Sunday, July 27, 2003
My Once-A-Year Day
Over the past weekend, I have: worn far too many silly and colourful clothes than is appropriate for a gentleman my age; been very, very loud, and not just with whistles either; and, most definitely for this weekend only, referred to members of my own gender with the feminine pronoun.
I have also: ingested far too many things which I shouldn't have in a certain place I should have stopped going to when I turned forty; got through my recommended weekly alcohol intake in just one day; and pulled a strop in Comptons, a beer in Bar Code, and absolutely nobody in the Edward in Islington.
And in terms of personal relationships, I have: totally blanked out for an entire night on the dancefloor one of my dearest friends because he forgot my birthday again; arranged to go out for dinner next week with a stranger, whose name, and indeed sex, I now can't recall; gave a back massage to a cowboy; kissed far too many people; and turned up at another dear friend's oh-so-very-genteel 50th birthday bash the following day, having had no sleep, where I merely succeeded in making all the children run away from the nasty man with the wide, staring eyes.
And I also wore glitter. Lots of it.
London Pride, eh? Thank f**k it’s only once a year.