dull show, so long may he continue and with a bit of luck and some double-sided sticky tape, he may yet be crowned King of the jungle!

I've always thought X Factor judge Louis Walsh was a bit of a knob; now he's just gone and proved it. Speaking after appearing on the really dross Katie & Peter Unleashed, he said of Ms Price, 'She asks the questions everyone at home is thinking? Really? Is that what he thinks? I would have thought most people at home were thinking the same as me, when is this fooking crap gonna end!!!!

Winter again

(2026 Edit. This post is taken from the archive. It was first published on 18 November 2007 at 00:03. Facts, details, and views may have changed since then.)

Today's weather - wet, windy, cold, I think winter is here at last!

I was a good lad, when Jake said come down for one last night, I took him at his word and went down for one, which, as is always the way, turned into two, but that kinda goes without saying. I mean, I'm a gay man, and we just can not have just one pint in the pub, it's not the done thing, it's just not gay-legal!

Besides, I just had to get out of the house, I was suffering Charity over-load! The annual Children In Need was dominating the BBC schedule, and I'd had about as much as I could take. I mean, we had old Terry Wogan hosting along with flighty Fern 'Xtra Factor' Cotten, which was OK, but I think I do sigh at the constant demands for me to pick up the phone and give my hard-earned dosh to kids' charities by various celebs, who, if they gave just one day's wages, would negate the need to have such appeals in the first place. 

Anyways we had John Barrowman singing, which was good. I can hardly believe he's 40, ya know, or he's been with his partner Scott for 16 years, but I'm digressing. Back to Children In Need, I'd got bored of the charityfest, OK, so I may sound tighter than a Pygmy gnats arse, but I do give time and money to charity, I just don't like being asked for it, and besides, we had Jason Donovan singing Too Many Broken Hearts and looking like a complete startled rabbit. Oh, the shame of it all, so when Jakey texted the location of the beverage-taking establishment, I slid on my slingbacks and hared down the road to the venue that was once Charles Street and is now just Messy Road!

So after a couple of pints had turned to four, it was time for Jake to do some work and me to head home, which reluctantly we did. Oh, now, I did something I don't usually do, I approached this young thing in the bar, as if I was going to chat him up, which is something I never do, because....well....I can't! Anyway, he was about 24 or so, slim, dark hair, the kinda boy who would not look out of place grinning up from the pages of a magazine, well at least that's what I thought as I was getting to the end of pint number four. Anyway, as Tom Cruise would have said in the 80's before Scientology took over rational thought, I crashed and burned!

But worse than being rejected, turned down, kicked into touch, this lad with the dazzling smile, even had the cheek to call out 'See ya later, pop's' to me as he made his exit! Pop's? Me? No, I'm only in my thirties for fuck sake? Surely pop's is reserved for men of much more advanced years? Like grandfathers, or grandpa's for example, not mere thirty-something year olds like myself. I mean, I'm still in my prime, a hot specimen of pure maleness, I'm not over the hill yet, am I?

I suppose there is that 'age' thing that surrounds the gay population, or at the very least, some of it. You know that ageist mentality that pretty much adds twenty-odd years to your age once you go past 29 for the last time. So I may be 38 in the real world, in the gay world I'm more like 58, far too old for wearing Prada Jeans, Abercrombie tops and chatting up 23-year-olds?

Talking of bright smiles, have you seen the advert for the new Colgate Total, Professional Weekly Clean toothpaste? Apparently, it's formulated with the same stuff the dentist uses to clean your teeth with something called prophy-silica or whatever. Anyway, it comes in a box and is supposed to make your mouth feel amazingly clean. So I got some, first of all, £3.29 for a tube of paste for teeth is a little on the side of expensive. Then, when I got it home, I was even more disappointed, the rather chunky box is just that, a box! There's nothing in it except this tiny tube of paste, and mark my words, the tube is tiny. The box proudly proclaims it's got 6 weeks usage, that's all, jolly good until you remember 'Weekly Clean', you only use it once a week, therefore that's 6 cleans - £3.49 for 6 cleans, what a waste of money. Still having splashed the cash on it, I used it, and to be frankly honest, it made my mouth feel fresh, but only about as fresh as popping in two pieces of Extra chewing gum! So this 'Professional Weekly Clean from Colgate Total is more like a total rip-off!

The Box makes it look good until you put a normal-sized tube next to it, and then you see the real size. But it's not until you take the tube out of the box that you see the actual size of your purchase! Is this clever or misleading packaging?

 

Apparently, you can forget Wii's this year as they've sold out long ago, but the next big thing on kiddies' Christmas lists this year is going to be Dan Dare! Yeah, apparently, the strange superhero of the 50's is making a comeback. He's all set to be the next big thing in kids' entertainment. Which begs the question, is everything old going to become new again?

I think I might be about to get into classical music, violin music to be more precise. Is this because as those years advance, my tastes are becoming the same as my crusty old father's, or because Joshua Bell, who's storming up the charts if a fit bit of totty? That's him on the right, make ya own mind up!

I'm still getting to grips with this cyber social interaction malarkey, I've got profiles on various different sites because friends have told me I should be online and up to date, yet I've only got 19 friends on MySpace, and I need more? But what's the etiquette about asking people to be your friend on MySpace? Is it considered bad form to just nip into someone else's friend list and then invite those other people - is that pinching your friends' friends? Will I get the Internet police after me for pilfering other people's mates? How do you get more MySpace mates without seeming like a desperate Billy-no-mates needing to be popular?

I've had an email informing me that two of my friends on Facebook have invited me to a quiz and sent me a beer - now that's nice, isn't it? Although I don't understand how I'm going to enjoy a beer on the Internet without blowing up the PC, it's still a nice thought! This whole Internet socialising trend seems to have taken over the world, once just the domain of the younger generation, is now home to middle-aged mums, dads and grandmas, indeed even the odd pop's! But as we get more and more social in cyberspace are we getting less and less social in the real world? Are our social skills becoming less about talking and more about typing?

If reality is no longer real, when is reality actually reality?

(2026 Edit - This is a post from the archive; it was first published on 16 November 2007 at 23:23. Facts, things, and views may have changed since then.)

The whole of the south has been bathed in clear blue skies and watery winter sunshine for the past couple of days, which has made my time away from the office all that much much more enjoyable. Yesterday I got the old cycle out and trundled off to Portslade and met up with Mo! Mo, for those that don't know, is a 50-something lady with the energy of a 20-year-old who loves to club to really hard dance music that's so hard it makes the ears of your average hoodie boy bleed! We nattered and chatted and then cycled down the prom. She went off to meet her daughter, and I came home to relax my aching muscles.

As one reality TV show takes to the airwaves, another finishes relatively unnoticed. Celebrity Scissor Hands, a show where allegedly celebs cut various poor sods' hair, all in the name of reality TV and charity. I'm not sure where they've got the idea of Celebs from, I mean, on this hairdressing disaster show they had tiny wee teen rapper 'Lil Chris' equally tiny yet much older actor Warwick Davis, DJ Brandon Block, some young Aussie geezer called Ben Nicholas who is/was an actor apparently, also a radio producer and some silly girl no one's every heard of. Oh, and some girl from Hollyoaks, which I haven't seen for some time. Obviously, not your A-list celebs feature on this BBC offering, which, as it was over on BBC3, had an audience of about 40 and a dog! Still, hey, it was for charity, so I shouldn't knock it too much. I'm just left with contemplating the question, why? Is this what some fat over 50s executive things the youth of today want?

So as the last snippy snips of the celebs' scissors fade into the distance over on ITV, their flagship reality show 'I used to be a celebrity and now need something major to relaunch my now dead career,' has started. OK, so perhaps I'm being a little unfair, I've previously enjoyed 'I'm a celebrity, get me out of here', I've liked the fact that these odd bods of z-listdom have had to sleep rough in the Australian jungle and do various horrendous stunts and trials to get food for the evening meals, obviously all under the watchful eye of hundreds of cameras.

Now this years collection of show business hasbeens included - Lynne Franks, Public Relations guru and New Age feminist who allegedly inspired Jennifer Saunders’ Absolutely Fabulous character, Edina Monsoon. Marc Bannerman, an actor Marc found fame playing Gianni de Marco in EastEnders, and has since undertaken a variety of new challenges, mainly signing on the dole! Gemma Atkinson, It’s hard to miss former Hollyoaks star Gemma, she’s usually plastered across the pages of lads’ mags, newspapers and women’s magazines. She also appeared in the last series of Soapstar Superstar, so in other words, she hasn't had a proper acting job since Hollyoaks. Jason J Brown from a now debunked boyband called 5, that lasted for all of five minutes. Anna Ryder Richardson, a pint sized designer that used to work on the BBC show Changing Rooms. Rodney Marsh - who? A moody chef John something race, who actually seems quite normal which is rather strange for a reality TV show entrant. Katie someone from another reality show, so hardly a celeb at all and then you have a former model that's was last seen in the 70's and should have stayed there and has the loudest mouth on the show and that's really saying something - Janice Dickenson. Oh and a former Brighton resident, a larger than life rollypolly Christopher Biggins, who'll go anywhere for a glass of champagne, indeed he was even spotted at the opening of an envelope recently.

So, this years collection is showing signs that even this flagship show is finding it tough to get decent celebs on board, could this be an indication that reality TV shows are on the way out and we, the viewing public are seeking an altogether more sophisticated form of entertainment?

Mind you, reality is less reality these days, previous revelations from various other progs in the same genre have shown us that the only reality left in reality TV is the editors knife. In the passed year we've had made up kids winning competitions, producers phoning in shows pretending to be the audience, a dangerous bear actually was a man in a bear suit, Gordon Ramsey fishing with a spear, yet the fish he 'caught' was actually one caught by someone else an hour before. We've seen clever editing making villains and hero's out of people that really don't deserve either title. And now, I'm hearing gossip on the 'jungle' drums that not all the pretend celebs over in Australia are spending all their time in camp. Oh no, from various reports received from one of the crew over there, certain celebs are nipping out of camp to the crew village, relaxing in the warm, having proper toilet breaks, beer and energy bars proper nosh up. Timmy M is working on the ITV2 version of the show and told of how he went to one of the drinks areas for a beverage for his shows presenter Matt Willis and found two of the supposedly 'imprisioned celebs' lounging about. So it would appear that even this reality is not actual realatiy, just a TV version or what reality would be had it been left to be real. Which begs the question what really is rreality these days? And, is it really reality if there are no reality TV show cameras there to record it? And does an warbling tree knat's farts sreally smell if there is no-one in the Queensland jungle to smell it?

I'm going for a lie down now, I think I've overdone the whole reality thing! I can not cope any longer, I need a break from all of this, give me a dose of normal TV, please!

Funny News Days

(2026 Edit - This post was one of the earliest ones found in the archive, dated 14 November 2007, published at 14:01. I was living and working in the seaside city of Brighton, on the East Sussex coast. Images from this post have inadvertently been deleted.)

Do you ever see the news and wonder what the hell is going on with the world? I often do, and today is no exception, for example, catching my eye today from the newspaper and the 24-hour news channels is the very odd story of an Indian farmer who has married his dog! Yes, honestly, it's true, this guy has actually married a dog after a long search for a 'suitable bride'. Selvakumar managed to get a four-year-old mongrel bitch from a friend and had a fully-fledged Hindu wedding in front of villagers and elders on Sunday. Eyewitnesses said the canine bride, named Selvi, was adorned in a sari and flowers and brought to the temple by village women. A Hindu priest conducted the ceremony.

I know we're all supposed to be going green and recycling, but if the latest trend in China starts to happen over here, I'm not joining in! Apparently, over there, used condoms are being recycled into hair bands in parts of southern China! A bag of ten of the recycled bands sells for just 25 fen, which is about 2p, much cheaper than others on the market, accounting for their popularity! Used second hand condoms in your hair sounds pretty revolting to me, but it's happening over in China. However, in one of their local papers, a government official was quoted as saying recycling condoms was illegal.

An ancient law banning an English town from holding a market because it is less than "a donkey ride" away from one in a rival town was branded an ass on Tuesday. Yet the centuries-old law is used by residents of South Shields near Newcastle to prevent their neighbours in North Shields -- just on the other side of the Tyne river -- from setting up a market is still being used. "We have been trying for a number of years to get around this," said Maggie Richardson of the North Shields Chamber of Trade and Commerce, which wants to set up a weekly market. "But every time we have approached South Tyneside Council, they say they were given a market charter some time in the 1200s by King John, so that no one can set up a market within a day's donkey ride.

Other very odd laws of 'Ole England' that still exist, according to a dodgy UK TV channel, include the following:-  It is illegal to die in the Houses of Parliament. It is an act of treason to place a postage stamp bearing the British King or Queen's image upside-down. Eating mince pies on Christmas Day is banned. A pregnant woman can legally relieve herself anywhere she wants. It is illegal not to tell the tax man anything you do not want him to know, but legal not to tell him information you do not mind him knowing. It is illegal to enter the Houses of Parliament wearing a suit of armour. All false, except the last one, as armour has been forbidden since 1313. 

My school days were never as interesting as they are for the kids today in Nottingham. Nope, a young schoolboy was given a very unexpected surprise for his 16th birthday when a stripper turned up in the middle of his drama class. The stripper - dressed as a policewoman - had been booked by the boy's mother, who had apparently asked for a "gorilla" to mark her son's big day. The woman even asked the teenager's teacher at Nottingham's Arnold Hill School & Technology College to film the event so the family could see his reaction. On arriving halfway through the lesson, the stripper walked up to the unnamed boy and made him crawl around the class on all fours like a dog. Then, to a Britney Spears track, she spanked him 16 times - once for each year - before stripping down to her bra and knickers. It was only when she asked the schoolboy to rub cream on her booty that the shocked teacher called a halt to the show! The mother is claiming a booking error for the incident, but surely the school shouldn't have allowed this. I mean, is this the kind of lesson we want our kids to learn?

Edit - I've just been emailed this bit of news from a reader!! A man nicked in Glasgow for having sex with a bike!!!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/glasgow_and_west/7095134.stm

Laptop hunting

(2026 Edit - This is one of the earliest posts found in the archive of this blog. It was dated 13 November 2007 and published just before noon. At the time I was working for and American company as part of their multifunctional night team, working from 8pm to 8am.)

It's day four of what would be my four away from that place they call work, or rather it would be if I didn't have the next shift off, therefore it's day four of twelve. I shook the sleep from my eyes early this morn and headed on a walk into town. My first thought was to check out the shops in Churchill Square, however as I arrived at the monstrous glass and stone monument to retail delights before 9am, I carried on and headed up towards the Seven Dials area of town. I hardly ever explore this end of town, indeed the only time I've ever spent time up this neck of the woods is when I was shagging a part time DJ with a passion for weed and taking it up back passage when the girlfriend was away!

As memories of those sexual adventures faded I carried on along The Old Shoreham Road until I found myself outside PC World, which is a pretty long way, in fact according to Google maps, it's 4.9 miles! I snuck inside and marvelled at the expensive laptops on offer and wondered, A) if I could afford one. B) If any staff were actually there to help or just chat amongst themselves. After a full 20 minutes of browsing the technical wizardry and no sign of any employee venturing anywhere near me to offer assistance, I departed and trolled up the road to Curry's! 

It occurred to me that service these days seems to be a lost art to most shops. PC World, could and would have had a sale, if only their staff had come to aid me in my laptop deliberations. Yet, as the two closest members of uniformed staff discussed their last nights activities the chances of me splashing out £800 on a new laptop diminished by the second. Yet, at Abercrombie, the staff were there, ready willing and able to assist and offered such on a very regular basis. Even Curry's, never known for good service, offered assistance as I checked out the merchandise, I was tempted, very tempted!

Whilst I was riding the bus homeward, well come on, even I am not silly enough to be walking over 9 miles before lunch, I had a textual conversation with young Jakey and made plans for him to come round this evening. Jake was suffering a dull lecture up at the university on something or other to do with his business studies course. He was also suffering the effects of too much cheap wine the night before, not that he'd been anywhere, it's just last night was one of the few times all the inhabitants of his shared student house were all in, present and correct at the same time. He can't recall the last time that has happened, so they all clubbed together and got 5 of the big bottles of Lambrini! Oh the reckless abandonment of the youth of the day I thought as I read the last text, anyway, Jake was seeking more adult company, or rather, he needs some washing to be done, so plans are afoot for him to make an appearance at Shaw Towers at around 8pm.

My mood buoyed by the promise of spending leisure time with Jake, I started smiling at the old lady sitting across from me on the number one bus, an act that obviously surprised her, as she promptly got up and moved three rows of seats forward! Is my smile that scary? Or is it simply that we've got so used to our insular in our own worlds and have a negative distrust of strangers that for someone to show us a happy greeting is so alien that we recoil away from it?

Now, as I sit at my PC, I wonder why I even bothered to venture into that strange and cold world on the side of what they call out? For I have thousands of electronic retailers at my fingertips all offering better deals that I could have gotten at PC World, had the shop assistants deemed it within the scope of their job function to actually assist!

Desperately Seeking??

(2026 Edit - This post was found in the archive, dated 12 November 2027 at 12:48. The images from this post have unfortunately been deleted.  I was living and working in Brighton during that time.)

Welcome to the Seafront Diaries, your insight into the lives of a small select Brighton boys and girls as we go about our daily lives. Think Sex And The City, but with boys and in the gaytropolis that is Brighton, oh and less make-up!

So there we were, David and I heading up to town on November 5th, ready to explore the big smoke. David is one of those happy, jolly, forty-something gay men who have a youthful passion for music, drama, divas, musicals and Starbucks. He's always fun to go out with, as well, to be honest, you're never sure where it will end, if indeed it does. (You can check out David's world on David's Daily Dramas!

!) Anyway, having taken the train to Victoria and then a number 38 to the end of the West, David suggested we head to my own citadel of casual fashion - the newly opened store of American casual kings - Abercrombie & Fitch! Now, call me Queen Silly of the Silly people if you wish, but I'm never one to miss out on a retail therapy opportunity. So without so much as a swish, we found ourselves walking through the mammoth doors of this new outlet of style. One of the first things that hits you as you enter is the grinning, shirtless hunk, who will have his picture taken with you if you so desire, then it's the loud and rather jolly camp music blasting at 80's club levels!

I was as happy as a pig in shit as we trounced the piles of neatly folded garments and set about picking out a few items for my purchase. It must be a requirement to be young, skinny, and stunningly good-looking to get a job in that place, as all the assistants were on the drop-dead side or gorgeous. One or two even cause that familiar waking sensation in the trouser department, especially as one of the sexier members asked, "Can I give you a squirt?" sadly, it wasn't a squirt of himself, but the latest Abercrombie fragrance that filled the air! Oh, I had such delight in the store, David less so as he carried my purchases around like an obedient little man servant, indeed, at the moment, I believe the world should have its own personal David! Not only did he carry my selections of casualness so my hands were free to grab, fondle and stroke other garments, he also advised on the suitability of said items upon my person. Oh, I loved that place, it's dark wood, it's homoerotic pictures, it's sexy staff, and the opportunity to purchase such delights, I damn near had multiple orgasms on the spot!

£150 later, we made our exit and headed off to The Admiral Duncan on Old Compton Street, the main drag of gay Soho. The AD, as you may know, was one kind of blown up a few years ago, and to be honest, nothing has happened since its little refurb in the intervening years. The dirty state of things didn't bother me by any stretch of imagination, for I had my classic Abercrombie bag and a smile as wide as the Humber!

Suitably refreshed, we headed over to The Dress Circle, a strange and utterly fab theatrical retail abode of a strange camp fellow who had a striking resemblance to a slim Amistead Maurpin. We dallied around for a little while picking up a glass of cava, looking at the various goodies, books, t-shirts, magazines and other items with a theatrical bent. I picked up a hot new Les Mis top with 24601 emblazoned across the chest. David picked up the tickets for the main reason we were in town - the show. We'd plunked up for Desperately Seeking Susan, the new music about the Madonna film, but with the music of Blondie - yeah, go figure.

The Novello Theatre along the Strand used to be called The Strand, surprisingly enough considering its location, and before that it was The Whitney (nothing to do with the Huston family, I hasten to add), and it started its life as the Waldorf! Amazing the things you can learn from the programme. So there we were, settled and refreshed and watching the musical of one of David's most cherished films, well, anything to do with the blonde one that is Madge, and our dear old David is smitten, hook, line and sinker!

It's a rather fast-moving show, lots of Blondie tracks, lots of singing, interspersed with drama, taking the story along. It was nice, it was good to hear the songs of Debbie Harry blasting out on a West End stage, but as a bit of theatre? Well lets just say that it wasn't only my bum that was numb by the time the safety curtain fell. Actually, the ending, the grand finale, was the best bit for me, the bit that I most enjoyed.

Anyways, it being a Monday in the big city, David and I headed back to The AD for a couple more until closing time. Now that did strike me as odd, down here in Brighton, the pubs very seldom have a set have a closing time, but in the big smoke that is London Town, they did. So we left the Duncan and took a bus and a train back to our Sussex By The Sea with a fringe on top that makes one feel right at home at once. You can take the girl out of Brighton, but you can't take Brighton outa the girl!

Now, I'm not sure whose idea it was, personally, I'm blaming David, but as soon as we'd placed my Abercrombie selections in the safe environment of my apartment, we headed down to Legends. Oh dear, the pints were sunk, and the drink was drunk, and I have no clue how it happened, but I was back at home making a three-egg omelette at 4.30am!

Did I feel bad the day after? You bet I did? Did I enjoy the night before? You bet I did; however, the later stages of the evening do escape my memory banks! As I said before, going out with David is always an adventure as one never knows how it's going to end, or indeed where!!!