Who Loves Gays?

We love gays, and so does everyone in Britain apparently.

A new survey out in England says the love is spreading.

From Pink News:

The Stonewall survey published today is one of the most wide-ranging examinations of attitudes in the Britain towards the gay community.

The results are heartening - even 49% of Daily Telegraph readers think that prejudice against gay and lesbian people should be tackled.

There is a bit of analysis over at the site along with some pretty graphs, which look like this:



As they say, it is quite a heartening read. Enjoy.

Andrew Is Leaving (on a jet plane...)

He doesn't know when he'll be back again.



He will be sorely missed. Not quite as sorely as his mother's cat would have been if it had stayed but sorely nonetheless.

He's off back to London to make another go of it.

So, it has happened, the Irish have finally taken over Falconer Street.

The farewell was quite touching. The boys got him a collection of Michel Gondry, Chris Cunningham and Spike Jonze dvds. It was quite amusing, Andrew was visibly surprised that they'd given such a thoughtful gift. And the boys revelled in it. Those Irish are full of surprises.

Best of luck, Andrew. It has been good catching up again. Even though I am sure you saw more of me than you were expecting to.

News Flash: PIRATE DANCING COMES TO EARL'S COURT

Finally met up with my dear friend and pirate dancing partner. If you recognise him from the photo, you know how shy and bashful he is.

We mocked many of London's least fashionable homosexual establishments (The Yard, Barcode, Box) while drinking "pints" and researching for the second edition of Kate Hall's "Big Book of British Smiles".

Then we hit the true class and refinement of Earl's Court. After a short Big Buck Hunter interlude at some pub we sampled the delights of Brompton's. All for just £1. Hoorah.

Know Your Market

Saw this on the way to Waterloo International, advertising based on Ishihara colour blindness tests.

I don't know, to me, cutting off almost ten percent of the white male population, which, for better or worse, would seem to be the power consumer group par excellence, is a little foolish. Oh well.

It has finally happened

I know many of you have been waiting many years to see me in a suit. Well it has finally happened. I have bought one.

My new Sunday bests cost me £149 (but it was reduced from £300, so it is not too cheap). It is 100% wool and quite heavy weighted (thanks Rick). I know it is a little out of the ordinary but I am not a huge fan of ordinary.

























If you look carefully, you can already see that my eyes have taken on that dead, demonish look of the businessman.

Chinatown

My eyes are blue,



this wall is red!

Talk Amongst Yourselves!

I'll give you a topic:

There are not as many gays in London as there are in Melbourne, they just read more.



Discuss!

I found a comb...

I just got out of the shower and to my delight I found a comb. I don't think I have used a comb for about 15 years, or when I have it is merely to do this:













You will note that the final shot uses the "Kate" technique.

That is all, return to your normal existence!

P.S. I was wearing tracksuit pants, sorry!

Tags: photos

We're All Too Beautiful For Words!!!

Caught up with ex-housemate, current ex-pat, Kate last night for her birthday. Good times were had by all over at St John's, a gastropub out Archway way way.

Kate was good enough to teach us all how we could, with just a few simple moves, improve our photogenicity (and make up words in the process). All you have to do is turn side on, twist back, arch your back, stick your jaw out and give a big toothy grin. Simple, see!



Yeah, there is only one problem; it doesn't seem to work. We found this perplexing so we kept trying, comme ça!



































The photos span afternoon drinks at St John's and a quiz night at some pub in Islington where we placed a commendable third (of 17 or so teams) despite a cutting defection by one of our party.

One of my favourite photos of the night was taken on the way home, in Angel tube station. I don't know why I like it. Maybe it is how the light catches, not usually something that my camera does particularly well.

Shopping Spree

We went into town today to visit one of Rog's friends in Lillywhites.



"It's beHIND you!!!"



Rog lights up under the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus



I don't know why we were worried about buying stuff in Melbourne before we left. Everything in this sports store was SO CHEAP!

We got some little wheely cases for next weekend's Paris trip and they were only £5 each. I got some trackies for £5, a hoodie for £7 and a casual suit jacket (with shoulder pads, hmmm) for £7.50. Good times!

This London, Last Night

Went out last night to meet Rog's ex-workmate come friend, the loverly Victoria.

We were supposed to meet at Victoria Station in the darkness of 5:30pm but I got there early so I decided to pop down to the palace to take a photo of the Queen's pad just to prove to you all that I am really here and not holed up in a kibutz outside Bendigo. If you look really really carefully at the upper right hand window you can't see the Queen.

We ate dinner at La Tasca, a chain of Spanish tapas bars (someone must have been thinking of me). Even though it is like the Starbucks (note the conspicuous absence of a link) the food is really quite authentic.

Now, many of you have been noting that Rog hasn't been appearing all that much on the site. Here is a short photo essay of why that has come about:


"Don't take a photo of me!"


"Did you just take a photo of me?"


"I think he just took a photo of you!"


"Did a light just fly past my head? Hello everyone, I'm Vic and I'm really nice."


"Hello, I'm here too!"

As you can see, it was a wonderful meal with lashings of red wine and a feast of inconsequential, nit-picky debate (I was in hog's heaven). And for all of the pounds that were put on many more were taken away.

From sunny Spain we ventured out into the cold and over to Zander. I am sure you all know my innate dislike of hotel bars but this one was acutally quite nice and had its own I'm-not-really-a-hotel-bar kind of atmosphere (provided you didn't happen to look in the direction of the hotel reception).

And just to prove that Rog isn't the only one who can take a bad photo:


"Are we really posing in a hotel bar?"
"Yes, but if you lean a little to your right, you will block out the view of reception with your body."
"Nah, don't worry; the camera is set to slow shutter so it will be all blurry and unrecognisable anyway."
"Hoorah!"

The highlight of the night, or at least the funniest part (excepting, of course, my lesbian at the gynecologist joke) was when Vic went up to order the second round of this fabulous beer called Bitburger (see glass) and mistakenly called it Furburger. I have absolutely no idea where on God's green Earth she came to be under the misapprehension that it was called Furburger, and I doubt I will ever know, but at least the cute barman found it amusing, almost as amusing as Vic herself did. She's a keeper!

And finally, I leave you with more proof that I am in London. Here is a pretty shot of the Green Park Underground sign (okay, yes, I could have chosen a more iconic station. Deal with it!).

It was so cold last night...

Okay, it may be winter but this is ridiculous! At least it could stay above 0.

Not that it makes much difference here; the heating is well integrated into the house and is always on. Unless you go outside you don't really know it is winter.

The wierdest thing is that it can warm inside and bright and sunny outside and yet, looking out the window, people are walking around in coats, scarves and gloves.

Anyways, click on the pic to see how lovely the BBC says it is here in chilly Acton at the moment.

Another piña colada please (and someone thaw out my pussy!).

Surprise!

Not that I want to be (fairly) labelled as some kind of tuna-fetish freak but I wanted to allay your fears that if you came to visit us over here that you would not be served any of my many wonderful dishes that have been christened Tuna Surprise.

I am excited to announce that Tuna Surprise is alive and well and being served at Berrymead Gardens thanks, in no small part, to Morrisons Yellowfin Tuna Fillets in Olive Oil.



Now, I am not saying this is SIrena Italian Style Tuna In Oil, but at least it is a start. It is also a start to my new and brilliant career in food photography.

There's No Taste Like Home

All my life I have grown up knowing that the perfect and most natural word association for the word whinging is... pom. And it is definately true. Hang out with any brit for more than five minutes and you are bound to hear at least four clear and separate complaints about food, weather, clothes or television programming. Believe me, spend a few hours with Rick and you'll begin to whinge about Australia yourself. I always thought that the Brits carried some genetic predispostion to whingability; one that probably stemmed from the shallow gene pool and generations of interbreeding. Yet, on arriving here I have found that there is another natural and just as perfect word association for whinging... AUSSIE!

On noticing this, I pulled on my over-alls, knawed on my strand of straw and got to thinkin'. I've always assumed that at the heart of this whinging is a desire to take aim at the cultural products and practices of the "foreign" country, but that isn't actually the case. It seems now that this whinging is just an expression of dislocation. It is not that the Brits don't like Australian television programming per se, it is just that it lacks the comfort, the predictability and the essential "Britishness" of British television programming. It is just unfortunate that the constant expression of this becomes whinging. It is easier to say that Weetabix is shit than it is to say that you miss Weet-Bix and to look at Weetabix as an entirely new and exciting world of ceral goodness waiting to be explored. We get far to caught up in the comparison of goods without realising that what we are really doing is trying to replace what we can no longer readily access.

I think that the Brits amplify their whinging abroad because at its heart there is an element of "oh my God you are so backward here" but ultimately it is not a matter of cultural progression; it is a a matter of culture. We are all simply used to different things. Different countries have developed different tastes. Salad cream never took off in one country and cream cheese didn't take off in another. It is when these tastes become second nature and we assume that we can find them anywhere that we get that indignation when they are not on the supermarket shelf.

On that note, here are some of the things I am already indignant about not finding at my local Morrisons (which up until recently was a Safeway, apparently):

Weet-Bix (though I do love Weetabix in their own right)
Sirena tuna (because Tuna Surprise will never be the same without it)
Thai curry paste (still on the lookout for some)
Continental Chicken Noodle Soup (not that I ever ate it that much but now I can't get it, I want some)
Those noodles with 5 flavour sachets

UPDATE: After writing all that we decided to order take-away Chinese/Thai. Oh, my Lordy.



I had to take a photo of it to show that you can actually make a "Thai Green Curry of Chicken" without actually using any coconut milk. I hope this is the exception rather than the rule, otherwise, I am going to be whinging my warm little Ugg boots off!

Mixamitosis

Well, I had my first night in London. It was a relatively understated affair; there was hardly a drag queen in sight next to no pole-dancing, but it was still a ball.

The purpose for our little jaunt was to catch up with Rog's ex-housemate, Duncan, a lovely young chap from the land of the long white cloud. We took the "tube" into Shoreditch to the Dunksta's flat. From there we went off some underground bar just off Old Street named Smersh, which was sort of like the Russian version of Double Happiness, only less busy. It was quite sleepy that night so after a bottle of beer and some vodka we moved on to Trafik, where I drank my first pint (well, my first pint in London, this time around). Trafik was cool, if not a little non-descript. Our next stop was a cocktail bar under some restaurant. Martinis, martinis, martinis. Joy of joys!

But of course, the fun didn't stop there. For some ungodly reason we ended up travelling across town in a black cab to get to a summer beach party in Clapham, which Duncan decided to drag us to. Lovely crowd, lots of delightful chit chat, lays a plenty.

Then came the fun part... getting home, because unfortunately, London, the city that never sleeps, is also home to the London Underground, the transport system that seems to sleep with clockwork regularity. No "tube" after midnight. So in the middle of this terribly cold evening we had to negotiate the Night Bus system. Left at 3am got home at 4:30am. We are starting to put together a little portfolio of reasons to move closer to the city. This one goes straight to the top of the list.

Anyway, long story (kinda) short: Red + Vodka + Beer + Gin + White = Nasty, queezy stomach feeling = Not going open air ice skating today!

Happy Australian Days...

So, on this very chilly English Australia Day I have received the first pics in of some much warmer Australian days. Thanks Don for all of these. I have put a few up for everyone, you can find the rest at donaldritchie.com (how's that for blatant cross-promotion). On a similar note, other friends are popping up with blogs so I shall post those bits and bobs in the side bar for your perusing pleasure.

So, without further ado...

Let's start with Midsummer at Fed Square. Note the very flat rain soaked hair on yours truly. What a very Melbourne day that was, weather wise!





And it wasn't only raining of course... it was raining GAYS, Hallelujah!!!



Next up we have the dinner at Palate the Saturday night





We haven't got a shot of the Long Island Ice-Tea yet but we do have Kelly with a dessert mo'



And it was all downhill from there...





Then to Blu Bar and the wonderful story of Nerida and her beau...



And me and my alcoholism!



Unfortunately we don't have shots from The Market (not yet anyway) but we do have Nerida yearning for some meat. Thanks to some careful cropping and framing we can now quietly forget the shop attendant's bewildered grin.



Mmmm MEAT!

Berrymead Gardens: A guided tour

Let me show you around, give you the lay of the land... This is where I find myself humbly aboding. 48 Berrymead Gardens in sunny Acton. Because I am nice, and in true Aussie ex-pat style, I have donned my new Ugg boots and stepped outside to show you our lovely lemon frontage.



The open door you can see leads into a foyer where there is another door to our upstairs flat and one to our neighbours downstairs flat (apparently they are lovely). It is a sort of air lock where we can trap unwanted visitor and if all goes ahead with the planning permits, once we electrify the floor, we can torture them as well. Joy!

Oh, and here are the aforementioned Ugg boots. Thanks Mum!



Once inside, at the top of the stairs, you get an eyeful of the big mess in our bedroom. If you play your cards right you can see right into the toilet. On a good day you can even see Roger making little brown fish. It is pretty small but the en suite bathroom is handy.



Looking out of the bedroom is the hall. I don't know why but I find this rather charming. there is not much to the place. On the right are the kitchen and the living area and at the end is the stairs to the loft where our imaginary housemates live. I say imaginary because we hardly ever see them. I am sure that will change. At least I hope it does; it will help combat the cabin fever.



So then, here is the kitchen, where you can see that I am cooking my world famous Tuna Surprise. Unfortunately this time the suprise was on me because the tuna over here tastes like cat food, and bad cat food at that, not the gourmet Dine stuff. Luckily I had bought three different varieties. The second can I opened was not quite as bad. I am still holding out hope for the third. If only someone would import Sirena tuna over here. I am sure they would make a killing.



Here is the lounge/living area. Quite nice in late afternoon because it catches the sun (say from 1 till 1:30 when it starts getting dark).



And here is the view from the window. Not the lady with her wheely bag. You can almost hear her lamenting the fact that she couldn't buy any decent tuna at the local store.



Well, that is your guided tour for today. It is actually nice out so I am off to the city to scare some small children.