Sunday, December 31, 2006

This Year I...

... said goodbye to my flat mate ... and hello to her again in Melbourne two weeks later ... saw Madam Butterfly at the Sydney Opera House ... jumped out of a plane at 14,000 feet ... swam the Great Barrier Reef ... trekked a rainforest ... accidently convinced a new friend I belonged to a cult ... wasted money on an upmarket dating agency ... made friends with my neighbours ... finally got to go to the Ivy, and found it overrated ... fullfilled an old resolution by finally joining an Am Dram group ... bought tap shoes ... got to see Idina Menzel soar on Opening Night ... read at my best friend's wedding ... mistook Beverley Knight for Beverley Knight ... partied all night for the first time in years ... hugged a 6ft 2" sailor ... sang at the Royal Albert Hall ...

... started a blog.

Happy New Year everyone. May 2007 bring many exciting new changes to your life!

Thursday, December 21, 2006


I've noticed over the last three months I've done some hardcore reflection on my life. I have to start writing some more flippant entries. You know, the ones that remind people how loud, mad and silly I am.

I need more observations about daily life. Those 'you never know what happened to me today' stories. You know, the ones people actually listen to, rather than the ones people nod to politely, as they try remember if they flushed the toilet before they left the house that morning.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

The Boys...

For all intents and purposes, I have never belonged to a group, a 'posse', a 'collective', a 'gang'. As far as I can remember, being the new boy at school sort of hindered that achievement in social climbing. But here I am, being referred to as one of 'The Boys' this week - namely Matt, Charlie, Murray and myself, the three dudes from Centre Stage who are always seen together apparently. Strange, as I never noticed it forming but obviously observers have picked up on it and decided to label us.

I've always whinged repeatedly I'm too straight for the gay world and too gay for the straight world, hence me never finding an intimate group of people to call my own. I've always had many one-to-one friendships, occasionally they know each other through random coincidences like work or university, but most of are definitely individual friendships I have cultivated over the years. It has been an intense few months, and perhaps my observations of new friends maybe short-lived and superficial, I sincerely hope not, but these past few weeks have been a strange learning curve when it has come to people and what makes a connection happen when it comes to 'making friends'. I've likened it to driving lessons. You can either learn to drive gradually over a period of months or years or go on a two week crash course and get your licence by the end of it. Joining Centre Stage put me through a similar assault course when it came to making new acquaintances. You learn very quickly who you like and even who you despise and can't stand the sight of. Those you do get on with, you get on with incredibly well and some have become as close as my existing long-term friendships. It all sounds terribly gushy and overly analytical to be making this point, but I have made great friends in Charlie, Murray and Matt and I hope it grows to become something I value greatly. Like most things, time will tell and this will probably be the only time I put it under the microscope.

It is a odd pleasure to be totally aware that you are 'bonding' with someone and they in turn, are also noticing it take place. That two or even three in this instance, disparate souls, who through a twist of fate and coincidence find themselves inhabiting the same living space and simply click into place. Perhaps this is quite a deep observation of three guys making friends with each other but as we said to each other week in a completely shit-faced, emotional state we're 'so glad we've met each other'. As you can imagine more hugs proceeded this 3am slurred conversation. Yes, I am effectively writing about getting pissed with your mates and telling them how much you love them, but if I went into further detail to why it meant so much, I'd probably lose the friends I have just gained.

I could have said becoming mates with Murray, Matt and Charlie has given me a warm glow inside but that would have made me sound like a Care Bear and requires less prose.

If I am on my tod again a few months time, sans 'The Boys' please of course skirt round the subject and never mention this entry to me again. On the otherhand things could be changing for the better and I do have a good track record of keeping friends, so I shouldn't be embarrassed by celebrating it.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Thank You...

I sat next to R&B pop sensation 'Thank you for the Bruises' Jamelia last night at the 'DEJA VU' Premiere. She talked all the way through it and when I offered her my unwanted complimentary popcorn, she gave me a look that suggested I might as well smother lard over her legs and call her Fatty McFat Fat.

Nice lady. Ironic for someone who named her Top 10 hit after a term for being polite.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Behind the curtain...

It's been a long time since I've written in this thing and for good reason. As you may know, this month was going to be pretty intense what with 'Anything Goes' rehearsals and it culminating with 'Show Time' last week. I could write all sorts about the experience, it has conjured up a lot of mixed emotions, mostly positive I must add, and it has shown me what sort of new things I am capable of. I have made some unexpected new friends, rediscovered my 'chest' and 'head' voice and have learnt that tap shoes are cheaper if you 'bulk buy' from a catalogue. It was incredibly important for me to do something for myself at this stage in my life, to find focus and to get away from the elements in my life that were grinding me down. Talking to the friends I have made in the cast now, I wasn't the only one feeling the same way about my life when I considered joining. Whether this makes me a cliche or not, or just plain normal, who cares. Truth be told, it worked, and I discovered a side to me that I had forgotten about a long time ago. As much as I like to perform to friends, I have certainly mellowed over the years, pruning that side of my flamboyant personality into something vaguely acceptable for 'day-to-day' society. Actors usually tend to let this side of themselves overgrow and flourish into every part of their lives, leaving themselves a tad self-centred and overtly dramatic most of the time but also acquiring a 'steamrolller' sense of total confidence and magnetic appeal I find admirable in some respects, especially as I think far too much about how I am perceived and worry over the actions I take. This show, has bought a lot of confidence and warmth of enthusiasm I seem to have lost years ago. The experience did however make me slightly bitchy again, luckily other cast members remarked they felt the same way. So I didn't feel too bad about this unwanted and new personality trait and I've made a conscious effort to suppress it.

The variety of new people who are now a part of my life is also quite remarkable. They really are from a different mould all together. I've been so lucky to have shared this part of my life with them. As I nursed my 'aftershow party' hangovers with a fellow co-cast member, he remarked how much the show had changed his life, given him a new found passion, something to think about outside work, that he no longer felt 'lost'. You can't help feeling totally beholden and in awe of that. Something so simple as an after work hobby could mean so much to someone. On reflection, it has undoubtably breathed new life into my stale routine too. The emotional and intense path has thrust some issues to the forefront of my subconsciousness, many of which I have failed to address for years. There is nothing like doing something that scares you, in order to beat your fears and build a sense of internal growth. Along with the eccentric personalities who have crossed my path, and without sounding cringeworthy, I hope I've made some true long term friends out of the show. Diva personalities and weirdos aside, there are definitely a select few, that over time, I can see, not only belting out a show tune with, but also laughing in a crowded bar at 3am or having a heart-to-heart with over a piece of badly made toast. The ever popular Charles is definitely one of them. He's surprised me in so many ways and he's probably not aware that over these past few months, he's taught me a lot of life lessons and shown me how to be focused and believe in yourself. I need to thank him for that.

So, onwards. Questions about 2007 and my future plans have drifted into my thoughts. I want to do 'Bat Boy', the next Centre Stage show. Again, it will take up a huge chunk of my life. I do have to think about seriously confirming my Australia plans in the new year. Life has thrown me an interesting curve ball, I just have to use it to its advantage now.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

For Siobhan & Chris...


Sooner or later we begin to understand that love is more
than verses on valentines and romance in the movies.
We begin to know that love is here and now,
real and true, the most important thing in our lives.

For love is the creator of our favourite memories
and the foundation of our fondest dreams.
Love is a promise that is always kept,
a fortune that can never be spent,
a seed that can flourish in even the most unlikely of places.

And this radiance that never fades,
this mysterious and magical joy, is the greatest treasure of all
- one known only by those who love.


It was a real honour for me to read this for you both on your special day.

Rich x

Saturday, November 04, 2006

24/7 Tap

We've sold out the entire run for Anything Goes! I am humming the tenor tunes for the main numbers whilst on the train platform every morning. I am tapping my trainers to the beat of the music under my desk at work. My mind wanders whilst talking to clients, as I begin to ponder what is my line after Moonface says "I'm a Missionary". Yes, the show is now fully engrained into my day-to-day life and I feel as though I can't escape the immaculately tailored clutches of Mr Cole Porter.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Charlie says....

You may remember me mentioning Charlie, the new boy in our Am Dram group for Anything Goes. I briefly mentioned him a while back. Well, I thought I'd mention him again, as I quite like mentioning him now to friends. Actually, everyone in the company keeps mentioning him. In fact, most of us know our markers for certain dance routines, simply based on knowing where we're standing in relation to where Charlie is. Yes, the ladies giggle and swoon as if they truly were 1920s flapper girls, all in awe of an incredibly charming environmental lawyer with boyish good looks who is apparently single, and well, actually straight! The gays amongst us, flirt, try and catch glances of his arms when the moment allows and resist trying to manhandle him in the wings.

I'm in the terrible, terrible, terrible position where most of the dance numbers have me holding his hand, or holding his waist, or having our arms linked, or in one scene, picked up and carried off by him. The director and choreographer obviously see the comic potential between the two of us with our extreme differences in height. Despite all this overblown cooing from all directions, I have to say, Charlie is a phenomenally nice guy. Cast the mop of thick jet black hair, cheeky eyebrows, chest like a bow of a ship and arms of Roman statuesque proportions aside - he's genuinely very sweet, very sincere and makes a conscious effort with everyone around him. I admire that, as I try and do the same. And we've now bonded. Well, I'd like to think we have.

He insists on being my partner at every opportunity, as if I am some font of knowledge concerning all things am dram and has even asked to meet up outside of rehearsals to practise even more. What is a boy to do? I suppose I must yield to his demands. What a cross to bear indeed, I hear you cry. It's terribly flattering as a performer to have such new found adoration from a colleague. I answered my phone late on Thursday night to discover it was Charlie on the other end, belting all the different song lyrics to 'Anything Goes'. This went on for about ten minutes. He was very chuffed with himself and wanted to tell me apparently and I just wanted to hug him for all his efforts.

Anyway, this was a very long note to really say "Here's a photo of Charlie, the good-lookin' one from my Am Dram group."

Thursday, October 19, 2006


A colleague of mine who works at See Tickets died last week of liver cancer after being diagnosed on the 22nd of September. He was 30 years old and about to marry his girlfriend. Cliched as it sounds, it does makes you think.

What are my priorities? Am I living to them? Here's to you Mr Downie and to drunkenly singing 'Popular' on the Number 3 Night Bus at 3am. My thoughts are with you and your family.

To respond to my sister's concerns that some of my entries on here have been solemn, (didn't you read my Beverley Knight story below - it's hilarious!) I hope that I have kept these entries as honest and as varied as possible. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you have to dive to catch it. Sometimes you're just all 'butter fingers' and drop the damn thing. And you curse yourself. I'm allowed to have those days. Just don't worry too much. I am a yo-yo of emotion. I do untangle myself in my own time. I just don't write about the untangling as much as I should. Yes, my love life can hang from a perilous thread sometimes. But show me a person whose romantic entanglements don't these days!

That's not a call to submit names of happy couples by the way, like Sting and Trudie Styler or Bert and Ernie.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Shudda said something else...

I went to my friend Shura's birthday party on Friday night with my friend Becky. We sat in Shepherds Bar. I, munching a packet of Walkers Sensations whilst Becky nibbled on a Cadbury's Boost. We were both starving and couldn't be arsed to buy the overpriced bar food. The bar itself, was owned by and in the same building as the company Endemol, the makers of Big Brother. It was full of 'medja' types and while we waited for Shura to turn up, we churned out our usual conversation, overlapping each other's tales, as we normally did, twitching in nervous anticipation, much like a pair of nervous lap dogs waiting to be petted by Barbara Cartland.

Two hours later, the party was in full swing and we found ourselves sat with Shura, who had embraced my gift of a vintage Swarovski bracelet with such abundant joy and passion that only she could give. Pleased I had become 'Present Giver Of The Year' once again, I sat back, relaxed and started talking to the collective of friends around me. Becky was being praised by a young black girl who exclaimed how beautiful Becky was, which to be fair, she is. She is quite the bohemian, tousled hair of feminine beauty and beads indeed - no matter what she thinks. An hour later, I found myself chatting to the same envious lady and felt compelled to tell her unequivocally, that despite thinking my friend was incredibly pretty, she herself was quite stunning too. "Oh no. I look rough as houses tonight." she protested. "Nonsense," I replied, "You look like fucking Beverley Knight for fuck sake!"

To which she replied "I am Beverley Knight."

Friday, October 06, 2006

Familiar Territory...

Once again, I find myself heading off into the sunset alone. Another layer of hope within has curled up and died after another 'interested' man decides he's not that interested after all. Yet the signals were there and I'm made to feel a bit of an idiot believing that they were somehow genuine. More than just a knock back, it is a sad repetitive pattern of how my dating process seems to never get past 'first base'. I'm not sure how much of my confidence, that I have spent the last few years building up, can take now. I realise I mustn't give up hope and I'm very proud of myself that I've come along way from the nervous, inept and totally inexperienced person I was several years ago, I do worry all that self-esteem building seems to be crumbling away, back to its original insecure form. I have to be careful, be strong and keep focused. It's been a while since I mentioned the guy I met at the party, and for good reasons too, I was keeping it to myself, trying to enjoy the moment without analysing every minute of it, like I always do. Close friends were obviously kept in the loop, those poor people had to listen to every cautionary tale of communication, every moment of self doubt and every whirl of excitement every time I heard from him. I was determined to 'play it cool' and be casual about it, as one is supposed to be in these situations. Fat lot of good that did me.

I realise people have their own agendas. I am dismayed how many people use email and and text to avoid face to face communication. Call me old fashioned but that is kind of cowardly and I appreciate even a phone call if meeting someone to discuss issues is too confrontational for some.

Bitch over. Back to single life and being a bit more selfish. Men. If they want me, they can come and claim me.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Getting Away...

I have returned from the family holiday relatively unscathed and surprisingly tired. My desire to sleep in over my 4 day break was thwarted by several sheep outside the farm cottage we were staying in and my parents habit of waking at the crack of dawn to potter round the open plan holiday home, which was a cross between a Von Trapp Family chalet and something young offenders use on 'day release'. To be fair, it was a refreshing change to be somewhere different and the fact the folks had gone to the effort to bring us together, what with my sister's dilemmas and our family unit being thrown across the world over the past year, it was comforting to see us all in the same room, eating together, all laughing about the same things, walking along the same bit of countryside or coastline. It's also a reminder how things never change even though many elements of your own life move on dramatically and change significantly. We get caught up with 'stuff' that a reminder of stability is quite unnerving in a way. I'm not sure if that's comforting or not to be honest.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Start typing...

"Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes, by Stephen King"Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes, by Stephen King

Honest. Clever. Simple.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Off to Brighton...

Will be heading off to Brighton next week to begin our family holiday in Rye. So I thought I'd add my favourite photo from my last trip to Brighton Pier.

Thursday, September 21, 2006


I have a huge desire to write something tonight but for the life of me have no idea as what to talk about. If I was to be brutally honest, life is in a bit of a stalemate at the moment and has been for quite some time now. Urges to change parts of my life since returning from Australia, setting new goals in motion have been met with irritating and unnecessary hurdles. I might as well be made of rubber and relentlessly throw myself against a big brick wall. I am terribly impatient, not one of my more redeeming qualities, I admit. If I looked back over the past seven months, there are things I should be proud of like taking part in Anything Goes, other things have more than niggled though, like securing a higher paid job in order to save towards Australia. This has been like forcing an elephant up a staircase. With just your index finger. I've been beaten down at every available moment by the industry I 'love', I find myself having advanced forward the length of a gnat's cock which is pitifully frustrating and a little draining to say the least. I know I'm not alone in thinking this about my job and it's far from being a original insight in this day and age, I'm just not convinced it should be this hard that's all. I wish I was more gutsy (and richer) to just go 'Fuck it. Why not.' and just go and face whatever consequences are out there. Alas, I am far too responsible and I'm sure my bank would have something to say about it too (although they would probably ask me for my postcode and third and last digits of my password before giving me their opinion).

On a change of subject, you may have remembered me talking about a party I went to in Clapham two weeks ago. I met a man. As you do. He was a very charming man. A very sexy man. I took a shine to him. I tried my hardest to remain cool and in control. I managed to escape, unscathed, with number of said man inside phone. A small victory for a small man with big confidence issues. You maybe wondering what's happened since then. Well, that was two weeks ago and very little has happened since. Okay, we have conversed on email and text briefly, (my two most loathed forms of communications when it comes to getting know someone new) things are progressing very slowly and time has cast its shadow of doubt over how 'into' me he really is. I must march forward with a smile though, be determined not to freak out and say something inappropriate or off-putting in his presence as I might as well start reaching through prison bars of my padded 'single' cell, gurning the words 'Please Love Me!' at anyone who happens to walk past. It's wonderfully attractive image and becoming of a young man my age, I know, although I sometimes think we should embrace these images of honesty that flash inside our heads. They make me laugh and tend to slap a bit of sense into my overly romanticised head.

I trundle on.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Ta Dah, it's wicked!

On my way home on Saturday night, and saw this poster site with the two favourite things I am looking forward to spending my hard-earned cash on next week. So much for saving money this month.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

An Open or Closed Book...

I have been criticised by some, that I have been quite open and candid on this blog. Have I? I'm not sure. It does make you ask questions, I suppose. I'm aware there is an element of risk, but on the otherhand, if you're not personal and intimate enough in a journal, it becomes dry and unreadable. There is the 'exposure' factor, that anyone could read your daily thoughts and use them against you, to judge you perhaps, but I'm finding it therapeutic in a way. Almost exhilarating, like pressing your foot down on the accelerator, when you know you're past the speed limit. It forces you to analyse your actions, your attitude, observe lifes bumps and grinds or jiggles of fun from another angle. I want people to know they're not alone in their neuroses and expectation of what life brings. We all desire a decent amount of happiness and luck once in a while as we go through daily dilemmas, it's what keeps life compelling and thought-provoking. I don't want to join the ranks of those bloggers who put up photographs of their cats, their collection of plastic buttons or men they they'd like to shag, but don't have the time to as they spend 24 hours a day scanning the internet for porn. I love the undiluted pleasure of writing. Those dormant creative muscles, being forced to warm up and stretch their literary legs a bit. Remembering that there are numerous words to be found and used to describe one's life, more so, than the proverbial terms of 'nice', 'boring' and 'okay'. One of my close friends, who is a far greater writer than myself, exclaimed that she couldn't write about her life as it would be a bit dull, I don't believe her. We all have stories to tell and within them, we find allegories, lessons to be shared and jokes to pass on.

Through this reflection, we find our potential, our boundaries, our lust that drives us forward and sometimes mad. The disgraced author James Frey said in this weeks Guardian interview, that we live in a fast world, we think fast and everything has to happen now. Not a new observation I know, but not enough of us do take the time out to reflect, to stop, sit back and breathe in what has just happened to us. The paranoia of the 'now' grasps many of us by the throat and usually its our own hands which are strangling us. Will we be the generation that had everything available to them, but never took the time to stop and truly embrace it? We constantly look for future happiness and never think about whether it's in the palm of hand already or literally round the corner from us all along. I will stop this diatribe now, in fear I will come across as bleak or morbid, which I'm not - just having a very profound moment that's all. I do think it is important to take stock and cherish what we have though. I whinged about being nice and so dependable a few weeks ago, as it never seems to get me anywhere. Only to receive a letter the next day from my dearest godmother in hospital, who wrote me a simple line of praise saying, 'I love you for many things - one very special one being your constancy'.

Life is hard; especially when you go through it resisting the 'norm', in order to keep the faith, to retain a sense of identity and worth. It's so easy to take the simple, hassle-free route in life. Follow the herd. Get swept away by the current trend. I've always believed if doing the right thing was the easiest thing to do, then we'd all be wearing halos. Sometimes, you do lose the fight and it occasionally makes you want to give up your cause. Yet this obstinant determination does have its rewards. Especially, when the braver friends and strangers around you, notice what you do and what you believe in. I thank those and admire them for their resolve, especially my godmother Jean for recognising those qualities within me at a time I wanted to simply give up, while she faces much more unimaginable challenges.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Suppressing my Woody...

I don't blame this man personally. It's just the collection of analytical neuroses he represents. I have many Woody Allen instances, a characteristic that has almost become less of a trait of mine and more an hourly buzzing inside my head. So much so, my friends describe it as having one of my 'Woody Allen Moments'. This is me, to those who know me well. The apprehension of success in anything - whether it be work, love or whatever, comes under the gaze of this Jewish auteur sitting inside my head. As if he's mentally typing out another one of his 'not so good as Annie Hall but better than Match Point' scripts on a miniature typewriter inside my cranium. He comes into his own when it comes to men though, especially men who give me any form of attention which has the possibility of it going somewhere. This is when I analyse the communication between myself and the guy so much, it sucks all the joy and fun out of meeting them and it becomes a slowly collapsing souffle of a date or potential relationship. Sometimes, it doesn't even get that far. It goes almost like this:

"Hello, I'm Richard."
"Hi there, nice to meet you."

Cut to internal Allen voice:

"What does he mean by that? He must hate me, I'm fool, why couldn't I have been nonchalant and aloof like everybody else and just say 'Hi'! Whats the point of carrying on? It'll end in tears!"

Okay, that was an extreme - but you get my point. Back to the situation in hand. I should be enjoying the fact I have actually heard back from the guy I met on Saturday night - a reply to a text I promised to send him on Monday. It was a brief response, I admit and not as long as I would have liked, especially after the witty prose I put together in order to say, "Hi it's me. Remember me." Unfortunately, this has woken Mr Allen from the depths of my thoughts and I really don't want his input on this one. Despite Woody's presence, I have reminded myself that on the whole - it is good news. I should allow myself to relish this for a moment and bask in the glory of the minor achievement of 'first contact'. Woody is tapping my shoulder though. Woody is asking me to reread the text a hundred times and my initial text to him and ask "Why hasn't he agreed to seeing you again yet, why was it so short and vague?" I hate Woody at the moment as you can imagine, as I vowed to play it cool with this one. A guy I've met through coincidence, in person and without having to type a username and password first. Woody is the number one reason I am probably single and why men tend to run away from me, like children being invited into Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch. So I have filed a mental restraining order on him. Not Michael Jackson. Woody. This is really hard, as Woody keeps pressing his haggard old face and thick spectacles against the glass wall of my conscience, mouthing words of defence and giving me sad, apologetic looks that the real Woody Allen probably makes for writing Melinda & Melinda. I keep wanting to take pity on him and let him back into my mind, I know full well if I do, he will damage this one chance of fun and adventure I'm having with a guy who made me laugh on Saturday night in a room full of drunk strangers. A man, who believe it or not, was funnier than me, who made me truly laugh and made me want to spend time getting to know him a bit more.

Woody must not win. Gut feelings must prevail.

Monday, September 11, 2006

"You're a 'Glass Half Full Man' aren't you?"

You find yourself in the most uncomfortable of circumstances sometimes, in which there is no one to blame but yourself for being in that situation; as you have put these factors into motion, you have made the decision, you have forced yourself to go through with it. No one to berate and no one to curse. You verses a potential armada of affliction to wade through. I found myself on Saturday night, reliving this predicament as I walked to Colonel Henge's House Warming Party. I knew no one there, I didn't even really know him, having spoken only on the phone and online. It was to be our first introduction after a series of cancelled meetings. No longer a date, just friends, who happened to help each other out. I was keen to go, just to say thank you for putting me in touch with the Amateur Dramatics company I've just joined and to meet his friend, Dan whose also a member of Centre Stage. I walked down the street towards his house in trepidation, clutching my bottle of M&S Rose like a stress relieving device and tried to supress the anxious thoughts whirring round in my head. After arriving at the door and finding myself giving silent nods of recognition at two girls who had also rocked up for the party, I took deep stifled breaths and wondered if it was wasn't too late to just run down the stairs and escape into the ether of Clapham High St and head back home. I think Henge was surprised to see me, he was charming, funny, polite as he seemed on the phone and online but also far better looking than I imagined. A tad annoying, knowing it would probably make things even more strained for me. He welcomed me warmly and I may have been paranoid, swore he threw a shocked glance at his fellow housemate, as if they had assumed I wouldn't turn up at all. Still, I smiled and continued to put on the charm offensive and made my usual introductory jokes. A few sank faster than a tanker full of lead elephants, I continued however not to let this get to me. I then met his new boyfriend, Richard and wondered again, what the hell I was doing here with a bunch of happy, intimate strangers. These new forays are either a great choice to make or just 'hell on earth on a Saturday night' and I was beginning to think I had make a mistake coming but a few more people rocked up and and the flurry of 'hellos' eased the situation. Then I started chatting to a guy who like me, knew nobody except one of the hosts. I don't want to write too much more now, as what happened next was unexpected and essentially made my night, but to cut a potentially long and over analytical story short, (in case the fates are watching and want to continue their cruel torture) I met an incredibly, lovely guy. Really lovely. A naff description perhaps, but apart from not being willing to divulge anymore in case it doesn't go any further, he was simply lovely. We talked to each other all night and 'got on'. Was it anything more than just friendly banter? Who knows. I'm hoping it might be. We did swap numbers. So, we shall see if any comes of it or not.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, as cliched as it sounds, is that you just never know. I hope Buddha is smiling affectionately now. I feel as though I deserve it.

Friday, September 08, 2006


This is a truck, in the woods behind my Aunt, Alex's house in West Virginia. I took this picture ages ago, it now hangs up above my television, reminding me of how much I loved spending time with Alex. An incredibly inspirational woman and I learnt a lot of life lessons, while I was with her. I will always be indebted to her for that.

Sunday, September 03, 2006


It's official. I am too nice. I join the ranks of Mother Theresa, Jesus and Dame Joan Plowright. Not normally seen as fault a few hundred years ago, it was probably even seen as a quality to be sought after, but now in this cynical, hard-edged, reality TV sludge of an age, it's not so cool. It's wrong. People don't want 'nice' anymore. Perhaps I am just slow on the mark. It's not sexy, or cute and apparently it won't help you get what you want. Over the last few years people have been telling me to not be so 'nice'. I ignored them. Actually, I find it incapable of being 'not nice'. Now people who hardly know me are telling me to not be so nice. Not their fault, they pick up on it. Alarm bells kick in, my conscience huddles into the air raid shelter of my thoughts. I find myself being nice to arseholes who let me down. Yes, what is that all about, indeed? Much like a hamster in a wheel, I can't seem to stop myself from being courteous and understanding, I just keep doing it instinctively. I have to get angry. Annoyed. Vexed. Pissed off a lot more. (And yes, I've been using my new Thesaurus.) If I can achieve the status of being called a 'Right C*nt', perhaps only then will things start going my way. Shame really, as nice is pretty well, 'nice' most of the time.

Friday, September 01, 2006

She'll never find it...

See, I'm having a cynical day today. I think the dog has run away as it's embarrassed by the fact their owner is called Babette. Or it's just a very, clever fly-poster for a new indie band.

Two Left Feet

I think too much. This is a well known fact amongst people who know me. My friend Becky describes it as when I have one of my 'Woody Allen' moments. It's just the way I am, I can't relax or enjoy myself half the time, as I'm ruminating over what could happen next, with a leaning towards the 'glass half empty' most of time. To most, I project a persona of enthusiasm and 'glass half full' but my close friends know I fret and fidget. Much like a graceful swan paddling furiously with his big webbed feet, so he doesn't get dragged into the current of the river.

I can't think for the life of me what to write about tonight. A cancelled date has thrown me into a bit of a melancholy this evening, well it wasn't a date, I was just looking forward to meeting someone new who I have a bit in common with thats all. I'd rather not project all woes onto my blog tonight though. I did have a great time yesterday at Centre Stage, doing the first dance rehearsal for the show. Bugger, there's a lot to learn. We had a new boy start called Charlie, but more about him later when there's something to tell. Needless to say, half of us melted like a tub of margarine left on window sill when he walked in. At 6ft 4", I think I'll just admire him from a distance for now. The photo is of my view from my bed. It's like having a live picture frame to think right through into infinity.

Or it could just be a Velux window.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

I had a date last night, with lovely young guy through It almost never happened, as five minutes before he was meant to leave to meet me, he accidently stabbed himself with a kitchen knife. I started wondering if there's a distinct possibility I'm meant to be worshipping some Polynesian Tikki God of 'Dating' somewhere or perhaps I'd wronged a someone, somewhere, at some point in a former life maybe. Would a guy resort to stabbing themselves in order to get out of a date with me? Guys have made weaker excuses before, I thought.

Luckily, he turned up; bandaged and apologetic. We joked about it and told him my last date had slit his throat. I forgave him, mostly as he was really cute and incredibly funny in a northern 'Wai Yup' sort of way. Turned out, I was his first ever date with a guy, having only come out three months ago. Poor guy found it all a bit overwhelming I think. Told him, I'd been in his shoes before and not to be so hard on himself and he semed to enjoy our night out. He has a friend in me if he wants it at least.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

She lives in a House...

My sister has a new house. A very nice house. Smack bang in the middle of Brighton. Next to everything. It has a patio garden. Wooden floorboards. And a white gate to enter it.

I covet this. Badly.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Everybody needs good neighbours...

I promised myself I wouldn't be one of those bloggers that post up annoying photos of themselves partying all the time with their friends but this one has relevance. If you live in London, or any major city for that matter, but especialy in uptight Britain - where a smile on the Underground to a complete stranger can signify a desire to kill, terrorise, stalk or at least invade someone's personally space quite rudely - you will know that NO ONE speaks to their neighbours. Well I do. I met mine at a party in the West End of all places. After talking about where we lived, we freaked out at discovering we actually are 'nextdoor neighbours'. Since then Sarah, Jerome and Lindsey have now been my local friends as well as neighbours. Yes, you may coo with delight now. We basically get quite drunk together to cut a long story short. In another 'Elton John - Circle of Life' tale, Lindsey's boyfriend Adj is in a band called Kubb, who I met last year at a television recording of Later with Jools Holland. Yes, a small world indeed. Yet these strange coincidences make up up most of my life on a daily basis. I do not lie, ask any of my friends. I obviously know far too many people. Oh rah! How pretentious does that make me now?

Moving swiftly on.

Friday, August 25, 2006

In Olden Days...

Well, I auditioned for an Amateur Dramatics Society production of Anything Goes on Tuesday. Not sure if they felt sorry for me or if they just desperately need more boys, but they've offered me a part in the Chorus. Based on the audition, I am amazed by this. I believe 'rusty' was the word that sprang to mind as I tried to mimmick the dance routine and mumble my way through a score I was as vaguely familiar with. I got frowns from individuals who obviously thought I wasn't taking it very seriously. Remarks like "I've been doing this for 13 years now, a marvellous way to pass time" and "I've only done the Grosvenor Light Operatic Society, this sounded like something easier and less demanding" were probably designed to put me in my place. But hey, like that was going to discourage me in making a complete tit out of myself. I am truly grateful of 'Colonel Henge' for letting me know about this last minute and I'm making it up to him later this week by getting him a place running for Whizz-Kidz for next year's London Marathon, who are a client of mine.

First dance rehearsal is apparently next Weds. "How spiffing!" as Lord Evelyn would say.

Thursday, August 24, 2006


I heard the best line at work today from my client, when he was describing how ugly his old assistant was:

"About as attractive as an old 'Chupa Chup' lolly found underneath a greasy oven."

Will go into my mental rollerdex of phrases to use on someone one day.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

A Soldier Polishing His Cannon...

Back in June for the Queen's Official Birthday, the BBC News website released a series of photos of the Horsemen at Buckingham Palace preparing for the parade. I expected lots of gold trimmings and shots of brushing horse hair but was pleasantly surprised when this was the main photo. If there's ever an advertisement to retain the monarchy to keep people like him in service, then I'm all for HRH. I think my point of my post today was to say, I was born on the week of her Silver Jubilee and apparently she gave my parents a year's supply of nappies. I have no idea if that story is true but if it isn't, you can just look at the man polishing his cannon again.

Monday, August 21, 2006

My 'Wicked' side in full view...

Those who know me, know I don't do 'gay' very well, admittedly I can have my moments but most of the time I lead a pretty 'straight' life. And I'm fine with that and will probably continue to do so for the rest of my life. As a rebel of conformity, I hate stereotypes and growing up as a short-arse, mixed-race, speccy-foured-eyed homo has probably helped that. Defining my life through my sexuality makes about as much sense to me as defining it by my hair colour or choice in trainers (Adidas by the way). It has it's throwbacks, I've never fitted into the 'gay scene' that well and have been criticised by some of more 'intolerant' gay men out there (of which there are many) and have always felt like a beloved adopted child to my straight friends. The dating process and whole meeting guys thing has suffered a bit as a result, but I am addressing this and over the past few years grown in confidence knowing that I don't need to compromise my attitude and the things that make me feel comfortable in life to gain respect on both sides of the fence.

Every now and then though, I do get a bit gay and musicals are a bit of a thing for me. Ever since I was in a few productions at school in Germany, having to put on professional productions that would give the West End a run for it's money, I have gained a true love for it. Mostly, because it reminds me of when I was happiest as a teenager, rehearsing with friends, having such a laugh, and having lots of praise and attention at doing something I was really good at. So maybe it's more of a nostaglic thing than a 'homo' quirk. Whatever it is, and however people's attitude to my little musical crush is, I love them and I don't care. I love singing, and find myself singing certain 'show tunes' that reflect the many life situations all the time. One of the songs from Wicked! (the record-breaking, award-winning show from Broadway opening over here this month) I find myself singing a lot of these days, tragic it maybe, is 'I'm Not That Girl', a reflection on how many of my dates never work out with the guys I really like. (you may sigh and go 'Awwwhhh' if you want). Still, I am incredibly excited about seeing it for the first time after having bought the score last year,and know all the lyrics already, friends may laugh, a few joined in with my excitement too, via my influence and are joining me on the two performances I am going to (oh yes my friend you heard correctly, two performances!) Opening Night here I come. Okay it's in a few weeks time but I had to write something today, it's been so dull!

Sunday, August 20, 2006


And this is why I live in London. Nice for nature to remind you sometimes, when you've had a bad day.

Evening All...

One of those moments that makes you sigh with happiness. Taken in the park opposite my flat.

What would Jane say...

I was wondering if Blogs had been around years ago, what great writers like Jane Austen would say on their Blogs. Their efforts would have been far more spectacular and full of wonderful prose than ours. I decided to write my current situation, as if Austen herself was sitting at my laptop, namely wondering where her quill went first, but composing my own life entanglements using her inevitable style. Enjoy!

Dearest Marie-Anne,

Alas, to find oneself without a prospective advancement in earnings and career, is a vexation indeed. Fear not, if the fates allow, a position will no doubt arise at my final moment of disparagement. We can only live in hope as ladies, we have little knowledge of the complexities that take up a working gentleman's day and must be content with hours of reading, needle work and practicing piano forté. I remain enthused, though trying I know, remain confident in my faith that my decisions are made in good sted.

On to Meryton, where I have news of an abundant nature concerning certain members of the cavalry (online men of a homosexual nature) that have past into town and have caught my eye. After meeting a Mr Bartholemew last week at the Society of Friends drinking establishment, in the depths of Soho. He is of three and twenty years, a musician at the Royal Albert Hall none the less and comes from a wealthy family. He is probably worth at least ten thousand pounds a year, as he has a residence in South Kensington and Clapham. At first his demeanor and enthusiastic nature was charming and elicited many ruminations of how my beauty was 'cute' and that I was a 'sexy fella'. But after several conversations of a mobile variety, the situation has since changed dramatically and I am led to believe he is quite keen or 'really into me' as they say in the modern quarters. His communications have been frequent and the attention much cherished after my long spell of singledom, although the messages with this 'Xxxxxx' signed along each message is rather worrying. An overuse of consonants to the extreme. As you can imagine, I have been all of a bother regarding this situation, especially as he is quite handsome, a spectacular kisser and has also implied via the means of a visual text, the girth of his groin. This is quite spectacular to behold and some I believe have complimented on its beauty and size. Encouragement to seek a mere carnal nature from our next meeting is a temptation to say the least and 'hard' to resist. He is a true fellow and I am enjoying his company for now.

On to Mr Masonry, a resident of East Dulwich and a lawyer at that. A short, well built man of two and thirty years. He is of a fine face, although a little reserved in his speech and keeps conversation to the essential matters in hand. This has not greatly inspired me and over the past weeks he has postponed our engagement no less than three times. On one occasion, canceling our meeting to accept a delivery of chairs from John Lewis, Purveyors of Fine Furniture. We have meet upon two occasions and they have been perfectly charming, enjoying my wit and flirtations, yet has remained obscure in his decisions about me I feel. His enthusiasm to watch the moving picture 'Brokeback Mountain' every week, in order to reminisce his previous partner, leads me to believe, he may not be over his last love.

As always my dearest Marie-Anne, I have saved the best story till last. For over a month, I had been conversing most eloquently with a young gentlemen called Colonel Henge, he works in Housing. He is such a fine figure of a man and is of six and twenty years of age and resides in Clapham after just purchasing a small maisonette. He stands five feet and ten inches tall and carries full head of blonde hair. His pictures are very becoming and he had responded well to mine. When I first laid eyes on his profile, I mused that he was far too handsome to even consider responding to a message from my mere self. But he expressed much humour, a passion for penguins, a love of literature and film including 'The Muppets Christmas Carol' and 'Sense & Sensibility' (which I believe is based on a family situation near here). He had received a dictionary and thesaurus for his birthday, uncanny as I have received such birthday gifts. Our familiar passions and items in common have made me believe he is quite the genuine sort indeed. We spent much correspondence over the last few weeks and this has elicited a most charming rapport, he is both polite and full of questions about myself as well as answering my own queries about his credentials. This natural conversation had been most unexpected and was most assuring pertaining it's future possibilities. So much so, I suggested an official dinner engagement on the Friday, to which he responded with much enthusiasm and vigor. Yet alas, the ease of this situation was brought to an abrupt halt, after Colonel Henge had in fact met another gentleman since the agreement of dinner arrangement and had decided to pursue this assignation and not mine. I was bought this news of his decision by carriageless letter only two days prior to the soiree and as you can imagine, was most disappointed by the news. So much so, I may have over reacted somewhat and burned all his correspondence in a fit of melancholy. I was taken aback by receiving further correspondence from Colonel Henge, informing me despite the change in situation, he found me a fine fellow indeed, impressed by my love of musicals and honest nature and worthy of friendship at least. For this I am glad.

My daily chores have become tiresome and I have decided to seek fortunes in another place, namely the country of Australia by this time next year after much deliberation about my future and goals. I have been making long, hard decisions about what is important in my life and what I would like to achieve. See, my dear Marie-Anne, I too have face much drama these last few months. Alas, I must remain positive and thankful of the achievements I do possess and the love of friends like you around me.

To when we dine at Pemberly again. I must go forth and find my Darcy.


x Emily x

It begins Oh Buddha of mine...

So I have a Blog. How cutting edge of me.

How scary in fact. The idea of any stranger reading my daily thoughts puts me off, if truth be told. Lawsuits of people being fired from their jobs because they moaned about their unruly boss or having posed in a raunchy photograph wearing their company's uniform springs to mind. (I believe it was an air stewardess or something, how man-made fibre in Easyjet colours can be made too look sexy is beyond me.)

I shall therefore be sensible. Use pseudonyms to protect those who I may embarrass, which I will no doubt reveal in a fit of anger if they wind me up something chronic. It will be about me, naturally. A way of keeping my writing skills up to date and in practice. The long term goals of writing a book have been so poorly executed and I have no one else to blame apart from myself. So many ideas, so little time, so little drive after working all day. So many excuses not to actually write. So lame. So pathetic. And therefore, so not going to have a novel under my belt by the age of 30. This will be like stretching the muscles before a work out, I hope.

I have also been asked to write about my life and tales of dating boys, having caused much amusement to many friends over the years. Not sure if that is tragic or a reason to celebrate how varied and ridiculous my life gets. I have old tales that are out of date by now, but will no doubt reminisce on these,when the opportunity arises.

So, I write this. Will it last? Will it be a distraction? Will it bore people livid? Who knows, only time will tell.

I've noticed I've posed a lot of questions in my first blog post. I'm not normally like that.

Well, maybe I am.

The Laughing Buddha Looks On...

The Buddha himself. Sage. Sympathiser. Supporter. Onlooker, champion and general piss taker of my humble life. How his laugh mocks and comforts me so.