Good news and bad news

I was substantially cheered when I discovered at lunchtime that Boris Johnson had decided not to pursue the Tory leadership - the last thing this country needs, as far as I'm concerned, is a Trump-style buffoon at the helm. My upbeat mood was short-lived, though, on hearing that Gove had entered the contest as the 'ultra-Brexiteer' candidate. I find the man and his opinions utterly vile. The fact that every time I see his smug face in the media, the more he reminds me of Himmler isn't much of a recommendation, either. All Tories are scum, to my mind, but the fact that the dyed-in-the-wool authoritarian Theresa May strikes me as the least worst option speaks volumes about the rest of the contenders.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Funny where inspiration comes from

I've struggled to find the slightest silver lining in the funereally dark Brexit cloud over the past few days, but there may just be the faintest glimmer after all. While I was on my break at work this afternoon, my musings about how the country might support itself in the aftermath of a complete economic collapse (which, incidentally, I still see as a possible outcome of the post-referendum shambles) gave me an idea for a story. Given my lamentable fictional output in recent times, there are absolutely no guarantees of even a beginning to the tale, still less a denouement, but the very existence of an idea is, at least, vaguely positive.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B 

Ignominy

As if the Brexit vote and its aftermath weren't bad enough, England have contrived to be knocked out of Euro 2016 by Iceland. How much further is there to fall?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B 

Sweet and sour, once more

I had a smidgen of quality time with K last night - we met up for drinks after I'd finished work, the company and conversation being much nicer than I probably deserve - before she heads off again at lunchtime today. The aftermath of the stupidity of the electorate was a major topic for discussion, of course, as the country continues to descend into chaos, with both main political parties seemingly on the verge of implosion and the currency still falling like a stone. And, most worryingly, stories of a massive increase in overt racism and xenophobia, as a substantial cadre of the 'white British' population appear to have taken the referendum result as carte blanche to do and say whatever they like. I can only hope that no-one is killed as a result, because the veneer of civilisation in the UK seems to be thin to the point of invisibility at the moment.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The wanderer returns - momentarily

K got back from her Canarian adventure at 4:30 this morning, slightly singed around the edges, but otherwise safe and well. Our reunion will be decidedly brief, though - she's asleep, naturally enough, at the moment, I'm working another late shift this afternoon, and then she's off again in the morning to spend the rest of the week with her boyfriend and his family 'up north'. Get used to it, I guess, given that it's only a matter of weeks before she'll be away at uni, leaving me to 'enjoy' the single life again. I can hardly wait.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Madness, and after

On the back of a tide of toxic nationalism, racism and xenophobia, the great and wise British - or, more accurately, given the voting figures, English - electorate has decided to leave the EU. Cameron has announced his resignation, the stock market and Sterling are in free fall, far-right parties all over Europe are calling for referendums of their own, Scottish independence looks inevitable, as, possibly, does a return to violence in Ireland. So England, my country for good or ill, will be 'independent', as the vile Farage gleefully crowed - yes, independent as a third-world backwater ruled by fascists, fuckwits and bigots like Johnson, Gove and Farage - will your German wife be deported, Nigel? - with a destroyed economy and no human rights (although Cameron wanted to tear up the ECHR as far as this country was concerned, too). And, no doubt, a heavily intensified tendency to look for scapegoats. No time to be non-white, non-English, gay - or a 'paedo'. I think renewing my passport and looking at flight schedules might be in order.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

By their love, ye shall know them

There's not much I can add to this post. Apart from to wonder whether this christofascist really believes his words would please his imaginary deity, if it actually existed.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The boy on the bus isn't

Isn't a boy anymore. I thought I'd seen him a few weeks back, but I wasn't sure if it actually was him or not. Today's encounter left no doubt, though. And there was equally little doubt that in the eighteen months or so since I last saw him, puberty has got hold of him, big style. He's got a moustache, albeit one of the insubstantial type youths of his age and a little older often sport. Another reminder, if any were needed, of the most fundamental issue boylovers face - transience. If DBJ walked through the door of this pub right now, the dissonance between my memories of him and the grown-up reality would probably reduce me to a pile of lachrymose mush, but any such reaction would, of course, change nothing. Boys grow up, inexorably. Luckily, their little brothers do, too!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Last and first

A rather significant couple of days for K - she took her last A-Level yesterday, and while she's officially on the register until the end of term next month, that effectively marked her last day as a schoolgirl, given that she doesn't have to go in this half term except for exams. And today, she's gone off on what might be described as her first 'adult' holiday - she had her American adventure two years ago, but that involved staying with the families of people she already knew, while this trip is just her and her best friend from school off to the Canary Islands sunshine and staying in a hotel. Two 'growing-up' milestones, without a doubt.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Limits

I've long known that the 'archbigot' at work was irremediably racist, xenophobic, misogynistic and - well - bigoted, but I didn't realise until last night at work that he was a moron as well. He loudly expressed his hope that Trump would be the next US president, on the basis of his - surprise, surprise - racism, xenophobia, misogyny and bigotry. I thought there were limits to stupidity, but apparently not.
I've read a good number of posts about the weekend's appalling events in Orlando, including a depressingly large number calling the victims as evil as their murderer, and, most notably, one from a 'Christian' pastor gloating that there were now '50 less paedophiles in the world', disinterring the ridiculous meme about 'all gays being paedos'. I thought there were limits to hatred, but apparently not.
I was sitting behind a thirty-something man on a busy rush hour bus on my way back from work this morning, and it was very soon obvious that he was watching porn on his phone. Sitting next to a young woman of South Asian extraction, at 8:15 in the morning. I thought there were limits to how little self-respect, and consideration for others, a person could have, but apparently not.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Conspiracy theory

I am, as regular readers will doubtless have discerned, a thoroughgoing sceptic, completely unconvinced of the existence of any 'supernatural' power, whether benign or malevolent. The obstacle course that seems to have been put in the way of my achieving a superficially straightforward aim over the past couple of days, though, has almost been enough to make me reconsider - it really has felt like some odd conspiracy has been set in train to thwart me. There has been one serendipitous outcome, though - I've finally got around to acquiring a new mobile phone, something that was long overdue, the old one being almost as decrepit as its owner!
The frustration of my weekend was heightened even further on the way back from town, as I was tantalised by glimpses, and only glimpses, of an achingly lovely boy on the Tube. Would that he could've been the 'prince' I've been waiting for all these years. Not the remotest chance of that dream coming true, needless to say.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Nothing compares

To you. I've seen a lot of beautiful boys (and a few attractive girls), both in cyberspace and real life, of late, but none of them have come close to eclipsing the boy. Not my boy, never was, never could have been, but enshrined in my memory, nonetheless. The standard by which all are judged, and, through no fault of their own, found wanting. The boy, as I've said many times before, who changed my life. DBJ. Love you always.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

21st Century cryptoid man

With apologies to Mssrs Fripp, Sinfield et al.
I've always been cognisant of the pitfalls of allowing my 'cyberlife' and real life to interact too obviously - the pseudonymous nature of this blog is something I've guarded jealously, as long term readers will know - but, as I get older, and find my way into some rather tenebrous places, my habit of caution is becoming ever more pronounced. Complete internet anonymity is, I suspect, a vain hope, but the more convoluted the path you follow, the more difficult it is for those you'd rather not find you to achieve that end. Maybe.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

But rather more of a genuine surprise

As I went to the bar after finishing the previous post, I was brought up short by another intending customer. He didn't look old enough to get served - until I recognised who it was. The young (now-ex) barman who used to work in both my old local and this new regular haunt of mine. He always did look, even two and a bit years ago when I first saw him, too young to be serving behind a bar, but now, with a much shorter haircut, he could easily pass for 15 or 16. And if he was cute then, he's positively delicious now. Pity that he still presents as 100% straight, not, of course, that he'd be remotely interested in me even if the opposite applied.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

What a surprise - not

The Mail on Sunday's main headline this morning screamed about the 'Brexit' campaign - those who want to vote for the UK to leave the EU in this month's referendum - having been 'hijacked' by the far right, with tales of National Front and BNP alumni involved. No-one with two brain cells to rub together should find this even slightly surprising - I've always considered UKIP to be nothing more than the National Front in a suit, including the loathsome Farage, the ultra 'Little Englander' with his nose firmly in the European Parliamentary trough, never mind all the thuggish hangers-on. Nationalism always brings the worst pondlife imaginable out from under their rocks, as far as I'm concerned.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Bye bye, Luke

And Will, too. Two brothers who were in my regular Wetherspoons until just now, part of a family group seemingly celebrating an elderly relative's birthday. Luke was 'little bro', 9/10, and markedly cuter than his 12/13 sibling - surprise, surprise, I suppose - but I would quite happily have taken either or both of them home for cuddles, given the opportunity. As it is, I'll be heading back shortly to an empty flat, and, at best, fictional boys. Loving every minute, or not, as the case may be.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Home, and its impending absence

Maybe, anyway. K and I have had a couple of conversations in recent days about what happens, accommodation-wise, when she goes off to uni in three months or so. The original plan was for her to get a flat, somewhere she could live all year, but she's now decided that she wants to go into halls of residence for her first year. That suggested to me that she would need both somewhere to stay in the holidays and somewhere to store some of her things, leading me to think that it might be worth keeping the flat for another year. K was unenthusiastic, to say the least, saying that she was planning to 'downsize', and that any 'surplus' could go to her mother's. Given that it would be a stretch, financially, for me to pay for the flat and contribute enough to maintain K, I can't justify keeping it if she's not going to use it as well. Which would leave me homeless again. Why does life have to be so unremittingly awful?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B