London, My London

I was flicking through my blog and happened upon some pictures that I've taken of London over the years.

At times London offers itself as my best friend, while at others it is my conspiring enemy.



















Tomorrow the media and police are predicting that London is going to take a battering from the G20 protestors. And no doubt the world will see how ugly London becomes.

But once the hoardings come down and we are back to normal she'll sparkle again.

Unnecessary Theatre Memorabilia

What a surprise! On Saturday I found the postman had delivered a package from the Royal Court Theatre.

I was even more surprised when I opened it. It contained "used" underpants. These pants:



You may have seen these pants elsewhere on my blog, but just in case you missed them...



I put some bid in for a charity fundraiser, for fun, and now it seems I've got a set of the pants as worn on stage by Harry and Luke Treadaway.

All I have to worry about now is whether they have been washed-or whether to leave them unwashed, thus preserving value!

Still The Weekend

On Tuesday mon C returned after an almost 5-week absence; as usual I bought him some flowers to mark his return. They almost match the colouring in this picture of him, which is important...



This time he's home for just over 8-weeks before heading off to Zurich for a quickie, and then he's back for another 5-weeks or so! Hurrah.

The clocks go forward an hour tomorrow morning. We loose the hour from the weekend. Why not take it off the working week - surely that's worth protesting?

In any event it does mean spring is sprung. Buds are forming on the tree...



Saw this on the telly. It's just round the corner from us on the Regents Canal. I can't now remember what it came from. It might have been Red Riding, but likely not - I've just remembered that was set up north. Not north London.


above from the TV and below one of my pics...



And finally, before we head up to Stoke Newington to see if it is where we want to buy a house, it's cooking time...

What The Weekend Holds

As the clock moves forward an hour, it means:

(a) I loose an hour in bed; and
(b) I loose an hour from my weekend.

Why couldn't the clock move forward on Wednesday at 2pm so my working week would be shorter?

Tomorrow night were' off with friends J&KC to see Priscilla Queen of the Desert at the Palace Theatre.

Fortunately we're sitting in the middle of the 3rd row of the stalls. Because a lot of the action takes place up high and at the back of the stage I've heard that even the best dress circle seats have problems with the view. There are television screens for them to view the action that is otherwise obscured from their £95 premium seats!

Over There @ The Royal Court Theatre

Friday night saw me at the Royal Court theatre for Mark Ravenhill's Over There.

Review to follow. Typical Ravenhill, though. For some of the audience I'm sure it was nothing more than sexy cute real-life twins do kinky things in American Apparel underpants.

As to the play itself - I'll let the pictures do the talking.

What The Doctor Said

Being a Doctor Who fan, you can imagine how excited I was when I spotted Matt Smith on Friday night.

I was on my way to a cousin's wedding in Huntingdon, but first was taking in Mark Ravenhill's Over There at the Royal Court theatre.

I'd spotted Russell Tovey outside the theatre earlier. He was playing in A Miracle.

He has also appeared in Doctor Who in the third Christmas special, Voyage of the Damned. You might see him again sometime in Doctor Who and stuff...

It must be a chore for actors to be pestered for autographs and photos. I usually try not to. Well, not unless they are linked to Doctor Who, or something at the theatre that I've enjoyed. However I wasn't going to pass this opportunity.

I grabbed a pen from the box office and rushed outside to ask if I could have his autograph explaining just how big a Doctor Who fan I was. He was happy to oblige.

Russell Tovey had been one of the favourites for David Tennant's successor, so it was interesting to see the two of them together. I mentioned this to them. Matt Smith remarked that he bet Russell had probably wished he had been chosen too, and regretted that he wasn't-but in a nice way!

Besides, his Doctor Who related days aren't quite over yet!

I asked if I could take their photo, and Matt Smith suggested that I had my pic taken with them.



When he put his arms around Russell he remarked how big he had become. I suggested it was all that turning into a werewolf that had done it to him (which is true-ish; I've read an interview where he'd remarked that having to shoot so many naked scenes for Being Human had made him beef-up a bit).

Which is exactly what I'm saying in that picture above.

Two things, twice

Physically two things struck me about the next Doctor Who. First, Matt Smith is incredibly handsome in the flesh. Second, he looks incredibly young to be a Doctor Who.

However I am sure he will make an excellent Doctor Who.

He also told me 2 things about being Doctor Who. First, he hasn't started filming yet. Second, was something that, following what I said in the post blogged here about the Doctor Dream, I am to keep to myself.



Oh, and these are my Cyberman pics taken from elsewhere on this blog. Just do a Doctor Who search in the box to find out more or click on some of the pics.

Or you can read this: Made in Scotland: Saturday Night Filth.

TV Or Not TV

(I wrote this one 3 weeks ago-it probably tells-but I keep pushing it's posting back...)

I like to watch the telly. Especially when it's Doctor Who.

Though I'm not really John Barrowman compliant. Much better when he was Live And Kicking (gosh Wiki not quite right-JB was co-presenter for a while-before being shooed to electronic circus 'cos he was a crap presenter...) Hmm, makes you wonder why the BBC persevered with him all of 15 years ago, before he disappeared and then came back - as a nancy!


Andi Peters and Emma Forbes fronted Live and Kicking from 1993 to 1996, when Jamie Theakston and Zoe Ball took over. John Barrowman co-presented in 1993 and 1994.

I'm guessing that's the same reason why I recall him so fondly from before... well, reasonably fondly.

Anyway, the point of this post was to mention that I spend so much more time in front of the computer, on the internet, than I do watching TV.

Sometimes I prefer to watch TV (and listen to the radio) on the internet.

So, Broadband for all, yay? Even for the poor people who my taxes are supplementing. And, why not?

Oh, isn't that the idea of Communications Minister Lord Stephen Carter, former president of Aberdeen University SRC while I was a student?

Whose very good friend was one Neal Dalgleish, whose civil partnership went on record as the first with an MP.

Come to think of it, so was that Darling, Alistair - SRC President rather than a CP half (but, mind, not while I was at Uni - He was so before my time!)
benefits scum, the dirty fucking bastards
Which I guess makes us the same three degrees.

Look Who Here

Friday night and i am with Mr Smith the new Doctor Who and Russell Tovey. Matt Smith is very handsome in the flesh and was very chatty too.

With Mr Smith

Friday night and look Who I am with. Matt Smith the new Doctor Who and Russell Tovey. Mr Smith is very handsome in the flesh and was very chatty.

Matt Smith

Friday night and just look Who I am with! Matt Smith and Russell Tovey. The new Who is very handsome in the flesh and was very chatty.

Matt Smith

Friday night and just look Who I am with! Matt Smith and Russell Tovey. The new Who is very handsome in the flesh and was very chatty.

Matt Smith

Look its the new doctor who. You cant see but if is talking to russell being human tovey.

Easter Eggs

You know how DVDs sometimes have Easter Eggs, a hidden message?

Well, from time to time I've hidden the odd nugget on this blog. Sometimes retrospectively. Sometimes to assist with a search. Sometimes for a reference. Sometimes for fun - just like this one, whose purpose may be revealed eventually.

If you find one, or found here because of one, enjoy!

Oh, and I should say I've published a number of posts I'd been keeping in draft form, but never quite got round to publishing before. I'll never finish them, so as I don't want to loose them...

Questionable Referrals

Can I ask if anyone else has experienced this...

I noticed that my stats were up quite a bit today. The referrals were links that didn't really work, but somewhere in them were blogspot urls which, when linked to had very dubious content (which I felt should be reported to blogger).

Has anyone else noticed this? I'm concerned as to why these were referring to me-though it may simply be some spam thing to get traffic back to them....

Donna -vs- Martha

No contest.

Donna.

I was ever a fan of Dr. Who since before a market researcher came to the door of 81 Rosehill Court, as a child, and asked me what my favourite TV programme was. I do remember thinking, and then saying (not knowing why), "Doctor Who".

And ever since then I realised it was true. And I became the fan that the acknowledgement made me.

So, I first knew Pertwee, my head tells me Tom Baker was the best. Just as Jo Grant was to Sarah Jane.

Though I was stunned to think Eccleston was to be the re-imagined who, Tennant so ever eclipsed him.

And as Billie Piper's Rose is to Jo Grant, so is Sarah Jane to Catherine Tate's Donna.


the doctor Donna
So celebrate her, because poor Donna never can.

1,000 - I'm Gonna Bruise You

Welcome to my 1,000th post.

For those who asked to see more of me - here I am. An ordinary bloke, in ordinary dress-down home clothes.



With slightly pink nipples, and a slightly hairy front - masculine. That chest pic is for K. who has been asking to see it, persistently.

Safe, Secure

Your bed should feel safe and secure.

On my birthday I retired, and found gifts where my head should be resting. When I'm with Xfe, I melt into his arms, and he mine. We move, mould and adapt.

Often, on his first night home, I have to remind my body that there is no empty space to sprawl into.

Other nights I'm restless, distressed. Troubled by the worries that weigh so heavy. Work, finance...family.





Our beds should be a safe haven, not pits of despair.

Don't Do Sadness

On Saturday night (for good balance - after all I'd been there on the opening night) it was my second outing to, for the closing night* of, Spring Awakening at the Lyric Hammersmith .

I had to say how much more I enjoyed than the first time. I was in the middle of the very front row of the stalls. At times the performers sat directly in front of me on the steps leading down from the stage.

With a spare ticket I'd invited Mike who rather enjoyed it too.

Sitting there, you can't help but be caught up in the raw energy delivered by the very youthful performers, all of whom were so much more confident, having grown into their roles.

Spring Awakening has a devout, almost obsessive, fan-base following. The theatre was packed with adolescents, no doubt going through the same teenage angst as the characters on stage were suffering - in the same way that Morrissey was singing to me, I mean, really singing to me - all those years ago.

Liam describes it thus:

We had tickets for Spring Awakening at the Lyric Theatre with Rosie & Mikey, the latter arriving (late) from an LGBT Educational Conference draped in a Pride flag signed by Sir Ian McKellen which he wore for the entire evening…

The show itself, “High School Musical meets Bertold Brecht,” didn’t impress me as much as I had expected. Having read only one review and knowing it had won several awards on Broadway, I had been expecting to be blown away – but wasn’t. In the end I think John H summed it up rather nicely in his comment on Brett’s Facebook status; “It's fab if you read the Independent or Telegraph whose ageing critics are desperate to be seen to be hip, but crap if you follow the Standard, Times, FT, Guardian all of whom thought it was average at best. Mostly, it's inaudible or at least indistinct, so you're spared the banality of the lyrics. But the staging is good and those kids from Arts-Ed give it all they've got, some of the boys are comely, and a couple of the choonz are OK.”

I thought the staging was interesting – although I didn’t quite get the need for so much neon in the auditorium. Seating the cast in the audience between their scenes reminded me fondly of our school production of Unman, Wittering and Zigo where, as John Ebony, I was the only character actually on the stage for most of the show, the pupils being sat in the first two rows of the audience.

That's why it's special to them; they connect. In my own middle youth I can appreciate it without connecting to it, for those days are long gone for me...



On Friday night I'm off to see the latest Mark Shopping and Fucking Ravenhill, whose Shoot/Get Treasure/Repeat I so enjoyed last year.

Over There has real life twins Harry and Luke Treadaway in their underpants, kissing and rubbing food all over each other. Meaning to be discoverd on Friday night...

*now transferring to the West End

unwind, deconstruct, fragile

Though with "perfect" picket-fence lives we may live, or worry about living, the alternative.

What if a small something were to go wrong and upset the balance? Might I unwind. A little - a lot? Would it gather a critical momentum, leaving me lost? Or would I simply self-destruct?

In difficult economic times I sleep uneasy, even when mon C is home.

As an aside, sleeping with mon C is easy. If I make him drift up from his sleep to talk, I know he will swiftly sink back into the depths of his dream. We can chat, he will sleep and come the morning , as with his dreams, he never remembers.

Quite the opposite to me, which makes him good company in our bed.

When Xfe is away, working, I have no-one sharing the pillow. My only comfort at night is radio; the various voices keeping me company.

What I do know is that if something went wrong, then I could crash towards self-destruction. But not while Xfe's around.

I've seen it happen before-on stage and in real life. It's a mess.

In this climate, with la crise, my job could evaporate at any time. How would I cope? Without my salary I'd be impotent. Yet, the greater impotency would surely come from feeling less than useful. With no purpose, no structure.

When Xfe is here he'd give me some. But with him away-as he would need to be, earning-I'd be lost. Would I get out of bed? If I did, might I relieve the tedium and faux-tragedy I'd fiction upon myself by escaping with drink?

I can see life unwinding, deconstructing so easily. Without the security of thecast-iron link that Xfe and I forge, it's only a fragile thread that holds me steady...