Saturday, July 24, 2004
So this is Berlin. I’m having a fantastic weekend here with D. The city is so spacious….And so green. It seems cool, much more chilled than I was expecting. Yesterday we hung out on the imported beach – chatting away and catching up on lots of thoughts. D is great to talk to – he really is. Am surprised at how many foreigners there are. Which is a great asset to any city – am I’m not talking about the obvious sights, but just about in general… Yet as a tourist myself, I would have welcomed meeting more (sexy) Germans, and bumping into fewer French/American/Brits…. Must make the city much more fun to live in though!
A surprising thing (at least to me) is that it somehow it seems like an empty city. As if it used to be a city, then all the people moved out as they rebuilt it - and that most of the people didn’t find their way back. The streets are wide and despite being in “Berlin Mitte” – a central district, I’ve often been the only person in the street at any one time. But it’s cool. I’m here with D, a very special friend, and he’s been trying to convince me to love this city and move here…
It’s super clean, and today as well as seeing the Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag we hung out in the Sony Centre which is a huge modern complex which seems to give a sense of the direction this city is going in. There are loads of cute little squares, which I didn’t except – a bit like in Rome, and which give it lots of personality and charm
I’m totally underwhelemed by the gay scene, but tonight’s Saturday night, so we’ll see what that brings us. Although to be fair, last night we did go to a nice bar which had comfy sofas – so although it wasn’t at all intense, it was suitably civilised and pleasant. Anyway, off out soon, so I’d better get going!
Posted by ThatP @ 10:32 PM GMT [Link] [11 comments]
Thursday, July 15, 2004
The evidence has started to pile in – which leads me to this:
“Forgive me friends, for I have sinned. I appear to have broken singleton rule # 563. For this I am deeply sorry.”
First came an e-mail – it was there waiting for me when I woke up and struggled to my computer this morning, hoping to find a comforting message or two. Instead the e-mail from a mate informed me of a movie-plan we’d made. Apparently I’d suggested that we meet tonight at 10:30pm. That’s this evening, a weekday! A weekday on the busiest most exhausting day at work of the week! Why on earth did I suggest meeting late on a Thursday?
For some reason when we spoke last night I’d asked to see him Friday, but since he was busy then, I’d offered Thursday evening instead. But then, realising that I already have dinner plans in Wapping tonight, I’d said I could only meet at 10:30. I haven’t quite figured out why he agreed (I think he was sober), but he did. Finding out this morning, in the mid-headache-filled waking up stage, that I have to be in Brixton at 10:30 tonight was not really what I would call ideal – but I comforted myself with a big glass of water and ploughed on.
The paracetamol seemed to take care of things fairly quickly and I once the morning was over (and I’d got back into productive-P mode) I thought I was safe and dry. But no! I’ve just received a text message from Barbara-darling, and apparently I proposed to her. I don’t even remember talking to her, let alone proposing. Thank god she knows I’m gay. Can’t imagine how awful it could have been if she didn’t know and thought I fancied her! I checked, and at least I didn’t try to make any plans to meet with her – but she just laughed when I asked her what we had talked about. Shucks.
A slight source of comfort is that as I got ready for work, I found my wallet in the front room – and not in the bed room (where I presumably made the calls from!)…. So that’s one potential disaster that didn’t happen. Or perhaps that’s a shame; I might have all sorts of goodies being delivered if I’d had my Amex with me!)
I remember being very hungry during the night, and wishing McDonald’s delivered. I have this awful feeling that I might, just possibly, have called up the operator and tried to convince her that it’d be a really cool thing if she organised such a delivery service. Given that I can’t remember any 118 numbers at the best of times, and that I detest MaccyD’s, it was probably just a weird dream I had, rather than something I actually did – but the possibility that it just *might* have happened, even if it’s REALLY REALLY unlikely, does make me cringe. Shame on me P!
In a rather enlightened moment I must have called and left a long message on Mr Q’s answer phone, asking him to e-mail me certain pieces of information I was afraid of forgetting. And true to form, he e-mailed them to me. I was delighted at that stroke of genius. I am Mr No-short-term-memory; given that I didn’t remember making the call, I would indeed not have remembered that when I was still sober I had organised certain things for later in the week. Sadly, given on the one hand, the completeness of Mr Q’s e-mail, and on the other hand, the absence of any notes on tonight’s movie plans, I can only conclude that I made the call to my “PA” first. – Which leaves me without any documentation about the most embarrassing calls.
What I find most alarming about having broken singleton rule # 563 “never drink-and-dial”, is that between now and getting my itemised phone bill I have absolutely no way of knowing *how many* other calls I made last night – how many people am I accidentally going to stand up? This is not good. Can I make a humble appeal to all my friends to inform me of any plans I suggested or made late last night? (Mind you, my dearest friends), if I just made a fool of myself, rather than a plan, I’m not entirely certain I need to be reminded of the fact! I’m being honest and open – be gentle, OK? ;-)
Right, now that I’ve appropriately pleaded, it’s time to get back to writing my lines:
I must never ever drink and dial
I must never ever drink and dial
I must never ever drink and dial
I must never ever…..
Posted by ThatP @ 05:20 PM GMT [Link] [4 comments]
