The Boy and The Coconut Tree

My relationship with the USA goes back a long way.  In 1976 Jimmy Carter came to my home town, planted a tree and we all waved the Stars & Stripes at the end of our school field as he drove by, we were excited, not sure why but we knew where America was, and what it meant to us, cowboys, yellow taxis, skyscrapers, Starsky & Hutch etc, the USA was a an icon that seemed friendly and creative. As I grew up and I studied history I learnt of Pearl Harbour, D Day, Hiroshima etc and the stories of how the USA saved us from the Nazis (the Soviet Union's role was whitewashed at the time due to the cold war).  I met my first American in 1982 on a school trip in Belgium (at the site of the Battle of Waterloo), they were tall, loud and friendly and curious about the fact we came from a place called Washington in England.  In 1996 I went to the USA for the first time, New York, and it was every thing I imagined, the thrill of seeing the skyline of Manhattan from JFK airport, ...

During my recent trip to Florence my friend Sally introduced me to street art/graffiti and this is a collection of photos taken in London, Naples, Florence and Budapest of different forms of street art I've seen in those cities. Sally was able to meet her favourite,  Clet  Abraham when we walked past his workshop in Florence by chance. He signed a postcard of his work and gave her a freebie and seemed quite the gent. His art is vibrant but cannot compete with the capital of the Renaissance . Florence Florence Budapest Naples London Florence A Clet piece in his Florence workshop London February 7, 2017

Surrounded by Christmas decorations, forced to listen to Christmas songs and it is November 19th. Christmas now lasts from Bonfire Night or Halloween until Valentines Day.  It is exhausting. I am exhausted by it but it won't put me off my actual Christmas break. I'm definitely half grinch!? November 2016 has been a funny month, a mix of the good, the bad and the bizarre. My birthday was a lacklustre affair, and I should have known not to drink when I was in a weird mood, the alcohol turns me into an emotional wreck, all that was missing were the panda eyes from ruined mascara.  No, it wasn't THAT bad but I've had better but my friends were great as always. I was surrounded by friends and some family and they indulged me, you need to be indulged on your birthday.  The bizarre event was/is Trump, he has been elected in the USA despite losing the popular vote by over 1 million but it isn't the system that is flawed, it was the campaigns and the hate filled rhetori...

The story of a man doing a deal with the devil to improve his life, or gain knowledge, or seek revenge on his enemies is an old one, told in different versions over many cultures.  I had read about Dr Faustus , the Christopher Marlow play, at school or maybe not (my school wasn't big on culture) and had a memory of it and thought the idea was an interesting one.  Last week I was given the opportunity to see it on the stage in London with a colleague and performed by the RSC so it had to be good, right? The Barbican itself is a strange mix of people, the audience can range from little old ladies sipping tea in the cafes to hipsters admiring the ugly buildings and people pretending to understand the more obtuse art installations (I never try to understand them). The audience for the play was a mix and of course the person sitting in front of me was the tallest human in the place, he had to be 8ft tall but most of it seemed to be leg so I could easily see over him. Sat two rows...

Only two weeks ago I was   writing about my romantic disasters , my romantic future and how my time on the shelf had become the norm for me, rather than an occasional experience. I revisited my past recently, very recently. The past weekend in Manchester. Over the past 10 months I had been in contact with an old flame, someone I met a long long time ago, 20 years or so and though the contact was benign and felt nice, it culminated in a reunion of sorts this past weekend. Awkward at first, it is amazing the power of alcohol has on awkwardness and a sense of shyness.  Two people, who were together for little under 2 years, broke up 21 years ago and ended up in bed again. I don't recall who initiated it, it doesn't matter, it felt nice and human nature leads us to doing things that feel nice, we forget the down side to doing things that open us up to hurt. The lesson is, scabs heal, and they may leave scars, small ones, but scars all the same. I have admitted on this blog m...

The title of this post comes from a song, one of my favourites, sung by The Three Degrees and I will post it here as it is light, up beat and fun: The title of the blog arises from my turning back on the dating game. I have been single for most of the last 11 years, yes 11 years. I have had sprinkles of romance in those 11 years, a few months here and there, especially in Spain and a bit here in London but I have simply lost the will to throw myself to the wolves.  As a gay man your age is important, then take your physique.  You are always at your most desirable from 18-30, especially 18-25 (your popularity peaks as does your willingness to be promiscuous), then you expect your 30s to be calmer, settled, maybe finding Mister Right (he doesn't exist, not for me you or any one, we put people on pedestals and they fall).  My decline in dating took place from my late 30s. In my 20s and 30s I could reasonably expect to meet someone new and interesting every month if ...