A brace of birthdays

So this is about 2 weeks too late, but I suppose late blogging is bettter than no blogging. We had the lovely Matthew's birthday dinner at Tamesa the other night, then we went roller skating. Tres retro. I am not sure, but I think Matthew might be gay. Paul certainly hopes so.



Then the Saturday before last (yep, get your Kylie/Aussie Rules footballers calendars out to figure out which Saturday), we had Don's birthday - complete with Brazilian waiting staff. I thought they melded into the crowd quite well in their roman slave outfits. Not that I noticed them.






We've also seen some films! And they were both French (see - I can do highbrow, too!). The first was 'Tell No One (Ne le dis à person)', which I really enjoyed. It was different to see a non-hollywood action/thriller. It must have been good because Paul attempted to exceed his 3-question quota ('Why is he doing that?' etc etc). I wasn't having any of it though. If you let them exceed it once, they'll only try to raise to four and before you know it, you'll find yourself with a 7-question limit at movies. I gave it 8.5/10.

The very next night (two films in two nights, imgaine how much we spent on popcorn, enough to buy a small flat in Melbourne!), we saw 'La Vie en Rose' (apparently so good, it doesn't need to an English translation for it's title). I didn't really rate it, (6.5/10,purely for the acting of Marion Cottilard), but it was worth it for 'Non, je ne regrette rien'. It's a song that unfortunately will forever be associated with a Nescafe ad in Australia for me, but it's still fantastic. I remember studying the lyrics in my short-lived french classes. Here they are (thanks to this) and apologies for the apalling layout. Heres a clip of Edith Piaf singing it live:

Non, je ne regrette rien

Non, rien de rien Non, je ne regrette rien Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal Tout ca m'est bien egal Non, rien de rien Non, je ne regrette rien C'est paye, balaye, oublie Je me fous du passe Avec mes souvenirs J'ai allume le feu Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux Balayes les amours Et tous leurs tremolos Balayes pour toujours Je repars a zero Non, rien de rien Non, je ne regrette rien Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal Tout ca m'est bien egal Non, rien de rien Non, je ne regrette rien Car ma vie, car mes joies Aujourd'hui, ca commence avec toi

No, nothing. No, I regret nothing. Neither the good done to me, nor the bad; to me, they're all the same. No, nothing at all. No, I regret nothing. It's all paid for, swept away, forgotten; I don't care about the past. With my memories, I've lit a fire. My sorrows, my pleasures, I need them no more. Swept away are my loves and all their tremors. Swept away forever. I start from scratch. No, nothing really. No, I have no regrets. Neither the good done to me, nor the bad; to me, they're all the same. No, nothing. No, I regret nothing. Because my life, because my joys, today, begin with you.

And then this Saturday we saw Shrek 3 - it managed to keep my attention for the length of the film, and the kids seemed to like it. I'd give it a 7/10. We saw it in Ipswich, which provided possibly the best argument I've seen so far against first cousins marrying.

Really?

So London is the second most expensive city on the planet after Moscow?

No way! Not with a one-way tube-ride costing a mere £4?

Next they'll be telling us the Earth revolves around the Sun.

After something free?

Try the free films at the Pool of London - take picnic (and some booze!) and watch a film - it's a great night out. (It could even be made a 'Summer of Food ^{(tm reg)}' official event. We've been the last couple of years (last year to see 'Caberet'). Red Ken is putting on some excellent films, like 'Volver', 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' . What's not to like about those?

See, I've saved you money already.......

It still remains with me

Bad blogger. I think - not much of note happened last week - or did it? It all seems to be work at the moment. I'm trying hard to figure out who's on the side of the forces of good in the new office and trying to keep everyone one side. I'm not entirely sure how if it's working at all, but I seem to be keeping my new boss happy, and he's the one who hands out pay rises, so here's hoping.

Last week seemed to be full of emails exhanging photos from Iz's birthday weekend. Mine are here. It was a lovely weekend, full of good food, lots of beer and wine, and nice people. Sperlonga was an excellent choice. The old town is closed to traffic, and the hotel was right in the centre of it all. Paul and I hadn't seen Harold and Sophie and Jean for ages, so we had a good catch up and we finally got to see Steve's house in Gaeta. I seemed to spend a large proportion of the weekend playing beach tennis with H and Sophie's boys, which was good fun. They are really nice kids, no tantrums or whining at all.

Iz and I went shopping in the Rome's Centro Storico Monday morning , ostensibly to find me a birthday present from the Romans. I had decided on a man-bag, so we spent the morning checking out stores around the Spanish Steps and Via Condotti. We didn't have much luck though, as I wasn't able to find the bag I wanted. I was a bit worried that Iz might have thought I was the world's fussiest shopper, but she probably knew that already. And it was nice to have her all to myself for the morning.

A few observations about Rome (or things I'd forgotten since living there):

• Unfeasibly attractive shop assistants!! But I still didn't buy anything.


• They've cleaned the turtle fountain - it used to be so grotty and grey!!


• If we ever go back to live, I'd stack on the weight again - the food is just too good.


• I'd forgotten that heat and how nice it is to be able to go to the beach.


• It's just so beautiful

The rest of the week was spent freezing in the cold snap - my winter coat even made a reappearance. Mitch and Susie arrived back from Scotland and Amsterdam on Saturday. Paul and I went shopping and managed to find a manbag that met all criteria in Selfridges. We then caught up with Damien and Mark to see Jindabyne. I love Laura Linney. And she and Gabriel Byrne were outstanding. And the movie was very good (as you asked, 8.8/10). But it made me (and Damien) homesick. The birdsong. The bush. The laconic humour. It was very haunting and beautiful.

While we were watching that Mitch and Susie were watching 'The Lady from Dubuque', with Dame Maggie Smith (insert comment about national treasure/living legend here). Paul and I had seen it couple of months ago. I found it difficult to engage with, but Maggie Smith was excellent. Mitch and Susie really enjoyed it and then met us afterwards for a drink at The Edge. Which now has gogo boys on a Saturday night. How embarassment. We also saw our first fight (well - a bit of agressiveness and pushing, that's a fight for gay men) in a gay bar ever. Imagine.

Sunday I pumped up the bike tyres (Paul had to go to the shop to do his) and we cycled over to the ponds at Highgate for swim. It was lovely lying in the sun, but I believe it gave me a mild dose of hayfever. And I still hate swimming in that brackish water. I always think I'm going to get some weird stomach bug and die from internal bleeding.

Monday night Michael and Susie took us around the corner for dinner. It was so much fun seeing them again. Michael is such a nice guy.

I guess it's pretty lucky neither of us is rich, huh?

Last Wednesday I met Paul and Damien at Barrafina in Soho. after I’d got back from Strasbourg. It has been getting great reviews and it was excellent - outstanding tapas, good wine and good service. I liked the fact Paul and Damien had to do the hour-long wait in the queue without me. I’d definitely go back and highly recommend it. It’s run by the people who run Fino in ‘Fitzrovia’, but is more of a tapas bar than restauarant, with a very long bar that you sit at to eat. All very Spanish.

So Spanish in fact, that the guy who sat down next to us felt the need to demonstrate his prowess with Castilian, and was chatting to the owner off and on. After a while he said ‘Excuse me, what are razor clams again?’. The owner picked one up from the bed of ice to show him. ‘Oh no, I know what a razor clam is. I meant I’ve forgotten how to say it in Spanish’. What’s Spanish for wanker?

After Barrafina, we went to see Dame Judi and ‘Our Cate’ in ‘Notes from a Scandal’. It was excellent, and funny in an odd way. ‘You sent her fiancé a wreath!!!’. As if. It was refreshing to see older lesbians portrayed in such a glamorous light, too. (After , ‘La Tournese de Pages’, this was our second lesbian-themed movie under a month – they’re like buses you know – you wait forever for one, then two come along at once. Boom boom.) Both Dame Judi and Cate had great roles. I’d give it an 8.8/10, despite the fact I heard some people moaning about Cate Blanchett’s accent when we were leaving. Please.



Most of our weekend was spent inhaling solvent-based paint fumes, while we finished off painting the window and skirting boards in the bedroom. We know how to have fun! Paul and I took a break Saturday night to go to a friend’s Titanic-themed birthday party on the Thames. Poor taste? Who’s to say? It was a good party and we made some new friends (we had to – we didn’t know anyone else there). We resisted the siren-song of Vauxhall clubs at 2am and called it a day.

Sunday night Paul surprised me and took me here to see this. .(Incidentally, Paul's brother Lee is in the video for the song, by the band Deep Blue). It was very sweet of him. I was trying to guess all the way where we were going, but had no ideaThe hotel has a Sunday night film club which is pretty good value. The idea is you have a three-course meal and then go downstairs to watch the movie – very civilised. The Charlotte Street Hotel is pretty cool – not uber-designer-cool, but very relaxed and comfortable cool. Good food and service too. The staff seemed to be all Hispanic as well - ‘What London was like in the good old days’, someone remarked.

It’s Always Christmas in the West End.

Last Thursday I met Stuie for a quick drink in London’s bohemian Soho after work – and the walk for me from my new office at Great Portland St to Soho was less than 20 minutes! What’s not to like about that! Paul and I were going to Avenue Q, (tix a Christmas gift from Stuie) – so when Paul joined us we went to Browns (haunt of Alistair Appleton and that girl from the Sound of Music) to take advantage of their pre-theatre menu.

Avenue Q was good fun – not as rude or subversive as it’s been made out to be, but we both enjoyed it anyway. I was surprised Paul said he’d go again, but he’s entitled to his own opinion (generally) - I’d give it a 7.8/10. There were some good songs (that’s funny good, not catchy tunes), like “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, “The Internet is for Porn” and 'The More You Ruv Someone (the More You Want to Kill Them)', but at times it was a bit like watching an adult ‘Sesame Street’.

Friday night I was out drinking again as Paul had his work Christmas party. I could have stayed in I suppose, but where's the fun in that? I met up with Stuie, but the drinks went to his head and he left early. He left not long after Paul had joined us brandishing his go-karting trophy. Paul was most distressed to only have come third (he is the best driver in his family, you know). We spent some of the night chatting to a nice lesbian from Melbourne and her Kiwi friend - they were good fun.

Barcode Soho was on the way home, so we called in for a swift pint – I had forgotten that Mark and Matthew were going to be there, so that delayed us further. Our friend Eduardo works at Barcode, so when he finished work, we all went to the Escape Bar for a small dance. I chatted to an American intern who is working for a conservative MP here. She was trying to reconcile that with her being a Democrat. She was out with a friend and they's only been here a week, which meant I spent an hour boring giving them tips on London, now that the pound is worth $A2 …..

Saturday I foolishly spent an hour on the phone to my sister, who has just booked her tickets to come to the UK in April. Foolishly because I should have been getting ready to go meet Paul’s Mum and his Aunt Daphne for our ‘Golden Girls’ lunch. Paul headed in early and I followed, met them in Fortnum and Mason for a coffee, then Patsy and Edina Julie, Daphne, Paul and I went to Quaglino’s for lunch. It was very good – last time I was there I wasn’t impressed, but this time the food was spot on. It’s still very much a big Terence Conran 90’s restaurant, but it’s almost retro in style now.

I didn’t take my camera, and forgot about my phone, so you will have to go without pictures. Those of you on dial-up will no doubt be delirious.

Monday night we stayed in and watched ‘Cinema Paradiso’ which was very seductive. I found it to be a bit too sentimental and simplistic, but it was beautifully shot. And quite humorous in parts. I loved it just for the cinematography. I’d give it 7.6/10.

Never cross a foreigner......

Tuesday night, Damien, Paul’s new best-friend Sue, Paul and I went to see ‘The Page Turner’, at the Curzon Cinema in Monopoly's most expensive real estate, Mayfair. I'd probably class the film as a thriller with some comic touches, but I’m not entirely sure if it was supposed to be comic. Lots of French brooding in it too. The young female lead Deborah Francois was excellent, very sweet, yet menacing and Catherine Frot is beautiful in it, exuding French style through every pore….. And Mum would think Pascal Greggory was pretty dishy as well – he’s a sortof gallic Christopher Plummer. I gave it 7.2/10.

After the film we went to possibly London's only Polish-Mexican restaurant. They have flavoured vodka!

Ghosts Don't Cry

Finally last night we got to see Volver, although for a period it seemed we wouldn't. It was sold out at the first cinema we tried to see it at, so there was a mad dash through the pouring rain (and last night the rain in globally-warmed London was almost tropical) to the Curzon in Soho.



The film itself I thoroughly enjoyed - perhaps I'd agree that it's not Almodovar's greatest movie, but I thought it was typical Almodovar, irreverent and comical, and the women's roles were great. He seems to love having strong women in central roles in his films.



The colours and cinematography were enticing and alluring and I found the film itself quite seductive. Penelope Cruz acted fantastically, stealing the movie, and acting far better in her native Spanish than she does in English. She seemed to occupy the entire screen in her scenes - and the film somehow managed to emphasise her beauty (at times she reminded me of Sophia Loren), despite the fact the lives portrayed were quite ordinary and not at all glamourous.



The whole experience was quite captivating and I'm keen to view Volver again - I suspect it is a film where subtle nuances are picked up through repeated viewings. I could easily have sat through another two hours of it. I suppose I have to give it a mark out of 10, so I'll give it 8.8/10.

See, everything is connected

So tomorrow we're off with the rest of Gay London to Brighton, for Brighton Pride. Still free and still a lot of fun - it's like London Pride used to be. All afternoon drinking in a park - something tells me it could get messy. I spoke to my Mum ('Hi Mum - hope you're feeling better!'), last weekend and she asked 'How long does Pride last?' - I suppose it's all very confusing what with London Pride(or Europride as it was this year), Soho Pride and now Brighton Pride. Anyway, they're all different and all separate. And we're going to them all. Tomorrow with Stuie, Damien, Mark, Mark, Oscar, Lee, Clayton, Jari et al.

Also going along tomorrow is Derecks. Whose combined birthday party with his partner, Don (he of the death trip to Wales), we attended on Saturday night. Rupert, whose exhibition opening we went to last night, was at the party too. He's a sweet guy and it was very interesting chatting to him about his paintings. Rupert channels his colours. Now Paul wants to start channeling. Imagine the first channeling accountant, channeling speadsheets. I can see there would be a demand for it.

Don is originally from Cork - and his son is friends with someone who was in the Cannes-winning film 'The Wind That Shakes the Barley'. And we saw that on Wednesday night (8.15/10, since you asked). It was very good - I liked it a lot and thought it was pretty fair to all sides. And it showed what pr*cks human beings can be to each other. And how lucky Australia was to be granted independence and not have had to fight, brother against brother, family against family for it. And that imperialism is wrong, which bring me on to Lebanon, and Iraq, and.....

So you see, everything is connected.

Gay, Gayer, Gayest......

So it was late, far too late, on Monday morning. The weekend was almost over and Orange at Fire was almost the end of five frantic days of London in summer, at it’s finest, at it’s most alluring. We had started on Wednesday night, with the Pet Shop Boys concert at the Tower of London and here we were Monday morning dancing to the remix of Pet Shop Boys 'Minimal' and everything had come full circle.

It was Pride weekend in London, Europride to be exact, and this year gay men and women from all over Europe had descended upon London to party. We had started our celebrations early by going to see the Pet Shops Boys at the Tower, and it was a mini-pride of sorts, with gay men in particular outnumbering other members of the audience by two to one. We had met early, picnicked and drank Pimms in the moat, then danced and sang along to Suburbia, It’s a Sin, Go West, Always on My mind, Where the Streets Have No Name…. It was excellent. Not even the god-botherer trying to get people to repent as people left the concert spoilt the evening.

Fast forward to Thursday night and Steve had arrived from Rome, we were opposite the Tower on the other side of the river (yes, sometimes we go to Sarf Landarn!), watching Cabaret under the stars with another picnic with friends. The atmosphere was festive and by the end of the film people were singing along and clapping and you couldn’t help but think why can’t things always be like this?

Friday was a break from what Paul, using his usual understatement, had already termed the gayest weekend of his life, as we went to Eton College’s rowing club for my work’s summer party. It was another perfect summer's evening and as a result people spent most of the night outside, watching the sun set over the water and enjoying what was probably our last work summer party.

Saturday there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, and that was just in our flat. Not only was it Europride, but it was part two of Stuart’s Birthday Celebrations, (I could only attend two events this year, so I only purchased the Gold package). Oh, and England were in the World Cup quarter-finals. After much fighting for the mirror in our bathroom, Paul, Steve and I headed into town to meet Mark, Angel, Stuart and Jari on Regent Street and take up our positions for the parade. As far as parades go it was ok, but the Pride parade (photos here) in London has always been more about participation than floats and music, and this one was no exception. I was carried away by the excitement of it all and bought a pink Union Flag, I hope to be able to fashion it into a sarong or maybe a headpiece for those more formal occasions when beachwear isn't appropriate.

By 14:15 we had had our fill of whistle-blowing lesbians and left the parade to pile into Browns on St Martin's Lane for Stuart’s Birthday Lunch where Jose-Luis and Olivier from Brussels joined us, as did Clayton, Derricks, Don and Suren. We were lucky enough to have Alistair Appleton dining there with his entourage, (he was also in the march) so that provided us with eye-candy. Our waitress was lovely and despite our many invitations wouldn't sit down and have a drink with us. I fail to understand why some people value keeping their jobs above having fun....

Saturday afternoon and evening was a blur of beer and boys, as we met up with Damien,Chris, Ronald, Glen, Lee, Gavin and various others in Soho Square. I thought it was a nice touch that we all celebrated gay diversity by wearing tight t-shirts, Calvin Klein/2xist/Aussiebum underwear and Diesel jeans. We ended up in the Friendly Society for a lock-in, then very unwisely headed down to Vauxhall to dance. Somehow (well, most probably through a haze of alcohol) Steve managed to lose us and left the club alone. He was sitting on our front step when we got home, looking slightly the worse for wear.

Earlier in the evening, we had been to the Royal Albert Hall, for the Europride Show, where the great and the good gathered to raise money for charity. The evening was stolen by the glamourous Heather Small (formerly of M people), whose set got everyone up and dancing and Sir Elton John, who was fashionably late and was introduced by David Furnish. Other performers included Alan Carr, Graham Norton, Jennifer Saunders, Ruby Wax, the casts of Chicago and Avenue Q, Boy George, Sir Ian McKellan and Stephen Fry, amongst others.

Stephen Fry, in particular, struck the right note for the evening – he spoke of how in the 90s, when everything seemed so bleak in Britain for gay men and lesbians, how he spent time lobbying MPs to change laws and he said ‘Their arguments could be reduced to one thing. Love. They were afraid of love.’ And we remembered how different it was back then, when we used to come to the same hall, ironically opposite Victorian England’s greatest monument to love, the Albert Memorial. Then, when Stonewall held The Equality Shows, with equally stellar casts offering their services gratis to raise money to fight for equality. Then, when the age of consent was 21 for gay men, and gays and lesbians were not allowed to adopt, and Section 28 prevented schools even discussing homosexuality, and people could be sacked for being gay, and immigration was closed to gay partners and gay men and women couldn’t serve in the military.

And just how different it is now, no matter what your opinion of Tony Blair, of the war in Iraq, of the constant spin and the disappointments, at least his sense of social justice has prevailed and has dragged this country into the 21st century. Admittedly sometimes with the tabloids still kicking and sometimes still screaming, but gay men and women can serve in the military, and can adopt, and can be civilly partnered, and can build a life with their foreign partners and no longer can be discriminated against at work. Now the age of consent is an equal 16, and Section 28 is no more.

So for us, after Elton had been introduced by his 'husband' and after we had been told we must continue to fight to maintain our rights, it seemed apt and right to celebrate. And what better way to celebrate than to go dancing with my beautiful boy, and our best friend. And we had a great night, just the three of us.

And another stunning summer's day ended ended our Pride celebrations. So after not nearly enough sleep, we went for lunch with Steve and then said our goodbyes as he headed to the airport. Paul and I jumped on our bikes and rode to Hampstead Heath, where we lay in the sun, and ate ice-cream and dozed and swam and read. Happy Europride!

Nothing to see here...

We had a fairly quiet weekend, as our midweek trip to Wales midweek left us a bit knackered, and I was oncall. Which means we only went out and got drunk twice. As you do. Friday night saw us out in London's trendy London Bridge. We met the lovely Chris and Bernadette for a couple of drinks, then dinner at Brindisa, a great Tapas bar right next to Borough Market. Chris and Bernie were on good form, too, so we had a fun night. They headed home around 10pm, so we bravely ventured to a less salubrious south London bar for more drinks.

But I can't misbehaved too badly, as I got up and cooked ricotta pancakes on Saturday morning (Photo 2) and then made my famous tuna baguette for lunch Saturday (photo 1). The ricotta pancakes were made with raspberries and then I served them with honey, creme fraiche and strawberries. The recipe was taken from Nigel Slater's new cookery book (The Kitchen Diaries) - which I can't recommend highly enough (9.6/10). It's fantastic -written diary style, (whoever would have thought!) and he manages to impart a real love of food. I've never been a huge fan of his until this book.

We had wanted to catch a movie Saturday night, but I had placed M:I:3 on the banned list, as I think Tom Cruise is a freak, and the Guardian had given it only one star. So we went to see Confetti instead. It was quite good (7.4/10) - in a quirky mocumentary way. Stuart really enjoyed it, which is why we'd chosen it. It was followed by drinks at Rupert St, then a quick Japanese at Taro, then more drinks at the Friendly Society. Maria shouted me a G+T, after I thanked her for hosting our birthday drinks. Then she let us stay for a lock-in.

Sunday I was called for work, so had to do an hour's work with a throbbing head (oo-er, missus). Not as throbbing as Stuie's lip though, as he was mugged on the way home. They grabbed his wallet and new mobile, but he has grazed knees and a swollen lip. Unfortunately his inebriation meant he doesn't recall what happened.