Not what you expect....

....on a number 2 bus at 6:00 in the morning, even in Central London, but there he was. No ambiguity about legality, he was probably in his early twenties - and drop dead gorgeous, even to my boyloving eyes. As I've said more than once, I've got no discernible 'gaydar', but I'd be very surprised, given his attire and demeanour, if he was straight. Once I'd got my breath back, though, my mood collapsed into a miasma of pitiful inadequacy, the knowledge that someone like him would never be accessible to a fat old mess like me. And probably never would have been, even when I was his age, but, once more, I cursed my stupidity and cowardice for not even having tried to be myself back then, instead cravenly attempting to be what those around me expected. There's a scene in the film Papillon where the main character dreams of being charged and found guilty of 'a wasted life'. That's me, to a T.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B