Liverpool

Liverpool has changed. It is more run down than ever and the new build seems cramped and shadows the alleyways. It has had it's heart taken away.  But the Walker Art Gallery had an excellent exhibition of attitudes to death. I am always more interested in the arty boys who visit galleries than the boy's art on the walls!  Then to The Library, the old Victorian shell inside a state of the art modernisation. Really liked the viewing platform with the liver birds in the distance. Paddy's Wig Wam (the Catholic Cathedral) where I was a best man! Back home now for tea before we head of to Clwyd for dinner and theatre.

Weird Dream

A restless night's sleep because I fall asleep anxious that I have to pack and catch a train to Liverpool in the morning only to wake up and realise it's not until after noon.  But the bonus is a very vivid dream I remember. A religious choir who decide whether someone should be accepted Gay or not and allowed to come out or not! A sort of Gay Logan's Run.

My friend, who is not out in real life to his family, is ushered forward and the choir burst into a beautifully harmonised acceptance song. No idea what the song was. I am standing next to him worried about the impact the result may have on him but I need not worry as he's safe.  A blond soloist with a beaming smile and blonde straggly goatee like gold thread in sunbeams sings out loud and the choir rise and fall with him.  I realise the choir is made up of some of the Gay guys who have been accepted and joined.  The choir is ecstatic.

As the choir disperse, a punky boy walks towards me. Expensive, scruffy style. A tweed jacket with ragged cuffs and worn velvet elbow pads. A public school, country boy renegade?  Black spiky hair, an expensive cut made to look naturally unkempt. Black stubble on a square jaw. Pale milky skin against his coal black hair and iron stubble. Blue, wet eyes intelligent with long thick lashes. Nipples pierced too little metal bumps under his shirt. Hands in pockets flicking his cock, his belt loose and the line of his pants visible. A punk who wears a global brand like Calvin Klein? Mala beads round his neck and hanging between a strong chest. Very comfortable in his skin and no fear of being discovered to be deliberately provocative. Muddy boots and a ten to two strutting gait.  He gently pulls my hip toward him as he leans forward and whispers in my ear...

Sarah's Blog

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A Good Life

When traffic-free, calm Monday nights are like Sunday nights you know it's a Bank Holiday! My turn after a day at work to unwind with a crisp, cold white wine. Love those boxes of never ending nectar but not when you squeeze out the last dregs like urine from a colostomy bag! Well, it all comes out the same way in the end. A great holiday in Northumberland, Newcastle and London. Invitations to France and Spain make it even more rewarding. I met up with close friends I haven't seen in months. I have been in hibernation but am now getting my life back into sharp focus after a frozen year of anxiety and confusion. I am finding purpose again and confidence. Not least my humour which was bruised and flattened. I return to Ely with a new perspective and do not feel so trapped and unmotivated. I have never thought I am badly off, in fact I am very fortunate and life my life on my terms. It is the love and support of family and friends who allow this. Who look after me and encourage me. Who contribute to the parts of me that make up my personality and character. Life is back in all its visceral vitality and vigour.

It's a cool morning warming up in Maida Vale, London.  Banana yellow against a turquoise sky. I drank too much champagne yesterday.  I rather enjoyed the decadence of drinking it in the landrover to Portabella Road but coukd not stay awake at dinner and champagne revenge is here with a vengeance - farts!.  I slept fitfully.  London makes me alive. So many people to look at. I get excited by the number of eligible dates and hook ups that make it so easy to feel satisfied one is doing something!

Is it me or are seats just always uncomfortable? At the cinema seeing the not Great Gatsby and heading South. The train in last night was delayed and my bum cheeks from ripe apricots to flattened boiled eggs. I hate delays. You count down and then have to count some more and that's frustrating.

Yesterday I had a lot of time to chew the cud on the train. I think there is wiring in us to push for change and shape opportunity when in fact the change happens naturally and we dance with opportunity quite happily with little need to force it and just go with it when it comes along. Maybe we do look too hard and miss the subtlety. Life is finding, letting go. Pain and disappointment dealt with. Frustration got rid of.  And arching over all of that trust - trust of yourself and trust in and from others.

Walking through Newcastle this afternoon for the last time in a few weeks, walked past the Duke of Northumberland pub (it's next to Tesco) and glanced at the regulars who frequent that watering hole. A motley bunch of bubble faced, salmon pink, woodbine sucking, squinty-eyed lizards.

Welcome to the first day of my blog