First, belated happy blogday to Jonathan, well done mate, and it’s always interesting to read.
The weekend that was started with my mate Aussie Dave (so many Dave’s in my life) and I meeting after work and then heading off to hook up with Wayne at school. He had got us both to join him by offering to do “anything” for us in return. So we quite happily made our way down Fulham Palace Road discussing mulled wine emima’s and double fisting techniques as you do. Imagine our horror to find out that we had been lured into the school Caretakers 50th karaoke birthday party. With 50 fat lady teachers, the Caretaker in a purple silk shirt, the camp School Chef who tried to seduce me with his roast beef(?) Wayne, Dave and I. It wasn’t pretty, but I admit, I do get a buzz out of socializing with the teachers. Almost feels naughty. Dave and I flatly refused to partake in the karaoke and Wayne proudly told me that I would love his song. We fell about laughing when he took the stage to the strains of “You don’t have to say you love me”. Later in The Colherne, we asked him his motive for attending the party, his answer, “Well nobody likes the caretaker and he was worried that he would have a shit turnout and that would spoil his birthday” and I remembered why I fell in love with him all those years ago.
Saturday was a real Robbie Pie Hands day, after laying in, I rushed up to the barber in Clapham South for a “gay crop” which is what I ask for, much to his amusement. I left Wayne with strict instructions to ready himself as we were off to the “Front Room” to watch the rugby. (How butch are we). We screamed in 5 minutes after kick off and watched as Scotland lost spectacularly to England. In attendance were Dave, Ian, Mike (all members of bison ridge, back left hand side of the RVT on a Sunday) and Niel who is just the horniest lad I have ever met. We had a pizza after the match and then headed home for a quick disco-nap and a change of clothes before heading off to Comptons because Richard was 31 and Brent was leaving our shores for Canada. Unfortunately the birthday group had gone by the time we arrived, and after a few quick ones, we all headed off to “The Hoist”, Saturday at the Hoist rules as far as I am concerned. I spent most of the night with my gay son Rob, whose boyfriend (also Rob) is the DJ and the other bit getting up to absolutely no good.
Got home happy and just a bit worse for wear and suddenly had the bright idea to check out Gaydar, bad mistake as 4 hours later I finally got to sleep. After a quiet day it got to 16h30 and although we had sworn not to go to the RVT our bodies, as if possessed, found their way into the jeans and the Hackett shirts and the next thing I know, we were in the rather long queue in the rain. What a stonking evening, punctuated by very funny highlights like Ian’s springbok impression and Dave introducing me to his very horny boyfriend again. I don’t mind at all mate, and remember, you are the pretty one. We had decided to leave after Andy’s set but it all got a bit messy and we caught the last tube home. Rob (the gay son) and I have decided to write a gay soap opera called “Parallel Lives” (the joy’s of the K hole) and have been e-mailing ideas to each other all day.
And that was the weekend, I did Dave’s sex test and am a “playful kitten” so it would seem.