trash for dinner

There is a woman I see most mornings. She is in her 60's and has a blue pull along shopping trolley. Every morning she roots and rustles her way through the bins and piles of rubbish left on the street. After filling her trolley with food rejected by others she toddles off......where does she go?

And why does she need to collect food from the street?


Have we arrived at the brave new world yet?

a question for the universe

Is it possible to eat too many jellybeans?

And, if you do, what might happen?

Fat Freddy's Drop - Wandering Eye

This is fat freddys drop. A dose of kiwiana. Not only a wellington mob but a LYALL BAY crew......this video cracks me up - NZ silliness at it's best

Oh, to be fabulous and gay

I've been thinking lately about the term 'gay lifestyle'. What does it mean? My lifestyle consists of going to work and coming home again - nothing especially gay about that.

I do have fabulous friends - I suppose that might qualify and I do have good taste in music and I suit hats....and despite my advancing years I dance like a maniac and I like champagne. Is this my 'gay' lifestyle?

Often the term 'gay lifestyle' is used in a disapproving tone. 'I don't want my children exposed to the gay lifestyle' and so on. This is why I object to it so much.

I also hate 'gay wedding' (often used by those getting hitched) It's a wedding. When we label our nuptials 'gay' we somehow make them less than they are. Or am I being homophobic?

Either way I'm off to my gay bed, to have a gay dream (I hope) and tomorrow? Well tomorrow I shall be as fabulously gay as I was today - eating my gay lunch, sitting on the gay tube, having a gay meeting or two........

i am absolutely cream crackered

I am so tired that I can barely think.

I have tomorrow off - my plans for the day include (but are not limited to):

A sleep in
A haircut
A trip to M&S for some new undies


In other news Brixton is about to get it's very own PoundLand. This will be a welcome addition to the spending opportunities available on Brixton Rd. I like PoundLand.

Sweet Home

Feeling a bit homesick right now......
here's what I am pining for. Where I was born and raised Wellington, New Zealand

Cat Calling

I live in a street of shops.

Many of these shops have cats - these are 'working cats' whose sole purpose is to keep vermin away from the stock, they are not fluffy over indulged pets.

Over the years the cats have changed - the shop that used to have a tabby suddenly gets a black and white cat. What happened to tabby? Gone under the wheels of a truck? No good at mousing? The Black Cat was limping the last time I saw him - at christmas. The lives of these cats is not easy.

Add to the mix the feral cats that live around the back of the tube and you have colonies of poorly fed, unloved felines. Who have not been de-sexed.

At the moment the cat calling, the fighting and the screaming is reaching fever pitch and goes on all night. Soon there shall be kittens. I will phone Celia Hammond, who will catch the kittens, and some of the cats, and attempt to rehome them.

And it will start again

Mondays are the pits

I slept in this morning - in my defence my alarm clock broke over the weekend and the replacement I bought wouldn't wake anybody - let alone a person who could (and does) sleep through earthquakes.

My first appointment was at 9.30am. I woke at 8.45am. I was going to be late so rang to tell the woman so - I was honest about the reason (no point making up stuff about broken washing machines, tell the truth). We rescheduled for 11am. I ran a comb through my hair, drank coffee while cleaning the cat's litter tray, managed to spit toothpaste on my shirt (so had to change), grabbed my briefcase and headed toward the door. Tripped over the cat and banged my head on the coat hook (ouch), got out the door, down the stairs and hurried along the road - realised I had forgotten my oyster card, went back and got it.

Hurried along the road again. Waiting to cross the road, woman steps out and gets hit by a bus. I, being prime witness, am delayed further by police requiring a statement. Give up on meeting with woman. Phone her and apologise and promise I'll be in touch to reschedule.

From now on I shall boycott Mondays. Let it be known by all humanity that I will no longer acknowledge Mondays as existing.

That is all.

Except to say that the woman hit by the bus was perfectly fine. I would not be so callous as to moan about my misfortune if I had seen someone hurt........

going to the dogs

Tonight I went to The Walthamstow Stadium for the Saturday night greyhound races. 'The Dogs' is like a parallel universe - the atmosphere is a cross between an old fashioned working mens club and a bingo hall. Attracting a largely working class crowd, it is a fun night out for those of us who hail from that background. For others it might be more anthropological.

While the minimum bet is 10p, I usually push the boat out and 'invest' £1. I worked hard to lose on 13 straight races. I managed to pick the winner of the final race. The expedition therefore ended on a high note.

Spending the evening with a large group of queer folk, surrounded by tough as old boots (but soft inside) working class types, it felt as if I had become a venn diagram. My life intersected perfectly

High camp AND scampi and chips. Can not be beaten

Keeper of the Gem Sweater

Leslie Hall is mad.

I do feel lust for the gem sweater though

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

I watched this film the other night, I had forgotten how much I liked it.

You should see it (again, if necessary)

Hot in the City

It's the beginning of May and it's 30degrees in the shade.

I'm a celt and we don't 'do' the heat very well.

Pity any passersby who happen to glance upward and catch a glimpse of me doing my hoovering in the nude, that's all I gotta say........

I went to my first yoga class tonight

And it was hard.

I've used bits of me that haven't been stretched in years, not since a particularly exciting session with an over enthusiastic lover. Thank god we chose to explore our running dog in the beginners class.

The best bit was the relaxing at the end......and the pint at the pub afterwards

is it wrong to play this over and over and over and over?

My neighbours are probably getting sick of hearing this thumping through the walls. It's a remix of 'I Just Wanna Dance' by Alison Jiear, from Jerry Springer the Opera.

Persepolis

After the disappointment of 'Happy Go Lucky', I was nervous of seeing Persepolis. It was another film I had circled in Time Out and I wasn't sure I could cope if it turned out to be dud.

It was fantastic

Based on an autobiographical graphic novel, it tells the story of Marjane Satrapi and her experiences growing up in Tehran.

We first meet Marjane as a precocious 9 year old. A little girl who wants to be a prophet when she grows up, wears sneakers and has a Bruce Lee poster on her bedroom wall. She comes from a loving family with a long history of political resistance. Before the revolution Iran (and Tehran in particular) was secular. The despised Shah is overthrown and, initially, the revolution is welcomed but the euphoria quickly turns into fear as the religious fundamentalists take control. The Iran/Iraq war begins, life becomes tenuous, people are arrested and the outspoken and questioning little girl is in danger. The decision is taken to send Marjane to Vienna where she struggles to fit in and, after a love affair gone wrong, finds herself on the margins of Viennese society - alone and lonely. She returns to Tehran and enrols in university, attends illegal underground parties and eventually marries (much to her mothers chagrin - 'I wanted you to be independent - not married at 21') The marriage is unhappy and Marjane divorces and. realising that she can't stay in Iran, she leaves for Paris.

The film was moving, beautifully drawn, evocative and the characterisation spot on.

My cornetto rating: 8/10 . Must be seen - not necessarily on a big screen (though I find it helps when reading subtitles)

would a lesbian by any other name smell as sweet?

The good folks of Lesbos are going to court in Athens to try and stop us pesky lady lovin' ladies from calling ourselves lesbians.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7376919.stm

While I myself am not a Lesbian from Lesbos, I am a lesbian who has, at least, been to Lesbos, which gives me a vested interest in this issue. What if the courts decide that the word Lesbian is copyrighted and can no longer be used to label anyone 'cept those born on Lesbos??????

What will become of the Lesbian Pot Luck? What will happen to lesbian hair? What of lesbian drama????

OMG

We had best start planning now, just in case........what shall we be called sapphic sisters? What shall we label ourselves? I like vaginist...