A pivotal moment

I found a picture on the internet a couple of hours ago, a picture of a little building, now long gone, that, when I walked into it on a Sunday afternoon in September 1976, completely changed my life. In the space of an hour, I went from university, maybe even Oxbridge candidate, to someone on a path to the career in the industry I've now worked in for more than 38 years. Just by being in a particular place at a particular time. Unbelievable doesn't even come close to describing how much influence that day and that place had.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

In memoriam

I'm raising a glass in memory of my old local, murdered by corporate greed 52 weeks ago today. Daniel (the cute barman who used to work in the old place, and now works in my current most regular haunt) and I had a longish conversation about the pub and some of its more characterful patrons last night, although I had, of course, to refrain from mentioning the one I miss the most, the subject of the previous post. Still, what was probably the longest chat I've ever had with Daniel was at least a small consolation prize, even if there's no chance whatsoever of it leading to anything more.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A doleful anniversary

A year and about two and a half hours ago, I saw Cammy for the last time, on the Friday of the weekend that marked the demise of my old local. I still miss him, all the time. Where is my boy?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Good days and not so good days

Yesterday was the former, because I spent a good chunk of it with K. She came up to London, and we went for her belated birthday meal - she chose Wagamama, a chain I hadn't eaten at before. The food was pretty good, actually, if a bit pricey, and I wouldn't hesitate to visit one of their places in the future. From there, we decamped to one of my occasional Wetherspoons, spending hours talking about whatever came to mind. She eventually headed back to 'uni-town' at around 8:30, but I can at least look forward to seeing her again next week, because she's up in town for a gig next Wednesday, which conveniently happens to be a day off for me.
Today, though, it was back to work, which I wasn't in the mood for at all, and it didn't get any better when the 'p-word' was gratuitously - and, surprise, surprise, incorrectly - bandied about. And it wasn't even the 'archbigot' who was responsible, although he was on duty, but two of my colleagues I'm on reasonably friendly terms with, most of the time. It's difficult to say whether it was the casual, ignorant bigotry or the fact that, once more, I had to bite my tongue to avoid outing myself that frustrated me more, but, either way, my teeth were certainly gritted.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Out of circulation

A night shift week again, forget doing anything of note apart from the sleep-eat-commute-work cycle. More frustrating than usual from my perspective, too, because I've effectively missed the eye candy potential of half term week, apart from the odd cutie espied while I've been 'in transit'. It was K's birthday in midweek, too, but I'd known for weeks I wasn't going to see her on or near her last teenage birthday, because, apart from my being on nights, she had a 'hand-in' deadline yesterday for her latest module of work. If all goes to plan, though, I'll be spending most of this coming Tuesday with my girl, so that will be a considerable recompense. Oh well, two more nights to go, so I'd better get on with the 'eat' part of the cycle. Are we having fun yet?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Another reunion

Yesterday saw another reunion with my friend who emigrated to Australia some years ago, but, unlike his last visit, his whole family have come over this time, his wife and two daughters also being here. I hadn't seen any of the ladies for a dozen years and more - the girls were 6 and 4 respectively when they moved - so it was nice to be able to catch up. I actually hit it off quite well with the younger daughter, because she's a major Aussie Rules fan, as is her dad, so there was certainly plenty of conversational material. There was, for a couple of hours, at least, a 75% reunion of our 'group', too, six of the eight members being at my brother's house to watch the Wales - England Six Nations match. Sadly, I had to make a rapid exit as soon as the game ended, needing to get home at a reasonable hour preparatory to my being on earlies this morning. Would that I could've afforded to ditch today's shift, but the financial ship is starting to creak rather alarmingly of late, more money going out than coming in for three of the last four months. It's not a crisis, yet, but some belt-tightening might soon have to be seriously considered.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Two dreams

Both depressing, in their way. Early on last night, I dreamed that I had a cute young boyfriend (not based on anyone in my 'real' life, as far as I could tell), 12/13, blond and lovely. It wasn't an erotic dream at all, the most intimate contact was our holding hands, but, on waking, I realised that even that degree of closeness to a boy would be deemed 'grooming' in today's fanatically intolerant society. Then, when I fell asleep again, I dreamed of my ex, for the first time in a long time. We argued in some unidentifiable street, before making up with protestations of still loving each other, but parting agreeing that we could never be together again. I do still love her, on some levels, but even if she begged me on bended knee, I'd never want us to be a couple again. When you've been as comprehensively rejected as I was, that's something that can never be repaired. The pain of that still gnaws away, even now, but there's nothing I can do apart from live with it.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Too cold

Well, by Southern English standards, at least, it's been too cold for much meandering this afternoon, as my partial weekend off began at lunchtime - the only shift I'm working over the next few days is on Sunday morning, before I start nights on Monday. So, of course, I'm in the pub, and have been for quite a while. I might be doing something more sociable tomorrow, possibly involving a trip to my home town, although I'm awaiting final confirmation from my brother. If not, I'll probably end up in the pub again. As is my wont.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

I'm so glad....

....I’m not an American parent, because the education system in that country has just taken a huge step towards destruction, with the confirmation of the egregious DeVos as education secretary. By way of the even more appalling Pence's casting vote. If anyone ever needed an excuse to blow his smug, smirking theocratic head off of his shoulders, that casting vote is ample justification.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Near perfection

I've had almost 24 hours to think about this now, during which time I've gone through a number of phases of 'shall I, shan't I?', mostly around the self-censorship I'm all too often guilty of. But, sometimes, reality has to win out, the truth has to be enunciated. Regular readers here might have noticed that I haven't written much about boys of late, in spite of my regular assertions that talking about being a boylover, and the implications of that fact, is the principal raison d'être for my having a blog at all. So, last night, around about this time. He appeared, with his parents, in my most regular haunt. The family, to judge by the conversation I could hear, were Eastern European, which flavour, exactly, I'm not linguistically gifted enough to say. But whatever his birth nationality, the boy was simply a delight. Happy, obviously intelligent, with the most infectious laugh I've come across in many a long day. And, of course, attractive to me in spades. So why do I say he was only 'near perfection'? Because, to be perfect in my eyes, a boy should be on the absolute cusp of puberty. And yesterday's boy was at least a year, maybe two, short of that point. In other words, he was prepubescent. And attraction to prepubescents, even using the 'proper' definition I wish the world would adopt, is paedophilia. I don't, even if I only looked and imagined, feel very good about myself at the moment.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Archbigotry

Another couple of days of tongue-biting for me at work, homophobia yesterday, racism today, orchestrated, of course, by the 'archbigot'. He's on holiday for a couple of weeks after tomorrow, though, so there will be some respite. Unlike from the Mussolini clone in the White House, whose egregiously fascistic actions seem to lurch from bad to worse to nightmarish by the day. If only his own supporters were affected, I'd be positively giddy with shadenfreude. But the rest of the American people, and the rest of us outside 'the wall' face potential disaster because of his imbecility as well. Terrifying times.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Seasiding, and yet another musical hero gone

It was off to the coast yesterday, to meet up with K in 'uni-town' for what turned out to be a decidedly long Wetherspoons lunch - we sat and talked around the food and, for me, drink - my girl sensibly stuck to water - for something like four hours. I guess we defy the stereotype of parents and teens not being able to communicate pretty well!
A different kind of communication from K, a text she sent me on my way back to London, alerted me to the all too familiar news of the passing of another of my favourite musicians, John Wetton. The three piece line-up of King Crimson that he formed part of, alongside Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford, is, as far as I'm concerned, the best incarnation of the band, and certainly the one I would most liked to have seen live, much as I enjoyed the two gigs I did see in Autumn 2015. And Red, the last Crimson studio album Wetton performed on, is my favourite by the band by some distance. Another sad loss.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B