31.08.2002 - They don't know their arses from their elbows...

It's still fresh in our minds; the story of the surgeons in a Welsh hospital who accidentally removed a healthy kidney, leaving the diseased kidney in the patient's body.

cut out and keep handy referenceHot on the heels of that story comes this next tale of welsh surgical horror. This confession tells of woman who had a right knee joint inserted into her left knee. Yet another case of cutting edge surgical skills here in the land of song.

Any doctors or surgeons working in large Welsh hospitals might like to cut out and keep this handy anatomical reference I've provided. Also, they might like to remind themselves of which side is left and which is right. I know it's not easy, this right and left business but your right hand is usually the one you write and wipe your arse with. This is not always the case and perhaps it's best if you check it out with a friend.

link | so... tell me

30.08.2002 - Offensiveness, disgusting habits and a nice ass...

I saw an article in today's Independent which reported that the sportswear manufacturer Umbro was bitterly condemned by Jewish groups yesterday for naming a training shoe after Zyklon, the gas used by the Nazis to murder millions in the Holocaust. Don't these people think? Evidently not. Just take a look at this advert Cadburys launched in India recently. What I'd like to know is how much are these people paid? I know they're asked to think outside the box but there's outside the box and then there's just plain old offensive. They could've paid me half the going rate and I would've told them that naming a sports shoe after a deadly gas responsible for the extermination of millions probably merits reconsideration.

my nice assRichard's site has been suggested to people who are searching under the key words disgusting habit pic This is what the actual search words then uncover: the yankee blogger: ... project. Other than a few rather disgusting habits, he is quite a nice chap. Duncan ... gift. Oh, and don't miss the pic of his ass.... I have no idea what Richard means by all this but it's obvious that he's obsessed with me. He's probably stalking me already...

link | so... tell me

29.08.2002 - Traditional Welsh Faggots...

I once saw a sign outside a butcher's shop in Abergavenny which boasted the above statement. I so wanted my picture taken alongside it. I should point out that a faggot in Britain usually means a sort of largish meatball in a rich gravy. There was a green grocer's shop a little further along the same street called "Happy Fruits". Again, I should've had my picture taken. That inadvertant gay play on words does not happen so much in urban areas, probably because people are a little more street savvie. Seeing such signs in Cardiff would be a little shocking whereas in rural Abergavenny it comes as no real surprise.

When the Gay Liberation movement started to make in roads into South Wales back in the 70's, some local politicians from areas outside Cardiff asked what the hell it had to do with them as they claimed that they didn't have any queers up the valleys! And at this time in the 70's an urban area like Cardiff wasn't exactly that proud of its gay population either - I well remember police hostility to lesbian and gay marches during the 80's..

However, times change... slowly. I now notice that the official website promoting Cardiff as European Capital of Culture in 2008 are citing the Cardiff Lesbian and Gay Mardi Gras as an example of the city's multiculturalism. And just in case it should escape the notice of yr hen iaith brigade, here it is in Welsh too!

link | so... tell me

28.08.2002 - You don't have to be in a good mood to blog...

...But if you're not you end up with this -

Shit, shit, shit!

Go some place else, I'm having a bad day...

link | so... tell me

27.08.2002 - Art to go...

...now only £3.99So, you get a stressful morning at work and you need to get away from it all. What do you do to relax at lunch? Do you trudge around the shops in the rain or do you hang out at a 3rd rate, half-arsed, psuedo-mediterranean bar. Oooo, wait a minute, you could even spend your time and money at the capital's newest and largest electronics boutique (allegedly the newest and largest in the UK or is that the newest and largest in Europe or the newest and largest in the northern hemisphere? Whatever!).

Waterlilies by Claude MonetYou'd think that when you're only five minutes walk from one of the largest and most important collections of French impressionist and post-impressionist works in the country you'd spend your lunch hours there. And now with free access, I might just do that.

link | so... tell me

26.08.2002 - The art of giving up...

The Smoking PopeToday is my 16th day without a cigarette. I feel great about it. One or two pangs of "Give me a cigarette someone and now!" but nothing more than a brief pang. I can taste and smell things again and the increased oxygen to my brain continues to reduce me to a fit of giggles several times a day.

I'll be interested to see how quickly this month's wages disappear - cigarettes must've been my biggest expenditure. It's so wonderful walking past the ciggie counter at my local supermarket and seeing all those people standing in line, queueing for that evening's fix. That makes me feel good. Another plus is that I feel less stressed than when I smoked. And smokers always go for a fag to relieve tension and stress. Don't believe it.

One thing I'm not so pleased about is the gargantuan proportions to which my appetite has grown. If the truth be told, I have never known when to stop eating. I mean, I never understood that feeling of full; you know, that polite I've had an elegant sufficiency feeling. Nuh, I can honestly say that in all my life I've never had that. What I get is that Oh shit, my belly hurts and I think I'm going to burst feeling. The desire to smoke used to usually cut in before I ate so much that I'd explode. With that diversion now removed, lord help me. I think if I continue at the rate I'm going I'll have to trade in my entire wardrobe for a collection of kaftans... or those papal robes above seem quite roomy.

link | so... tell me

25.08.2002 - 2100 things about 21 bloggers in four days...

It's lovely to see Richard's project being supported by so many bloggers.

It's not an easy task, compiling a list of 100 things that say something about you. However, it's worth doing and speaks volumes about the way your mind works. Just take a look at the lists in the order they were written and you'll see certain themes spring up and get continued through several blogger's lists. Also, take a look at the juxtaposition of different facts within the lists. Am I reading too much into the placing of one fact directly after another? Is it all just serendipity and happenstance or is there a thought process to be followed here? Go on, peel away your mind's outer garments and expose its inner workings. Strip for us.

If, however, you want to keep your mental processes fully clothed and don't want to write your own, it's still worth having a read of the ones that have been done. They are fascinating.

The title of today's blog reminds me of an incident from a few years ago. A friend and I were queueing to get tickets for Four Weddings and a Funeral. Feeling a bit mischevious by the time we got to the front, this friend turns to the girl in the kiosk and just says, "Eight Weddings and Two Funerals, please." The girl looked very perplexed for a few seconds then tutted at our attempt at a joke and issued the two tickets.

link | so... tell me

24.08.2002 - Too long and hard...

I am dog tired and therefore there will be no blog today. It's been a long and hard week and it's not over yet. I'm in work again today but then two days off as this weekend is a bank holiday weekend. It's then a long slog to Christmas before the next statutory break for most people.

I can't believe how tired I get nowadays... and how quickly. Someone fetch my tartan booty slippers that zip up the front.

And on that note; what are the fashion do's and don'ts for the older person? Seems like the same old rules apply: Don't expose your upper arms and neck, don't shy away from all black, and don't wear your skirts too short.

Well there you have it; I know what I'm wearing this winter.

link | so... tell me

23.08.2002 - Duh..!

A big thanks to Martijn for his comments system which is now installed and also a big thanks to the bf for getting it sorted. And of course as the bf was sorting it I could see what a dope I'd been. Anyway it's sorted now so please go wild, feel free, write me a comment.

Seems like Richard's 100 things... project is taking off. I'm fascinated by what people write about themselves. So far I've stumbled across Martijn's, Simon's and of course that mad hatter, Richard himself. I'm also a little surprised what I wrote about myself (see below). Is it a stream of consciousness and what censorship cuts in if any when you're compiling such a list? Mmmmm! Go see and write one yourself...

The GCSE exam results in England and Wales were published yesterday. At 07:15am in the morning on my way into work I was pounced on by a man wielding a microphone from Red Dragon Radio. He asked me if I'd had my results. "Yes," I replied, "and the STD Clinic have given me the all clear." I turned on my heel and assumed that they'd not use that clip. I was told later by colleagues that it went out live. Well... do I look like a 16/17 year old?

link | so... tell me

22.08.2002 - A little knowledge and a little understanding...

If you're reading this then the problem with my site has been fixed. I've spent half the night trying to configure YACCS and my website so that I can have a comments section on my blog. I've spent the other half of the night trying to return my website to its state prior to my fiddling about. I'm having severe problems with pages not loading since configuring it.

I'm not sure why it keeps happening. Is it possibly some coding on this site that just doesn't work with YACCS and Enetation? One thing I do know is, it's pissing me off big time. I am sick to the back teeth of it all.

Grrrrrrr..!!

On a lighter note, whilst browsing tonight I came across this piece at Charlie's where he talks about the celebrated horn player, Dennis Brain. In Charlie's comments section, Peter mentions that as a child he'd "imagined that Brain couldn't possibly be any person's real name, and so he must have adopted it in order to seem brainy." This, in turn, reminded me of a complaint to the controller of BBC Radio 3. The irate listener had written in demanding to know why on earth an announcer had felt the need to boast about a violin he had in his possession. The listener went on to suggest that, rather than brag about what musical instruments he had, he should just get on with his job of giving details of the music played and of the musicians playing it. It turned out that what the announcer had in fact said was, "Iona Brown - violin." Of course, what this listener had understood was something completely different.

link | so... tell me

21.08.2002 - 100 things, about 100 bloggers, in 100 days...

...And were I to trip and fall my hair would have smashed into thousands of pieces!So, the Yankee Blogger is running a little project which should see all of us get to know one another a little better by the time it's over. Here's my offering below. I won't comment on it as I think it should speak for itself. I will, however comment on the photo I've posted with it. I think it probably needs some explanation! It is, in fact, my first publicity shot from way back in 1985. It's obviously such a mistake - I mean, would you employ this... this... (well, there's no other word for it) this pansy? You might be interested to know that my hairstyle required two cans of hairspray and an hour's worth of back combing to make it stand up like that. Anyway...

100 things...

  1. I was born October 9th 1962.
  2. Uganda gained independence October 9th 1962.
  3. I was born at 6:50 am.
  4. I am an early riser.
  5. My star sign is Libra.
  6. I was born in the year of the Tiger.
  7. I do not believe in astrology.
  8. I was never christened or baptised.
  9. I realised that I was an atheist when I was 8.
  10. I realised that I was a homosexual when I was 10.
  11. I was sexually assaulted by my violin teacher when I was 9.
  12. I started playing the cello shortly after.
  13. I was stung by a bee for the first time when I was 34.
  14. My favourite food is bread.
  15. My favourite drink is milk.
  16. I have one younger brother called Fraser.
  17. My mother was a fan of all things Scots.
  18. My real surname is not Alexander.
  19. My first pet was a tabby cat called Mary Anne.
  20. I used to dress my Action Man up in frocks and make-up.
  21. I bought my first album, Ziggy Stardust, in 1972.
  22. I am 5'11" tall.
  23. I once started training to be a draughtsman.
  24. My father was, for a time, a professional footballer.
  25. I have never learned to drive.
  26. I do not have a middle name.
  27. I am scared of spiders.
  28. I do not speak any language other than English.
  29. I get so excited about flying.
  30. I cry very easily.
  31. I was a professional actor for 12 years.
  32. With little exception, I hate going to the theatre.
  33. My boyfriend is Danish.
  34. Morrissey once held my hand whilst singing, This Charming Man.
  35. I have very little body hair above the waist.
  36. My favourite colours are blue and green.
  37. I used to be an extrovert.
  38. I love reference books.
  39. I find prejudice of any kind very hard to tolerate.
  40. I was once arrested for being drunk and disorderly.
  41. I have one tattoo.
  42. I pick my nose.
  43. I do not bite my nails.
  44. My favorite season is Autumn.
  45. I prefer the American term Fall to Autumn.
  46. I have big feet.
  47. I do not like sunbathing.
  48. As a child I was very bandy.
  49. I once appeared in a comedy sketch with Neil Kinnock.
  50. I love German supermarkets.
  51. My Native American name is Run Like A Lady.
  52. I used to dye my hair auburn.
  53. I have a fascination with old maps.
  54. I do not own a video player.
  55. I am hopeless at keeping in contact with people.
  56. I prefer briefs to boxers.
  57. I love to sing.
  58. I've got a lousy voice.
  59. I used to write for BBC Schools Radio.
  60. I once met Prince Edward while wearing drag.
  61. I do not wear glasses.
  62. My last sight test was over two years ago.
  63. I prefer tea to coffee.
  64. I talk in my sleep.
  65. I walk in my sleep.
  66. I snore.
  67. I left school aged sixteen.
  68. I used to play rugby.
  69. I have never been to the USA.
  70. I do not like Oasis.
  71. I do not like Eminem.
  72. I like wearing pyjamas.
  73. I find intellect sexy in a man.
  74. Sometimes I feel so stupid and ugly.
  75. I have never had an appendectomy.
  76. I have never had my wisdom teeth removed.
  77. I have no operation scars.
  78. My only piercings are aural and nowadays seldom used.
  79. My favourite alchoholic drink is a Margarita.
  80. Tulips are my favourite flower.
  81. I feel most free when cycling.
  82. I always cry at the end of the film, Inn Of The Sixth Happiness.
  83. My favourite perfume is Aramis.
  84. I wish I had a normal name instead of Duncan.
  85. I would like to be remembered for coining a new word.
  86. I have never baked a welshcake.
  87. I have given up smoking more times than I care to remember.
  88. My laptop is called Elsie Dee.
  89. The desktop PC is called Kath O'Dray.
  90. I still haven't fully undergone puberty.
  91. I can fall asleep very suddenly in any location or circumstance.
  92. I have no desire to breed.
  93. I opened my first savings account 3 years ago.
  94. I am bananas about bananas.
  95. I loathe ironing.
  96. I love people.
  97. I like it when it rains.
  98. I don't read books often enough.
  99. I would happily sell my mother for a raspberry and white chocolate chip cookie.
  100. I love my bf with all my heart.

link | so... tell me

20.08.2002 - In brief...

Is he... sozilla? Oh yes, he's... sozilla!Toho, who own all things Godzilla, have threatened to send their lawyers in on blogger, Davezilla, unless he removes his "little dragon guy" graphic. Apparently these big bullies don't like the unauthorised use of the suffix zilla. I don't suppose the prefix God, is protected in the same way? Anyway, if you wanna support Dave, get the Free Davezilla graphic up on your site.

The BBC reports on a new service that'll help you identify all those tunes you can never put your finger on. Just remember who helped you put your finger on it first...!

This is a photo from the BBC regarding an article about... no, not Prince Andrew but John Travolta. Oooo, the resemblance is uncanny. Casting directors please take note for when Hollywood make that all singing and all dancing disco-musical-bio-pic about the life of a minor British royal. Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man: no time to talk.

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19.08.2002 - Highs'n'lows...

What a rollercoaster this life can be, eh kids! My fed up feeling lasted well into Sunday and deepened significantly with the discovery that enetation's servers were down. This meant that my site would not load properly. I thought at first that it must be something I'd done but other enetation users, such as cyberkenny, were taking forever to load aswell. In sheer frustration I have now removed the comments facility from my site. It was fun for that brief and sparkling moment that it lasted but, alack and alas, twas not to be. Martijn has e-mailed me with a suggestion of looking into hosting my own commenting system. Martijn, many thanks but I'm really not very bright and... OK, I'll have a look at it (and probably get the bf to translate it into a language I can understand).

Earlier in the week I'd gone out and bought myself a kneeling chair (more of a perch than a chair - it's supposed to be good for your posture). Well, it might have been wonderful for my posture but my knees have ached ever since I got it. I know what you're all thinking (bitches!) but I'm really not that good on my knees. Anyway, yesterday I took it back to the shop and got a refund. Instead, I've bought this funky little orange number from Habitat. It's on order and should arrive in a week or so. As a kid I'd refuse to wear sensible Clarks shoes like other kids and, instead, demand the highest, toe crushing, bridge pinching platforms money could buy. Little changes.

Today is my first day back in work after a week long break. God, I wish that time spent in work flew by as quickly as time passes when I'm off. I've just thought: I can't remember any of my passwords. Ooops! This happens every time I go on holiday; I'll have to get them reset, making me a really popular guy in certain quarters! Hey Ho...

One story well worth a read has to be Richard's description of making welshcakes from this recipe. He really is quite mad...

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18.08.2002 - Fed up...

Yep. I'm fed up with giving up smoking. I'm fed up with talking about giving up smoking. I'm fed up with the design of this site. So, I thought I can either start smoking or I can change the design of this site. Hope you like it (inspiration via unprotected text) - anyway, let me know what you think.

My comments feature, enetation, is playing silly buggers and my site won't load without it. I'm looking for a new comments provider so email me with any suggestions or leave a comment..!

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17.08.2002 - It's only numbers...

It's all a matter of time according to my Giving Up Smoking e-mail motivator: People often find they've got more spare time on their hands when they give up smoking. A cigarette takes about 6 minutes to smoke, which means that if you used to smoke a packet a day, you've got two extra hours to fill. Well I used to smoke two packets a day so that means I've got four extra hours to fill. Four hours a day! Wow, that equates to two months in the last year spent with a ciggie in my face! My e-mail motivator goes on: Start to learn a musical instrument, decorate the sitting room, enrol in a course. I could write book and still have time to spare. It's not the excess oxygen that's turning me crazy, it's all that extra time I've got on my hands.

Of course we all know that you can't apply simple mathematics like that to your life. It doesn't work that way. Wahlee asked me on what am I spending all the extra cash I'm saving. Again, it doesn't work that way. I'm sure all the other shit in my life will expand to take up the time and expense that used to be burned away by cigarettes. I remember the last time I gave up I didn't feel any better off financially and there still weren't enough hours in the day to do all I needed to get done.

The big thing I did notice was the sense of freedom. By that I mean the freedom from having to call in at the tabacconists on my way home from work. All committed smokers will know what I mean. There's that time late in the evening when you panic because the local shop is about to close; is one packet gonna be enough to see you through the night; what if you have a crisis; what if you can't sleep? That's the big difference I've noticed - freedom from all that worry. I suppose there's all the health benefits also but smokers don't think about those do they?

You may have noticed my comments popping up on certain words. This is something I've been meaning to employ for a while and on Torsdag Simon devoted his post to it. Anyway, thanks for the reminder! And while we're talking about reminders - can everyone go sign Richard's guestmap. It really is a very nice guestmap and if everyone doesn't sign it soon I think he's gonna throw his toys out of his pram.

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16.08.2002 - True...

I'm told that those successful in quitting smoking see it as a lifestyle change, similarly those who are successful in losing weight aren't on quick fix diets but, again, see their new regimen as a lifestyle change. My question is how much am I willing to change my lifestyle? I think that the people behind my Giving Up Smoking e-mail motivator see a greater change for me than I'd anticipated: Sometimes it's easier to avoid the pub for the first couple of weeks of giving up, why don't you suggest a different type of night out to your mates - the cinema, a no-smoking restaurant, ten-pin bowling, a game of football or a jog in the park? I only want to give up smoking; I don't want to start jogging, ten pin bowling, or change heads and become a different person.

Is it my imagination or do the above suggestions to having a drink sound a bit wholesome? They're not real alternatives are they. "I know we said that we'd all meet up at the pub tonight but I was thinking maybe we should try that nice little no-smoking restaurant... no? Well hows about we crash that Tupperware party or... I hear the Salvation Army are looking for volunteers...?" How do I pack it in and remain true to me?

The excess oxygen is still having an effect: yesterday I channelled all my no-smoking energy into dusting and cleaning and tidying and sorting and... God, I was that carried away, I nearly baked a cake! I've traded my Marlboro Man image (only ever in my head) for a bit part in The Stepford Wives. So it seems whether I like it or not, I am changing.

On another note: Elvis died 25 years ago today, or did he? Read one poor soul's truth here. The King is dead. Long live the King.

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15.08.2002 - This used to be my playground (twist)...

From my Giving Up Smoking e-mail motivator yesterday morning: As your bronchial tubes relax, you'll breathe more easily and have more energy. Take the stairs instead of the lift, walk to the shop instead of taking the car, or just go for a stroll around the block at lunchtime, the exercise will help take your mind off cigarettes too. I followed their advice and decided to take a trip to Bristol for the day. And I didn't just walk around the block, I walked and walked; the length and breadth of the city and back again. I've got so much energy. Does anyone need any DIY doing?

I used to live in Bristol; for about two years at the end of the 1980's. I hated living there at the time but now, I quite like visiting every once in a while. The reason I'd gone to live there back then was because I got a job with a theatre company called Avon Touring. I have a few fond memories of my time with them but mostly I feel sad. Sadness permeates my feelings whenever I think back to those times; sadness and loneliness. How can you work as an actor in a touring theatre company and feel lonely? Well, acting is about presenting a front, a mask... call it what you will... and once we'd packed up the show for the evening my main memory is of feeling lost. I must've been in my late twenties and, for whatever reason, I don't think I liked my own company. Consequently I hung out at bars, clubs, pubs, anywhere rather than go home alone and confront whatever it was.

Visits to Bristol are consequently such a mixed bag of feelings. I actually like the place now and find it quite a vibrant city but these feelings sit uneasily with the old ghosts. For some reason, on my visit there yesterday I found myself standing outside the house I used to live in all those years ago; I don't think I've seen it since 1990 when I left. I took this photo yesterday and looking at it now is not easy; it makes me feel so uncomfortable. It's almost like something went on that I've managed to banish to my subconscience ever since. I'm still a bit perplexed as to why I took this detour to my old digs. I don't remember making the decision to go there; I just sort of arrived, took the photo and then walked back to the main street. I really feel that my mind is playing tricks on me at the moment. It could be its new found freedom from the evil nicotine weed or it could be that Richard is indeed right and I am going nuts.

I'll post the other shots of Bristol when I get a moment.

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14.08.2002 - Time for your medication...

Sitting at home on my own yesterday going about my business; I had no idea quite how manic I'd become. It's only when you interact with others that you realise just how tightly your elastic band has been wound up. When I met Sara for lunch, I noticed this look in her eye, as if to say, "What the..?!?" I don't think she got a word in edgeways throughout the meal. And her smoking was no problem for me at all - she could've snorted two lines of coke infront of me and I wouldn't've noticed: I was in la-la land.

When I got home, there waiting for me was my daily e-mail motivator from Giving Up Smoking: Many people find day three the hardest. If you aren't using an NRT product there will be no nicotine left in your body now so withdrawal symptoms are likely to peak. And people spend thousands to feel like this; Christ, by now my poor brain was having trouble coping with these excessive levels of oxygen. DIY trepanists please take note. Reality became a blur and I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between a drowsy high and fidgeting and pacing the flat like a caged animal.

Thanks to everyone (especially Francis, Simon, Rannie, Luca, Kenny, Martijn and, of course, Mr Gumola) for their continued support. Sad to say, still no "mucus and other smoking debris" but when it comes, Richard, my digital camera is charged and at the ready.

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13.08.2002 - If I smoked I'd have a cigarette now...

I've said that to myself once or twice today but not as much as yesterday and no where near as much as I did on Sunday. Yesterday I kept busy by knocking a job application into shape and when my concentration and patience ran out with that, alternately putting up shelves and going for rides on my bike. I feel much better for it already: my sense of smell is beginning to return after a three year absence (and you're right, Peter, it's wonderful) and also my sense of taste (that thing your tongue does as opposed to what gay men do with interior design - that sense was never that highly developed to begin with). Also, I feel like I've got bags more energy - I'm like a big labrador pup around the place, testing the bf's nerves. However, I'm sorry to say I haven't yet noticed my "lungs start to clear out mucus and other smoking debris" which Richard was so looking forward to.

On another note, I love this site (link via Banita Cleopatra Witherspoon) which gives you your name if you'd been born a black woman. "I be tha sassy Eugenia O'Neil. Pleased to meetcha, honey..."

OK back to reality... Later on today I'm going into work to submit this job application and then to meet Sara for something to eat. This will be a big test; sitting in a bar with a smoker and drinking alcohol. Surrounded by other smokers and ashtrays and... and... What do I do with my hands..?

If I smoked I'd have a cigarette. But I don't. So I won't. Rygning forbudt. Dim ysmygu. No smoking.

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12.08.2002 - No smoking zone...

Well, yesterday wasn't the rollercoaster I'd braced myself for. I thought that within the first hour the bf would've had to sedate me heavily to prevent any self harming but my cravings have not been as strong or persistent as I'd expected. And to be honest, yesterday was not that different to any other Sunday. I mean, I didn't go out sky diving to take my mind off the cravings. No, I spent most of the day sat infront of the computer or doing the ironing - my usual haunts and habits on a Sunday. I didn't resort to any nicotine chewing gum either; I thought that I might have needed the odd one or two.

I have to admit that I was a bit tetchy from time to time and there were spells when my concentration was all over the place. Also, I must confess that I'm constantly wanting to nibble on something (no jokes please) and that will be a real test over the coming days and weeks.

I'm now looking forward to see how I get through the rest of today. I'm feeling a little bit fidgety and a bit irritable but nothing more. I need to keep myself occupied. A big thanks to all who've shown support in comments and e-mails - it's appreciated.

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11.08.2002 - No more fags...

Today I gave up cigarettes. There, I've said it! It has to be done. Enough is enough is enough. I am an ex-smoker.

I have given up before. The longest I lasted was about three years. You're probably asking yourself why I started again after all that time. The answer? I got cocky. I thought that taking one here and there from the bf during a stressful week at work wouldn't matter. Before I knew it I was buying them again.

Smoking is akin to alcoholism; once you stop you have to stay stopped and that is a real psychological battle. You have to be wary of that devil whispering in your ear. He's a handsome devil and he's your constant companion through the first few weeks. He's always there gnawing at your will power. To resist him now is comparatively easy; you know that you are at war with him and you are prepared to do battle.

As time goes by he appears less frequently but he never disappears completely. He knows that you are vulnerable. He knows that you think you are not at war anymore. He knows that you are unprepared. He waits for you get a little cocky; he waits for you to call yourself a non-smoker before he comes back to haunt you. And every time he re-appears he comes in a different guise. Sometimes he sweeps over you as a fond memory, filling your senses with a rush and a longing for times gone by. Sometimes he seduces you as a lover, leading you by the hand back into his stylish world. He embraces you and caresses you. He reassures you that everything's going to be alright. He knows what turns you on and he knows your every weakness. He knows exactly which buttons to push and, boy, does he push them.

This is what I can expect over the next few weeks:

Oh God! What am I letting myself in for? I see friends running for cover as my nightmare unfolds. However, it has to be worth it; this is the timetable of benefits:

I have fears about giving up; fears about becoming fat, boring and of losing confidence without a cancer stick to prop me up. I have fears about missing out on those oh-so-important, off the record chats we have in work over a cigarette and I fear becoming such a conforming, goody two shoes. I don't want to become one of those prissy ex-smokers of the you smoke I choke brigade. I've always believed that smokers have rights too. But I've got to kick this. To those of you who are considering the same, this site is quite useful in helping win the battle.

I have every confidence in winning the battle but as for who will win the war; we'll have to wait and see...

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10.08.2002 - Well and truly blino'd...

As of today, I'm off work for a week. I've got nothing planned other than to take it easy and enjoy a relaxing time over the next couple of days. At the moment all I want to do is stay in bed for the entire time I'm off; instead of a duvet day I could have a duvet week.

I feel completely exhausted. The time I'm taking off is a result of overtime I worked over a two week period at the end of July... and there's been little let up since. Until I'd arranged this break, my next scheduled time off would've been the first two weeks of October which I'm planning to spend with the bf in Denmark. I did consider going away somewhere this time (possibly to Copenhagen) but then I realised that the stress of booking and travelling, given the way I feel, wouldn't be worth it. Also, I feel a bit strange about spending time with the bf's family without him being there - as well as I know them and feel completely at ease in their company, it just wouldn't feel right. So, it's a vacation in Cardiff which, from where I'm sitting right now, sounds absolutely wonderful.

(Following Francis' lead) The Welsh word of the day is blino. It means to become tired.

ps I've added a comments facility so you can now let me know your honest opinions...

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09.08.2002 - Remembrance of things past...

I don't normally do the nostalgia bit but that airing cupboard clean out I did the other day has led me down memory lane. As I said in yesterday's post, some of the things I didn't clear out were press cuttings from my time as an actor. Today I re-read some of these from my first professional acting job in 1986 with a company called Gay Sweatshop.

The play I did with them was called Compromised Immunity, the first British play to examine the AIDS crisis. It may seem an odd thing to some of you now; a gay political theatre company but remember, this was the mid 80's and Thatcherism was at its height. It was a strange and exiting time to be in London and involved in such a project. The London book shop Gay's The Word was locked in a court case with HM Customs, Chris Smith had just become the first MP to come out, AIDS hysteria was rampant and, behind the scenes, Section 28 was being formulated by the right wing. There was no middle ground, you either supported Thatcher or you were against her. Liberals were forced to make a choice or remain invisible.

Each night after the show I'd hit town and drink myself down from my post show high. I remember spotting Derek Jarman in Heaven and also meeting Julian clary. I'm almost sure I saw Freddie Mercury there once but I was so pissed - I'm not sure now about that one. Diana Ross had a big hit with Chain Reaction, The Communards, whose eponymous album, provided the soundtrack to our play, were riding high, The Smiths released The Queen Is Dead and there were countless singles released from the film, Absolute Beginners. Walking through the West End I remember seeing the usual conservative shows such as Les Miserables and Cats but I remember also seeing The Normal Heart and Torch Song Trilogy and La Cage Aux Folles. Not that these shows were political in the sense that we were but they did provide an alternative to the 'boy meets girl' content that filled every other theatre.

After several London runs of Compromised Immunity in different theatres throughout '86, we took the play on a national tour in the Spring of '87. We played at every major town up and down the country. I remember arriving at our hotel in Manchester and being helped with my bags by this polite young lad. I'd assumed he was a member of the hotel's staff. I realised too late that he was just some wierdo loitering in the lobby. He forced his way into my room and talked at length about how he got his sexual kicks. I won't go into the details but the story ended with him cutting the chicken's head off as he reached orgasm. And then at our digs in Derby the landlady was so embarrassed by the company's name that when forced to refer to us (and she did her best to avoid this) she called us Grey Sweetshop or Grey Sweatshirt. She would also let herself into our rooms unannounced early in the morning, just to make sure that we weren't up to anything. When challenged she'd point at the tray with the kettle and tea and coffee on it and blurt out, "Replenishments?"

This was the Spring of a General Election and emotions were running high. Everywhere we went we were headlines, not for any artistic merit inherent in the play or our performances but because usually we were hijacked by local right wing groups as a reason to cut tax payer's money to the theatre that'd booked us. I remember arriving in Exeter and walking straight into a press conference where the local Tory candidate could not bring himself to utter the word 'gay', so insensed was he that the perverts had come to town and, to make matters worse, funded by public money. The blood vessels stood out on his neck and I thought he'd have a stroke before the interview ended.

Looking back through my rose tinted specs at 1986 and 1987, I get a warm glow inside but I can't help thinking of that chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."

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08.08.2002 - Out with the old...

At the bf's insistence, I cleared all my stuff from the airing cupboard yesterday afternoon. I've never used it as an airing cupboard in the nine years I've lived here; since day one it's been a dumping ground for stuff that I can't quite bring myself to throw out.

With a heavy heart I set about it and the question that kept going through my mind was Why did I not throw this rubbish out earlier? Boxes and carrier bags of old train tickets, 6 year old restaurant bills, bank statements from banks I no longer bank with, minutes from meetings I can't remember attending, an instruction manual for a washing machine I no longer have, a santa hat, 1st drafts of scripts I once worked on, Equity journals, broken briefcases, various electrical cables, postcards from people I can't remember, the back of a cornflake box, etc etc. There were some bags I was afraid to look in, I just binned them straight away.

So distant were the memories they evoked, it was like looking through someone else's belongings. Some I didn't recognise as having once belonged to me. All in all I filled six large bin bags with this flotsam and jetsam from a past life.

Of course there was the occasional item, even in this ruthless exorcision, that I couldn't bring myself to part with: old newspaper cuttings of plays I'd appeared in, some photographs I thought I'd lost long ago and this postcard of an old magazine. I've adapted it for the redirect page on my old site. Just click on the image to see the result.

Another old thing to be got rid of is the chairman of the Commission for Racial Equality, Gurbux Singh. The BBC reports that after some appalling behaviour, where he threatened a police officer at a cricket match last month, he was yesterday fined £500 at Bow Street magistrates court. He has since resigned his position but won't go away empty handed. No, he will get a six figure pay off to soften the blow. Now, how many other people forced into resignation would receive a handsome handshake like that? Most people would be forced to leave under a cloud without a penny and with little prospect of finding employment with a slur like that on their employment record.

... and didn't I see the word equality in his former title somewhere?

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07.08.2002 - Reality's slow dawn...

The Earth Summit's got something to do with the environment, right? So why has King Tony decided not to send Michael Meacher, his most experienced Minister of State for the Environment, on this Jolly?

It's bloody daft; Meacher is ideally positioned to speak with authority at Johannesburg's bun fight. He's the one person in the Cabinet who knows a thing or three about the environment; he's held the post since 1997. He's a seasoned politician and the only Tony Benn supporter to make it into King Tony's inner court. He's no shrinker when it comes to difficult and potentially unpopular environmentally friendly ideas. He's already got the car lobby's backs up with his proposed congestion levy...

...Ahhh, I see - that's why!

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06.08.2002 - In his anecdotage again...

Following on from the Hailsham + Helpmann, Geilgud and Frank Bough anecdotes, here's another:

How much truth there is in this I wouldn't like to say. It was told to me by a friend of someone involved in the production. But anecdotes like this are never lessened by how fabricated they might be; they're good stories.

My mother (a Lancaster fan) still refuses to even entertain the slightest notion that this story just might be based on anything resembling fact.

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05.08.2002 - It's the end of the world as we know it...

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

...and so goes Robert Frost's Fire And Ice. The way that this planet will come to an end has been pondered greatly down the ages. Most of this planet's religions and mythologies have some story or parable which describes the big crunch - usually brought about by our own wickedness. These tales have slowly evolved and have been adapted according to the perceived threats of that age.

Through the 20th Century the fashions and trends as to how this might come about have changed more rapidly. All you have to do is look behind the themes presented in many of the books and films produced over the last 100 years or so. Everything from giant killer plants to meteors have been cited as causes for the final countdown. Sex and drugs and rock'n'roll have all been targeted and not forgetting alcohol and the soviet threat that dominated the 1950's.

Probably, the most popular (certainly, the one that seems to recur most often) is by our own hand rather than some external force. Once again, despite the sophistication of the age we live in, religion and the perception of who is good and who is evil plays a big part. Whether you're homosexual, jewish, muslim, capitalist, communist or feminist; there's someone, somewhere who sees you as the ultimate threat to the fabric of his (or her) society. This xenophobia seems a long way off from that idyllic multicultural world present on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. We ain't boldly going anywhere.

The Middle East seems a good bet at the moment. The fuse is already burning: 13 killed in Israel today and the Israeli government's response is to pull out of the talks and start blowing up the homes of the Hamas bombers in the (futile) hope that this will act as a deterrent. Duh! Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, Bush is hell bent on finishing off the job his dad started in Iraq.

How, when and, for that matter, why is anyone's guess. One thing's certain: it will end some time. As Exit Mundi declares, "Isn't life a bitch? The world is going to end. You don't even have to be a religious fundamentalist to see that's true."

Ladies and Gentlemen, place your bets please.

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04.08.2002 - Lucky dip...

A big Happy Birthday to you, I hope you have a lovely day. E-mail me with my punishment. Bad cheetah!

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03.08.2002 - For forty days...

That is the period of rain you get if it rains on St Swithin's Day, July 15th. As I remember, it did not rain on that day but this is Wales and such old wives tales have no bearing on the weather since it always rains in Wales. In fact the only difference between Summer and Winter in Wales is warm rain or cold rain. While others may be sweltering in the heat, we're still waiting for the summer to arrive.

Predictably, it's raining this weekend because it's my first work free weekend in four weeks. Perhaps, instead of an unpredictable long range weather forcast I should just publish my holidays and days off for the next 6 months and take it from there.

A feature in The Independent today discusses this year's typical British Summer weather. It also has a list of interesting facts about the rain to amaze your friends with and break the ice at parties.

Having now had my moan, I must say how wonderful it was to walk through the drizzle one lunchtime this week after a stressful morning in work. Everyone else seemed to scuttle from doorway to doorway; the scene was a sea of umbrellas. Me, I just strolled down the street in my shirt sleeves soaking up the cool and the damp. It was so calming and, as Woody Allen said, it certainly did wash my "memories off the sidewalk of life". My mental state could equally have seen me end the afternoon dancing on a beach, like Baby Jane Hudson; icecream in hand and singing to myself.

I've written a letter to daddy, the address is heaven above...

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02.08.2002 - It's not clever and it's not funny...

I read on Jerwin's blog today that Jamiroquai frontman Jay Kay has been less than polite to the Welsh. When asked by an S4C film crew for a greeting to Welsh Fans, he responded, "Fuck Off! I hate the Welsh!" A spokesperson for the star later said, "We are sure Jay Kay doesn't really hate everyone who is Welsh - he is probably just joking around."

Did you know that Jay Kay is welsh for short arsed twat - "just joking around."

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01.08.2002 - A little of what you fancy does you good...

...Or so the old Marie Lloyd music hall song goes. Whether patients trying to visit the internet site of Queens Hospital in Burton Upon Trent would agree, is another matter.

Reuters reports that instead of seeing the hospital website, visitors were treated to hardcore German pornography. Now I realise that the Government is striving to make numerous improvements to the NHS but this, I think, is taking things a little too far.

The mistake seems to have come about due to a mix up in reallocating the hospital's website to a German company. I've not heard of any fatalities brought about by the trauma to patients and it's probably still to soon to assess any possible health benefits.

I can confirm that the hospital now has a new website which isn't nearly so racey but it does boast numerous departments and services in contrast to the recent heavy emphasis on gynæcology.

Oooo, Matron, what sauce..!

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