Patrick

As I have mentioned a number of times, this blog uses Kirsty MacColl song titles for each entry. As I plough through her backlist, it becomes harder and harder to match a song to a post.

So, this entry is dedicated to men called Patrick. Sadly, I can only ever recall knowing two Patricks personally in my life. I cannot really justify dedicating it to the second incarnation of Doctor Who.

The first 'Patrick' of my life was one I wish I could erase from my memory...

My friend Suzy had a cute boyfriend called Matt (I think that was his name, but it was years ago and considering his looks were the best part about him, I can be forgiven for forgetting his name, right?) and, like a lot of young, naive heterosexual males, he was under the misapprehension that two gay men would be perfect for each other because they had one thing in common... being gay. Ah *shakes head wearily* - no.

So, Matt decided to set me up on a blind date. Matt, Suzy and I went to a pub in Chesterfield to meet this supposedly "hot date" and I was terribly nervous. I had only recently acknowledged my sexuality to others at this point and wasn't perfectly happy with my situation, but I went along for the ride all the same.
We ordered some drinks - a bit of dutch courage for myself - and we waited.
A few minutes later, in walked Patrick.

Oh.

Now, before I go on, let me explain. I am not one to judge people by their appearances. Personality counts a great deal... but seriously??

In walked Patrick. Tall (tick), blonde (tick), smiley (tick)...
Eighty billion pounds overweight and wearing a bright orange velour tracksuit?? (CROSS, CROSS, CROSS, ERASE, SCRIBBLE OUT!!!)

FUCK! Or rather, No thank you, I've got a headache!! The term 'bloated citrus fruit' springs to mind (Thank you Saffy!)

I didn't know what to do! I am sure he must have had a beautiful personality and a great sense of humour, so I decided to put my prejudices aside - however, he was one of those - oh, you know the ones... everything is "gay, gay, gay!" Waving hands, laughing at every innuendo, including the ones he was making up for himself.
I was at a loss. So, instead of continuing the conversation, I swigged a couple of large glasses of Jack Daniels and headed to the dance floor alone where I danced like a lunatic and lost all the buttons of my shirt in a mad extravagant dance.

Oddly enough, he never got in touch.

Cripes. remind me never to go on a blind date ever again.

The second Patrick in my life was a devilishly handsome delivery guy who dropped off stock at the bookstore I worked at eleven years ago. He was married, but was the sort of straight guy who likes to flirt outrageously with we of the other persuasion. God, I loved him, even if he was a prick-tease.

So, that's my post about 'Patrick'. Maybe one day I will meet another.

At some point in the future, I am going to have to visit New York to use up some 'Big Apple'-themed songs of Kirsty's and heaven knows how I am going to get I'm Going Out With an Eighty Year Old Millionaire into this blog.
Call me Anna-Nicole Smith??

Busy Life*

So, in a few days I will be flying to the UK for a long-overdue holiday. The last time I was in the UK was over the Christmas holidays in 2005. I wonder how much has changed? Only time will tell.
I have a ridiculously manic schedule (as always) with my various trips and encounters figured out on an excel spreadsheet. I think I'm going to spend most of my time on trains! Ah well, I don't mind travelling to the many corners of the British Isles if it means I get to see some wonderful friends.
It is a great shame that there are many people I won't get time to see during my trip. I wish I had more time to play with, but it simply isn't plausible.
Obviously, I will be blogging about it all at some point. It may be while I am there, but it might also wait until I get back. Who can say at this point?

Anyway, with this forthcoming trip in mind, my life here in Australia has been terribly busy. I am usually a rather reclusive chap during the week but because I have been catching up with lots of friends here 'before I head off' (as one says) I have had to open up my social diary and permit myself some midweek rendezvous (that's the first time I have ever thought of that word as a plural and I had to check to see if it was the same spelling both singular and plural - it is! You learn something new every day. Not interesting, just new.)
I also have been trying to get a lot of housework done because a friend of mine is house-sitting and looking after Fizzgig while I am away and I hope to leave the apartment in a decent state so he isn't repulsed by lurking dust-bunnies.

Not only has my social (and cleaning) life been jam-packed, but my work has been incredibly busy too. I have had to cram in an insane amount of work into the weeks before and after my trip to make sure I get everything done. With all the added stress, one wonders why one holidays at all!
On a rather less jovial note, our manager has sadly been taken ill and will not be at work for some time meaning that while I am away, the work load will be exacerbated for my colleague Nola - I worry that she might implode. So if anyone is reading this and they know Nola, please be kind to her while I am gone!

Well, given that I am so busy, I don't really have time to blither on in this blog (my Hitchcock blog took up precious time yesterday too, darn it!) and I'll get back to cleaning. Currently I am sat in an old pair of orange boxer briefs so I think a shower and a change into something more appropriate for guests (for more arrive today for pre-holiday meetings) - I don't want them to vomit at the sight of me in my undies.


*Today's Kirsty MacColl themed blog title comes from the opening credits to The Adventures of Mole, part of a 'Wind in the Willows' cartoon series starring Richard Briers, Peter Davison, Hugh Laurie, Imelda Staunton and others. The song was written by Neil Innes and performed by the wonderful Kirsty!