Mark is adorable, and he deserves better than me. He should get a thoughtful, invested and not so egocentric boyfriend who can love him enough not to ruin his day out with his friends. He needs to be able to go off and do his things without me getting in the way.

If you remember, I bought tickets for him for the Crystal Palace game in Brighton on the 1st. Of course, he never got to go to that, and do the ritual of standing outside in the freezing cold with all the other hooligans cheering for the away team.

That’s fifty quid down the drain. That’s a disappointed boyfriend who had really looked forward to it because he can’t go to those things often. That’s a disappointed me because I ruined that for him, and I don’t know how to make it up to him.

I’ll have to think of something to compensate, but maybe I should find someone for him that doesn’t spoil things. They would be much happier, standing there in the freezing rain watching the footie at a stadium.


Today I was back in school. My days of lying in bed eating crisps and playing computer games ended with my lit teacher looking at me with those grey eyes, saying: “Ah, I see young Master A is back amongst the living, and while a student funeral is something of an accomplishment, we will have to see how we can welcome him back.” She and the History teacher and the English language teacher then over the day gave me about four yards of homework to do until Monday. I’ve been sick, so why can’t they show some compassion for the previously diseased?

I am, thus, looking at spending another weekend with my nose in coursework instead of in fun stuff, like beer or wine, dance, song, and Far Cry. I think there’s a saying that “youth is wasted on the young”. That shows what a fat lot the sayer knows, really. Anyone that wants to can come and do this immense pile for me, and I’ll go off to Spain. Maybe visit Pink, so he can grow annoyed with the petite bourgeoisie moi and the working class hero from Surrey. Or I can go and annoy people by feeding the monkeys of Gibraltar. Or eat ice cream in Rome in the shade of the Colosseum with the rest of the tourists.

Can’t it be Christmas break yet? I am so ready to get out of there for several weeks.


This is what the well to do petite bourgeoisie of Sweden go and watch, in the thousands, and feel so liberal and progressive when they come out, because they of course go and enjoy “non-traditional entertainment”. I was reminded of this Swedish act when I was thinking about how to open this segment. Look I could use that bourgeoisie-term twice in a post. You have blue-haired little old ladies with well-endowed pensions that travel across the country for a night out with the cross-dressers of After Dark. I find that amusing, because in their real lives, they’d probably petition the county authorities to “do something” about the real life ones in their towns. They’ll snigger blushing at this song which is one long double entendre from start to finish, beginning with the title “Åh när ni tar saken i egna händer” (Oh when you take matters into your own hands). Of course, “Åh när ni” sounds the same as “Onani” which is the swedish word for masturbation.

Thing is, I try to picture Mark in a dress, but the image contains mostly knees and elbows. It wouldn’t be pretty. The reason for that odd thought is that Mark contacted some company about holding the reception for us in August. I mean, he is the man of lists and planning, and he’ll derive a lot of enjoyment in making lists and planning for the wedding.

But he gave the company a real email-addy, and now there is a new message every other day about how “I and my bride can enjoy a big rebate” if we order a wedding now. Since I don’t have a bride, I’m picturing Mark as one, and the image in my head is clashy. There are some men that look good in women’s clothing. And then there are men that don’t. Mark definitely falls into the latter category. When someone has stabby ribs, knees, and bleeding hip-bones, they should cover it in thick clothing.


It’s soon Christmas. I wonder what I’ll get. 🙂