Wildewire

  Yesterday I received a proposal- of sorts, not for marriage exactly but near as damn it. A friend and ex lover who has been going through a series of familial difficulties called to 'touch base' and update me on latest developments. He is trying to arrange time to come to stay with me for a week or so which would be great as I've not seen him for over a year although we do speak fairly regularly. My 'relationship' with him was one of the ten main reasons I left London! -Less to do with our own dynamics as it was to do with his lack of freedom and fear of coming out to his extensive extended family. I understood, but it did me no good: yet another relationship that was going nowhere. It is funny; sex has dropped down my list of priority drives in recent weeks and I have felt increasingly relaxed about that. It has been as if I decided to take time out from the seemingly endless drive and expectation to 'couple'. Having rejected the available online apps and

  I've been spending quite a lot of time alone (apart from my cats) as my lodgers are away for most of the week. I have really enjoyed it. I really enjoy my house, it has surprised me how easy it has been to keep it looking great when I haven't had to cook and to share it with anyone! One of the lodgers will be moving out in or around October, I hope he will be able to look after himself; I have serious concerns about what I think is his 'institutionalisation' which has left him lacking in basic confidences and unable to 'stand up for himself' in any way! If he ends up somewhere where he can still be supported he will be OK... The other one... Hmm... I confess that a small amount of distrust has crept into my relationship with him- not major, but based in the realisation that there is much he is keeping to himself- which is entirely his prerogative. -I keep getting a feeling of insincerity from him, like he is humouring me. I am more than prepared to accept that

I'd seen Ian McKellan play "Max" in this Martin Sherman play in 1979. In my second year at university I persuaded the theatre company I had started to stage "Bent". It was a little sneaky as I hadn't come out yet. I remember that the women in the company were displeased because there were no female characters- the drag queen didn't count! The women decided to rehearse "Slag" in retaliation so we almost had a programme of "Bent" and "Slag", but I don't think "Slag" made it to the stage. I was watching a biography programme about Ian McKellan recently where he mentioned "Bent" and had the same issue with the end of the play as I had done- applause. Of course, applause is the traditional way for western audiences to show their appreciation of a performance, but the final moment of the play was when the main character "Max" kills himself by deliberately falling onto an electric fence in the conc

The "bubble mate" who left my house in high dudgeon a few weeks agon when I called them out for ridiculous and uncorroborateable accusations against Meghan Duchess of Sussex and her husband. Pronouncements against "Princess Pinnocchio" have become a stock in trade for this friend and it gradually began to grate and then annoy me. I asked them to desist, then begged them and finally warned them before letting them have the full force of my displeasure which they'd not witnessed before causing them to flee... ...They returned last week. Little has changed: they thought the reason I lost it previously was that they had spouted a particularly stupid conspiracy theory which nobody but the people involved could know was true or not AND they'd made a pathetic mistake about what they'd read. They had been "researching" stuff this time in preparation for a round two I was not interested in playing... The fact that the "new evidence" came from

  Hmmm... "sexual frustration" is probably better or even "shame"-although I'm not feeling ashamed exactly... It is complicated! Like many single people, a year into the pandemic and with the sun making more frequent appearances so that more men started wearing less clothing, my mind wandered into some torrid fantasies. Well, I say "torrid" but I am a romantic at heart which adds to the problem. I'm a gay man in UK: If I want sex I can find it, anything more seems almost impossible! Things are much better now than in the time of my teenage sexual awakenings: when I think of the amount of time I put into ranging across London looking for cock It embarrasses me. It is so much better now: there are so many ways to "hook up" that don't even include leaving one's home. Sadly of course, an easier access to men seeking sexual congress has no impact in the 'quality' of those men. Also, I live in a city whose culture is based on bo

Everyone gets there at some point I suspect. I have never been one for the "I've stubbed my toe" posts or to share my dinner choices with the world. I've almost always used it to inspire debate. The extent to which real debate happens is limited in several ways but the fact that I actually know 98% of the people listed as "friends" in 'real life' does mean that it can be a bit of an echo chamber. Whenever I've had unpleasant interactions with people they've rarely been people I actually know. I began to avoid certain sites- anything branded by 'Yahoo' usually attracted a particular kind of bold bigot with much to say and no time to listen. I shared stuff about 'Racism in UK', 'LGBTQ Voices', environmental and community development, and general UK news. I've fallen foul of Facebook rules several times. I discovered that of the last ten alleged infractions only one was upheld after 'appeal'. Engaging with Fac

Forward on the fostering front! The same week when I received a letter from Gateshead council asking if I'd ever considered fostering, my 14 year old godson's father contacted me from the Basque Country asking if I'd foster him until he finished school. I could hardly say "no" to my own godson and "yes" to the council so I agreed. I came to regret that decision but what can you do? I've written about it extensively here. I thought again about fostering after being made redundant from the Cowgate job but I didn't because I really needed the money and thought that was the last reason anyone should foster. I can't remember how I found out about the Supported Lodgings Scheme but I think it was because I'd made previous fostering enquiries. The training and preparation to become 'An Approved Landlord' turned out to be about one or two comparatively minor steps short of the fostering training, had I known that at the time I would have &