Escapism

I've just done something I don't do all that often, reading back a series of blog posts I made over the course of a fortnight a couple of years or so ago. It was about six months before my life imploded, and, self-evidently, not a very happy time. Sadly, the main feeling I got was that life was shit then, and it's shit now. So I'm going to escape to the illusory, but comforting warmth of 'Xander-world'. Again.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Chilly and cuties

I haven't been working today, so, as is my wont, I came up to town to meander. It took me a while to get going this morning, though, because the view from my window made it obvious that it was cold outside, clear skies and a heavy ground frost in evidence. Once the sun came up, though, it started looking like much too nice a day to waste, so I got myself in gear and into the outside world. It's stayed blue-skied and sunny all day, if distinctly chilly, and, now that the sun has gone, another frosty night looks likely. The bright weather, though, has brought the eye candy out in force - I've seen more cute boys today than I have for quite some time. One in particular, outside Euston station, was - even though I hate using this adjective in this context, but nothing I can think of would fit better - simply beautiful. Cold outside, but a warm glow within.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Back to mundanity

Back to work, after my huge, expansive, two day Christmas break (and yes, I'm well aware that was two days more than some people got, I was staying in a hotel and eating out, after all), and back to the prospect of being on my own again when I get back to 'domicile-ville' this evening, K having gone on her way to Shropshire to see her boyfriend this morning. Still, on the basis of being grateful for whatever good things do come my way, it was a thoroughly enjoyable Christmas with my girl - the hotel was fine, the Christmas lunch in my 'London local', and, indeed, the 'full English' in the hotel restaurant yesterday morning were very good, and, best of all, the company was as congenial as I could have wished. When K comes up to live with me next summer, I know it's not going to be wall to wall fun and frivolity - I'll be working, and she'll be embarking on her A-Levels - but, compared to the way my life has been for the past couple of years, it's going to be so much better.
In connection with the forthcoming move, we spent quite some time yesterday roaming around the northernmost section of Greater London - another advantage of metropolitan life, public transport on Boxing Day! - reconnoitering prospective places to live. One area has come out as a distinct favourite in the race, within the Oystercard zone, and with 24/7 transport options, but still only a twenty minute bus ride from K's new school, so that's where I'll be concentrating my house-hunting (or very much more likely, flat-hunting) efforts after New Year. We did go and look at the 'just outside Greater London' town where the school is again, but its lack of night buses or trains will probably mean that we won't end up living there. That part of the trip did have, for me, a little collateral advantage, though, as I enjoyed one of my very few and far between interactions with a cute boy - I was waiting outside a shop while K was buying some toiletries, and a cutie whose family was also evidently in the same shop asked me to keep an eye on a pair of electric scooters he was standing guard over while he briefly went into the building. I obliged him, of course - when, as I said to K as she came out of the shop, am I ever going to say 'no' to a cute boy!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Yuletide

Well, it's almost here again, another Christmas Day. My girl and I are comfortably settled into a rather nice hotel room, and the first evening of our festive season has been very pleasant. I hope that wherever you are, and whether you celebrate the day in a spiritual or secular way, you all have a happy, peaceful and thoroughly nice Christmas.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Sex

It's just occurred to me that if I'd decided, at 12, to be celibate and live alone for the rest of my life, virtually all of my troubles would have been non-existent. Not for the first time, hindsight proves its status as the most useless commodity known to man.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The answer is blowing in the wind

At the eleventh hour, it looked like my daughter's trip up here for Christmas might have been in some doubt, with some very wet and windy weather predicted to play havoc with travel arrangements, but trains are still running, albeit very late in some cases, and it seems that the worst of the weather, at least for this part of the country, has passed, so, unless something completely out of the ordinary crops up, K should be able to get here tomorrow, especially as she won't need to travel until early afternoon. It would have been a bitter pill indeed if our plans had fallen apart at this stage, but, thankfully, that doesn't look likely now. My day at work today, given that it could, in a worst case scenario, have been a complete nightmare, wasn't actually too bad, and I've managed to get back to 'domicile-ville' without undue delay, so I'm now in the pub, indulging in a little liquid entertainment, just for a change! Well, it is nearly Christmas, after all!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

I doubt he'd get my vote

I've been gobsmacked by the outlandishness of things said by the religious right so often that I'm almost becoming inured to it. But, once in a while, something crops up that takes my disbelief to new heights. Things like this. I don't care if you're gay, straight, or have a deep and meaningful relationship with your pet anaconda, if you're tempted to vote for people like Kilgore, you should be instantly disenfranchised, on grounds of insanity, if for no other reason.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Hopes, but fears too

I have to admit to never having been much of a optimist. Almost every time, it seems, that something good happens, or even threatens to happen, in my life, something else comes along to spoil the party. In particular, and well-documented here, the last two years have been particularly difficult, with the breakdown and eventual end of my marriage and all that went with it last year, then this year's health problems, and, just when I'd got back to something approaching my normal self, the nightmare of September 21/22 when it looked as though what little was left of my life had collapsed into ruins (and, frankly, it still might - the Damoclean sword is still there, if a certain person chooses to wield it). Now, as 2013 approaches its end, things seem to be looking up again, with K having won her place at the school of her choice for her A-Levels, and the prospect of my girl coming to live with me next summer. I'm looking forward to that, very much, but I can't seem to quell the nagging doubts that it's all too good to be true, and that something will intervene to throw it all into disarray once more. The glass is at halfway, but half-full, or half-empty? I wish I knew.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Obstruction

You can't please everyone, of course, and a rather sour little episode this morning was certainly evidence of that adage. After the interview on Tuesday, and the subsequent good news yesterday, there was still one element of the process that needed to be done, and done straight away - posting the acceptance slip for K's place at the new school back to them. They needed the paperwork in hand by Monday, and, given the vagaries of the Christmas post and the nearness of the end of the school term, it really needed to be posted today. The problem was that K isn't very well at all - she was already well on her way into a nasty cold on Tuesday, and, by today, she was effectively confined to bed - she had almost completely lost her voice, amongst other symptoms, when I needed, as events panned out, to speak to her this morning. Those events stemmed from a phone call from my ex not long after I'd got in from work this morning - she started by complaining about K's attitude, how she hadn't cleaned her room, typical 'parent of a teenager' stuff, but the subtext soon became apparent, namely that she didn't want to do anything to help K's application, it was my business and K's, nothing to do with her. Given that a parental signature was required on the acceptance slip. and I was, of course, 200 miles away from the relevant piece of paper, it looked as though my ex was going to try to 'veto' the whole process. When I pulled her up on it, by reminding her what she'd said herself only a few days ago, about not wanting K to go, she hung up on me and refused to answer the phone when I tried to call back. The upshot of it was that I had to ring K on her mobile and effectively tip her out of her sick bed to prevail upon her mother to sign on the dotted line and then go out and post the letter herself. I was thoroughly annoyed by my ex's attitude - I can understand that she isn't happy about the prospect of being left on her own, I know all too well what that's like, because it's effectively been my situation for almost two years, I've probably only spent, in total, around three or four weeks' worth of days with K in that time, but for her to seemingly be prepared to torpedo K's chances of getting the education that's right for her just so she isn't alone struck me as unforgivably selfish. For the most part, our divorce and its aftermath have been reasonably amicable, particularly in respect of K's welfare, so this morning has left a particularly nasty taste in the mouth. At least the outcome, of the acceptance slip finding its way into the local postbox, was the right one.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

She's in!

I've had an e-mail from the college where K went for her interview yesterday - and they've offered her a place! It's conditional on her achieving an easily atttainable target, for her, of 5 A*-C grades in her GCSEs, and our moving into the catchment area, which will be dealt with at the beginning of next month. I rang her with the news a little while ago, which, predictably enough was somewhat (!) well received. I think the only person who was, or even could be, comparably pleased is me, of course!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A big day

Big in a number of ways, but, barring any unforeseen hiccups, a successful one. K had her interview at the college where she wants to do her A-Levels, and was, in all but the bare words, offered a place. K, needless to say, was thrilled, and I'm very pleased for her, because she's driven much of the process herself, more than impressive for a 15 year old. The only condition she'll have to fulfil is to live within the catchment area, which is, obviously, my part of the equation. I was actually in on the interview - I wasn't expecting to be, but I was invited in by the assistant principal who was the interviewer, so I was able to apprise him of the 'domestic situation', as well as prompting K to mention a couple of her accomplishments that nerves had pushed from her mind. So, after the holiday season, I'll be settling down to some serious flat hunting, probably in North London, although the actual town where the college is situated is a possibility, the only major problem being that getting to work from there on a Sunday morning would be difficult. Any such practical issues are far outweighed, however, by the fact that it really does look as though, from midsummer next year, my girl will be living with me for at least two years. To say I'm pleased is one of the understatements of the year.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Yeah, well, actually he is!!!

K's new boyfriend that is. Absolutely *^%@$£+ gorgeous, that is. My daughter has achieved one of my lifetime ambitions - having a megacute, blond boyfriend. I'm so bloody jealous!!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

End of an era

As someone at work this morning said. What era? Well, today marks the last time I, and the others who I work with most regularly, will be doing one of our double shift Sundays, as our new roster, compliant with the revised rostering principles handed down from company HQ, comes into force at the end of the month. There's been much talk from the upper echelons in the company about dealing with 'excessive fatigue', making it sound like there's some concern for the workforce, but, in reality, I suspect that it has more to do with fear of ambulance chasing lawyers should there be an incident which could be traced back to shift patterns. If it was really about 'fatigue', I wouldn't be finding myself working four extra Sundays in each thirty week roster cycle, as I will be from January. How can working all those extra weekends be seen as less fatiguing? It doesn't, I suppose, matter to those who have drawn up and implemented the policy, because they don't work weekends anyway. Cynical, moi?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Links in a chain

I'm in my 'London local', for what might be the last time before K and I come here for lunch on Christmas Day, and I've just been handed a glass which has impelled me to write a post which I evaded, in a way, earlier this week. It's a San Miguel glass (although that's not what I'm drinking), and it occurred to me that the last time I drank from a similar receptacle was on the night of the meltdown with my cousin, 10, or is it 11, weeks ago today. The reason I might have blogged about him earlier in the week was a dream, rather a vivid dream, of my being in bed with a younger, but past the age of consent, version of him. But it wasn't an erotic dream, in the usual sense of that phrase, all that was going on was cuddles and endearments. I'm not a great believer in 'interpreting' dreams, to find meanings beyond the literal, but I do think that dreams can be a continuation of waking thought processes, and that's what I think was going on in this instance. I've said before that I consider my cousin to be the greatest love of my life, but he was (is) straight, so a sexual relationship was never going to be viable. I would, though, had it been possible for him, been perfectly happy to have spent the rest of my life with him in a non-sexual partnership. This Christmas will be the first, as far as I can remember, since 1979 that I won't be speaking to him. So much loss.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The new dark ages

Where we seem to be heading if the forces of reaction, especially their religious contingent, have their way. Two stories, both referred to in this post, which I've seen in the last 24 hours and which I find thoroughly disheartening. Another report I saw regarding the Australian situation said that 27 couples are going to have their marriages annulled in the wake of that particular court ruling. Disgusting, as far as I'm concerned. The right are very fond of screaming 'judicial activism' when any court hands down a judgement that shows the slightest hint of being 'progressive'. I haven't seen any such outcry this time. Why am I not surprised?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It's still there

Work, of course. Actually, it wasn't too bad a shift to return to after my extended break, which I was getting very comfortable with, so I shouldn't complain - but I'm going to anyway! I'm sure there's some sort of work ethic I'm supposed to ascribe to, but, on the whole, I'd much rather be a member of the 'leisured classes'. The 'idle rich' would be best, but even the 'idle poor' appeals more than the hamster wheel!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Well, that's pretty much it

The end of my time off that is - I'll be getting up at 'stupid o'clock' in the morning to head back to work. It's also been the only day of my 16 days off that I haven't left 'domicile-ville', because I had some domestic-ish things to do. I did take myself out to lunch in the local Wetherspoons, though, which was acceptable enough, but, by the time I'd done some shopping and was ready to head back to my accommodation, I was starting to feel rather fed up. Just to prove how trivial things can change a mood, though, within an hour or so, I was feeling distinctly more cheerful - firstly, after deciding to catch the bus back from the town centre because my hand is still very sore, and not conducive to carrying a heavy bag of shopping, I got a free ride because the ticket machine on the vehicle wasn't working, and then, for the first time ever, I heard one of my favourite songs, Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys, played on the radio. Good old Planet Rock! No-one else was in the building, so I turned it up very loud! I'm easily pleased, sometimes!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Well, he is

Nice, I suppose, to be right once in a while. After speaking to K just now, in relation to something my ex said during our lengthy conversation last night, she's confirmed that her new boyfriend is bi. That isn't, of course, remotely a problem for me, but I've advised my girl to, shall we say, tread delicately on the subject with her mother. This could turn out to be the proverbial 'tangled web'.

Midnight edit: I'm in the mood to avoid ambiguity, so, before the self-appointed moral guardians leap in, a little clarification - the 'tangled web' I referred to will never include me, because, even if I could, and that's not conceivable given the old, fat me, I would never try to come between K and her boyfriend. And even if it was possible, he's of legal age, so the only issue would be consent, which, for me, is an absolute prerequisite.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Articulacy after the event

Ever had the experience of knowing what you wanted to say, but not being able to find the right words? When I was out with my friend yesterday, I lightheartedly mentioned the accusation of my being 'a nice guy' made while I was carousing with my work colleagues last Friday, and how I knew it wasn't true. When he kindly suggested that it actually was true, I couldn't find a way to properly explain my assertion. Now, more than 24 hours later, I've organised my thoughts sufficiently to express what I was trying to convey. That there's just too much darkness inside, darkness born of who I am and what I want, but also a product of the way the world views me and those like me, for me ever to be considered 'nice'. Even, or maybe especially, by myself.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Eventful

Yesterday proved to be interesting, in more ways than one. The best part of it was meeting up with a good friend in London, and an enjoyable get-together it certainly was - visiting, food, drink, conversation, all extremely congenial. Then discussions of a different sort, as I spent the best part of an hour, most of my journey back to 'domicile-ville', on the phone to my ex, and then to my daughter. My ex seems to be having more problems than usual around realising that our daughter, while still not totally 'grown-up', is far closer to being an adult than a child these days. I can't claim to be blemish-free in the 'letting go' process, but it's something all parents have to come to terms with, the acceptance that your offspring is an autonomous individual with their own views, aspirations, character, that they have their own life, in short, and that's exactly as it should be. I don't think anything was fully resolved in the conversation, but I hope that my ex, in particular, will understand what's necessary, however little she might want it to happen, but I've also asked my daughter to try to help make the process as painless as possible. Either side of that phone call, there was another airing of views, this one in cyberspace, but one which was never going to end in any sort of agreement, except agreement to disagree, perhaps. Ultimately, I am who I am, have been that person for a very long time, and can't change that, because if I could, I would have, long since. That said, though, my sexuality doesn't mean that I can't live as 'legal' a life as anyone else, or that I shouldn't have the right to live that life, so long as I comply with the law. And I still find the seeming assumption that being attracted to boys means that I don't possess a shred of morality or self-control extremely annoying. The final incident of the day is the one that might have the most consequences, short-term, at least. I contrived to slip on a drink someone had thrown on the floor on my way back to my accommodation, and collided with a wall with my outstretched fingers. I don't know whether I've broken any bones, but my hand is very sore this morning. And, needless to say, it's my right hand, and I'm very right-handed. I've already found, in the few things I've needed to do this morning, a considerable degree of awkwardness. This injury could be a pain, figuratively as well as literally.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Not everyone

“We cannot take away someone’s rights because they are different. We cannot take away their right to breathe, right to eat or right to start a family. We must allow everyone to live as is natural to them.”

A quote I found in a blog post this morning, apparently said by Israel's president about marriage equality. And I couldn't help but feel the irony, having not long woken from a dream where I was forced to make arrangements to leave the country after being 'outed' by my attraction - just attraction, not action - to a cute boy. Some are definitely 'less equal than others'.

Love & best wishes to all

Sammy B

Chapter 11

That chapter of that story. The one that always turns me inside out, makes me cry like almost nothing else has ever made me cry in, certainly, my adult life. And I've just read it again. And, yes....

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Superfluity

Overheard just now, and from the book of 'the bleeding obvious' (Fawlty Towers reference there!), from the team leader in the pub to one of her underlings, as they were lighting candles to put on the various tables - 'Please don't burn the pub down'. If he couldn't work that out for himself, unless he's an inveterate pyromaniac, I think their recruitment policies might need some attention!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Faces. And a misconception

I'm up in town, just for a change, and, as well as it being very busy (or maybe because it was so busy, law of averages, and all that!), there's been plenty of eye candy on view again. Some have been more notable than others, though, for a variety of reasons. It began as I made my way out of Vauxhall station, heading for my first bus of the day - there was a boy of 10 or 11 who threw me back more than 40 years in a heartbeat, because he bore such a close resemblance to one of my best friends when I was that kind of age. I hadn't thought about Paul for, literally, decades until that moment - we lost touch after going to different senior schools - but this morning's boy brought back quite a few nice memories. The 'resemblance' theme has characterised the whole day, really - the cutest boy I've seen today looked more than a little like Jonathan Scott-Taylor as he was in Damien - Omen 2, albeit a fair-haired version (the actor's natural hair colour, from what I've read), while a few minutes ago in my 'London local' I saw a girl in her late teens who looked very like one of our group of friends that used to socialise at weekends when we were doing our A-Levels. The other face that really made an impression was seen while I was on the bus coming down here - a heartmeltingly cute little boy (and I mean little, he couldn't have been more than 5, and I mean cute in 'Grandma-speak, not 'boylover-speak'!), who most certainly wouldn't have looked out of place on a chocolate box!
The titular misconception happened towards the end of last night's session in Camden, when one of our number - and the youngest member of our staff - referred to me as 'a nice guy'. I might be a lot of things, but 'nice' isn't one of them! Put it down to the callowness of youth, or a bit too much alcohol, or probably both!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Dilemma

I used to be indecisive....but now I'm not so sure! I'm definitely uncertain about today, that much I can say. It's the 'works Christmas do', or as close as anyone can arrange to one, in the face of shift work, this afternoon and evening, up in London. I've been working for the equivalent outings since I moved to my current job, but, of course, I'm still on leave this time around, so I'm able to go. What I can't decide is whether I should. If the attendees are similar to last year's bash, which was in Brighton, there are a number, maybe three or four, who I wouldn't mind having a few drinks with, but there are others who I suspect, particularly given the tongue-loosening potential of alcohol, could very well engender considerable friction, or even lead to me managing to out myself. It would only take something like a bout of 'Tom Daley baiting' to set things off. I've got a few more hours to decide what to do, and I'll almost certainly be up in town later in any case. Anyone got a reliable crystal ball I can borrow?!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

No more drama, thankfully

After yesterday's to-ing and fro-ing around K's school application, which was about as much fun, and as productive, as trying to plait sawdust in front of an industrial strength fan, things fell far more readily into place today. Despite a little more typically teenage procrastination, and another (fairly subtle) paternal boot up the backside, K confirmed that she had e-mailed her application form, but couldn't make next week's interview, because she has an assessment that counts towards one of her GCSE exams that day - in Drama, how could it be anything else! One phone call to the school sorted everything out, though - they confirmed they've received the e-paperwork (if that's not an oxymoron!), and we arranged a revised interview date, for the following week, which K can go to without a problem. Even my ex, when I rang to update her, seemed more amenable to the arrangements than she had been yesterday. I just hope no more spanners will find their way into the works in the next ten days.
I was up in West London during the aforementioned calls, but the weather was starting to look decidedly non-user friendly, windy and with very threatening dark clouds, so I decided to make an early exit back to 'domicile-ville'. The first leg of the return journey was by bus towards Clapham Junction. The route took in South Kensington, almost always, in my experience, highly fertile 'cutie-spotting' territory, certainly during the day, and my timing was definitely good today, because the French school there had just ended their day. There were at least half a dozen 'stunners' on view, including a gorgeous, dark-haired 12-ish boy I'd seen on a different bus route in the area a few months back. Not a bad end to the afternoon, I have to say!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It's started

On the evidence of my 'London local', at least - pulling Tom Daley to pieces, that is. The 'ignorati' are in full flow, with their vile 'jokes' and undisguised homophobia. How long before tales of a 'paedophile ring' at Central Park pool in Plymouth, dedicated to 'grooming' the young Tom, begin to surface? Cynical, moi?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Like herding cats

And cats that someone is trying to nudge in another direction, at that. A day of phone calls and texts around K's application for the place where she wants to do her A-Levels has been substantially more stressful than it needed to be, for a number of reasons. K had an e-mail from the school a few days back inviting her to arrange an appointment for an interview, but for unknown reasons - beyond being 'too busy' - hadn't got around to it. I've offered whatever help she needs from the outset, but she's wanted to be in charge of the process herself - until last night, when she asked me to ring and sort the appointment out. Which I did, first thing this morning, to find that not only that they can't find her application form, but that the closing date for applications is this Friday. Having arranged a provisional appointment, I rang my ex to tell her what was going on. Which is where the problems really started. I've known from the first time K mentioned the possibility of coming up to London, well over a year ago, that my ex didn't want it to happen, but today has been the first time that it's been openly admitted. Not only that, but K knows what her mother thinks. And I'm supposed to be the one putting pressure on the girl. Yes, I'll admit I'd love K to be up here with me, but I honestly think that the priority is that the girl should be in the place that's best for her life as a whole, and I've said so on numerous occasions, to both K and my ex. The upshot of it all is that K is still adamant that she wants to go to this school, so I've told her, pretty robustly, that she needs to get her finger out, and make sure the school get the paperwork, or electronic equivalent, they need before the deadline, and that she confirms with me by tomorrow whether she can make the appointment I've arranged, so I can give them a definite 'yea or nay'. We'll see what happens.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

I can't manage any more in one sitting

I've just managed to read three chapters of an online story that always makes me cry, without crying. Just. I can't possibly manage any more of it at the moment, though. Almost everyone who knows me would be amazed that there's this swamp of emotional turmoil beneath the 'cold fish' exterior. Even I find it hard to believe it sometimes, and I'm on the inside. One of these days, there's going to be a cataclysmic meltdown. I just hope I don't have it anywhere too public.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

In an ideal world

Still being off work, and not wanting to sit staring at the walls of my room, I've spent most of my days recently out and about. And thinking, prompted particularly by two things that happened on Sunday, about what would constitute my 'ideal' relationship, the way I am now. On the way to the station on Sunday morning, I was walking a hundred yards or so behind a boy, maybe 12 or 13, who was on his own. About halfway, he stopped, and began talking on his mobile phone. As I overtook him, a brief sideways glance confirming my first impression that he was more than passably cute, I heard him say 'I'm near where I met you last time'. A few moments later, he ran past me, until, once more, he was some way in front of me, before returning to a walking pace. Due to the 'lie of the land', I lost sight of him for a minute or two, but as I got closer to the station, he came into view again. And it turned out that the person he'd met, and presumably who he'd been talking to on the phone, was an adult. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for the scenario, the man, who I only saw the back of, could well have been an uncle, a football coach, even his father, if he came from a 'broken home', but it did, unsurprisingly, I guess, cross my mind that there may have been something else between them. Then, later in the day, I was on a bus in South London, when a slightly younger boy, 10 or thereabouts, sitting in front of me with (probably) his father, turned round, apropos of nothing, and smiled sweetly at me. The combination of the two moments left me thinking about what I really want in my life, and the answer I came up with is that I would be quite happy with a simple friendship with a boy, just being able to spend a little time together, maybe, if I was very lucky, a hug every now and again. The sexual side of my attraction to boys can be (and is) dealt with in ways that don't require a 'partner', just a little imagination (Yeah, I know, TMI!). The problem is, of course, that I don't know any boys, and even if I did, in the face of the rampant paranoia that reigns supreme, no-one would believe that I wasn't intent on molestation, or worse. It's the same story I've faced for most of my life, trapped in a maze, partly of my own making, partly of society's, without a hope of a solution. And that realisation is when the 'why carry on?' demons enter the picture. Because it's hard to find an answer to that superficially simple question. Why do I bother?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B