Friday, May 11 2007, 17:18

Ten years later...

Craig's blog from yesterday reads simply, "A great man. What a speech. Try reading that and not getting a bit of a tear in your eye."

Inwardly rolling my eyes (as I am wont to do), I dutifully clicked on the link and read Tony Blair's resignation speech from start to finish, and was slightly surprised to find, at the end, a bit of a tear in my eye (although the less generous of you will protest that it doesn't take much to get me wet... er... lachrymose, that is). While Craig and I both have strongly held views on politics, Craig is actually a Labour activist and is thorougly involved. I, on the other hand, believe that being too earnest about anything is almost bad manners, and firm convictions should only be revealed (if at all) using a more dignified and subtle combination of circumlocution, hints, and periphrasis, punctuated at most by a raised eyebrow or a particularly penetrating look. Sometimes, I confess, I slip from this lofty ideal in the heat of the moment. Usually with Craig, who mixes a cogent argument with ridicule and leaps of logic in a most irritating fashion, however educational it might prove...

But I digress...
1997 was the year I was first eligible to vote, and even though I stuck my ballot papers in the wrong box, I was thrilled to be taking part in what I hoped would be the end of the Conservatives, although I voted (as I always have) Liberal Democrat. I sat up all night and watched the election results and was elated to see John Major et al. sent packing to the Opposition benches.

I never voted Labour because growing up in Hereford it's a wasted vote (please ask Craig for a robust defence of the first-past-the-post system), and the Lib Dems occupy the middle ground where I find myself most comfortable with my incongruous mix of idealist and right-wing opinions. But a lot has changed since 1997. Tony and friends have re-invented Labour as a centrist party, and, as unfashionable as it might seem, I like him and I agree with a lot of what he's done. Granted, Labour have abolished two things that have got me where I am today, namely the assisted places scheme for schools, and free university education, but actually I can't fault the logic or fairness of that.

Significantly for me, a decade under Tony has seen unprecedented equalisation in rights for us gays. I don't believe for a moment that the UK population as a whole agrees with that, but Labour has removed any legal excuse for homophobia, and forced this good thing on the UK. When I started university, I hoped the age of consent would be lowered to 16 - I couldn't have believed ten years later there would be civil unions, the removal of Section 28, and new legislation to outlaw discrimination in the provision of services :) Leaps and bounds! In ten years, being gay has become so much less of a millstone, and as children are brought up with more "normal" stereotypes in front of them (thanks, Dafydd), hopefully the bigotries of their parents will be left behind.

I do utterly despise George Bush, but I recognise that it would be inexpedient to snub that imbecile. And while my feelings over Iraq are mixed, I do trust Tony Blair, as much as you can trust anyone you only see on tv. I can believe that he has done the things he has done believing them to be the right thing, and although the consequences of some of those things have been very costly, others (Sierra Leone, Kosovo) have been positive in their outcomes. I know that being PM must be the worst job there is, and I wonder if I could have made better decisions in the end.

Anyway, that must be enough. I'll be sad to see him go, even though I don't live in the UK now. I'd much rather have him as PM than any of the right-wing crews on both sides of parliament here!

Sunday, May 13 2007, 23:59

Another year, another Eurovision...

It's over for another year. We just finished clearing up after our Eurovision party (which even received noise complaints from the neighbours). It's been a bit of an annoying state of affairs in that I've had to purposefully ignore the news and not read emails today so I wouldn't find out who won in advance of when it was shown tonight (Sunday), when our intimate gathering of friends who helped us play the drinking game through all the songs, and of course the interminable points round. Once again, the UK put forward another piece of crap, aka Scooch, although in fairness their song wasn't nearly as execrable as some of the other entries. What worries me most is that there were 18 countries whose songs didn't even make it into the final - they must have been ultra-pap!

The last time I played the drinking game was at Andrew and Andreas' party a few years ago, and I remember the poor girl who picked Latvia out of the hat was vomiting copiously before she went home with her sweepstake winnings (a small compensation). I too threw up and passed out in an armchair. This year, my lottery country was Moldova, so I wasn't drinking that much. Tim, on the other hand, had the highly-scoring Turkey and Ukraine (who should have won with their outrageously bad drag/shiny/bizarre performance. John blasted into first place with the undeserving lesbian crew from Serbia, so the winnings stay in the flat this year, but John's kept his dinner down through a strategy of being on the phone when he should have been drinking, and only sipping half a glass when he should have been sculling. Meanwhile, Tim is blind drunk and probably already unconscious. Ugh. Work tomorrow. Another glass of water before bed, I think...

Monday, May 14 2007, 23:33

Beef cheeks

John and I went to a French restaurant on Saturday - Onde. One of John's colleagues had recommended it, and despite Tim's recollections that they had lots of offal on the menu, we went there in search of something veggie-friendly. I found beef cheeks on the menu! Can you believe it? Mustard breaded beef cheeks with confit of tomato, garlic, and olives. It was delicious! My beef cheeks were bizarre and mouthwatering, distinctive, delectable and quite yummy. John had some salad or other.

Meanwhile, Bryan returned home today from a lengthy sojourn overseas - partly in Utah, partly in Cork, and partly in London. His London anecdotes have stirred a little homesickness, although his recollections of the Tube and the people on it provoke rueful smiles rather than any genuine affection ;) We'll see how I cope with the heightened stresses of London in just twelve weeks!

Friday, May 18 2007, 0:44

Holding the Man

I just got home from a play at the Opera House tonight - it was called Holding the Man. It's based on a book, a memoir that I'd never heard of before I got here, but I've had it recommended many times and I'm going to have to borrow a copy as soon as I can, because I loved it. I'm not going tell you what it's about other than it's boy meets boy, boys fall in love, relationship up and down, AIDS, tragedy. I didn't really have any expectations when I took my seat, but during the first act, I couldn't stop laughing - and I laughed so hard, it made my throat sore, and I wasn't alone.

The second act had its laughs, but we sat and intently and sadly watched the story draw to the end that was no surprise. No twist in this tale's tail, just a moving and undressed account - a view of the story with our main character in it, and also with his own eyes. I often judge films and theatre by how much they toy with my emotions, and how wrung-out or exhausted I feel at the end. This one got every last drop of merriment and melancholy out of me.

I know it's a real cliche for a gay man to go and watch a gay play about a gay man who gets AIDS and dies. Well. An 80s cliche maybe. But I know I can honestly say I'm oecumenical and indiscriminate in my response to emotive stories, and I blubbed heartily at the end of The Timetraveller's Wife, The English Patient, Romeo & Juliet, and Watership Down (and there aren't even any humans in that, let alone gay ones). When the cast came on for their bows at the end, I could only manage a brave smile as I clapped furiously. Sometimes actors come out for their applause and I think they did their job well, but today I felt like they've been living two people's story for us - really living it - and they looked back at us with sad smiles as if to say, "this really moved me, I wanted to show it to you".

Holding the Man is in its third season in Sydney already since November last year, and each one has sold out. It's expected to tour in 2008. If you can go and see it, do.

Thursday, May 24 2007, 0:32

Chris gets me wet and wild in Brisbane

John's off on his holidays, so I decided I'd have my own little getaway too. Last weekend, I went to visit Chris in Brisbane, and I must say I had a great time. My flight got in mid-afternoon, and Chris and I pretty much went straight out after refreshing ourselves with a little bit of feet up at his place in the Valley. He took me back to the Powerhouse, which I had last visited way back in 2003 with Paul and Matt, and we had a few beers there before knocking back a bottle of wine over dinner at Capri. Time seemed to fly by, and it felt like midnight at 9.30! It might have seemed lame to call it a day, but we were both pooped, and had a big day ahead of us.

Sunday was Wet'n'Wild day! It's still quite hot and sunny in Queensland now, and Sunday was perfect for several hours at the Gold Coast's water world. We were there for about five hours, I think; it's amazing how many variations of slide + water you can get, and we went twice on nearly all of the ones that were open - from slides that were pleasant and almost relaxing to ones that were exhilarating and left me giggling uncontrollably, or spluttering a faceful of water out of my nose, or even gingerly rubbing at what I thought might be two incipient welts on my back! Throw in some idle chatter, some cautious sunbathing, some splashing around in the wavepool and nattering in the spa about topics we really should have avoided in the presence of young children, and you have the makings of a great day out. By the end of it, we were slightly tired, but pleasantly sated, and we drove back to Brissie with smiles on our faces.

Sunday evening began with a quick wander around Brisbane's Greek Paneyiri Festival on the South Bank, complete with vile retsina, viler imiglykos wine, Castlemaine XXXX (only found in Queensland and the UK), and a large dancefloor of people bouncing along to famously Greek tunes, led by two guys wearing enormous head masks and big moustaches... The main event for Sunday evening was a trip to the club, Family. We were joined by Chris' mates, Troy and Sam, and we were all a bit apprehensive about the small number of people inside. As the evening progressed, it filled with strange oddball folk in rather look-at-me-aren't-I-alternative clothes, jerking to the harsh sounds of electro house. I think you probably guessed the music wasn't my bag, but the company was great, and we partied on until quite late before collapsing exhausted into bed.

While Chris went to work on Monday, I gave up on my fruitless semidozing and took a ferry down the Brisbane River to Queen St Mall for some idle wandering until Chris whisked me off to the viewpoint at Mount Coot-tha to take in the spectacular view. There's pretty much bugger all else to do up there though, so we returned to civilisation and spent the rest of the day chatting with Troy and Sam, and then stuffing down pizza in front of Big Brother.

I would have liked nothing more than to just curl up on the sofa and catch up on my snoozing, but a flight home beckoned, so I had to settle for snoozing on the plane. But it was all worth it - as we came in closer over Sydney, I realised we were flying directly over the harbour. Below me, I could make out the Bridge and the Opera House floodlit in the darkness, and all the towers of the city picked out in a hundred thousand diamond pinpricks of office fluorotubes, and topped by the red, white, and blue neon of their various signages. I have never been lucky enough to fly into Sydney at night, so this was a rare treat, and a great way to end my trip.
Next weekend: Melbourne!

Pictures from Brisbane