Settling In
11 June

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Well, the process of transition and settling in continues unabated.

I've now completed my first full week at Connect. I've sat in on a couple of courses, done some research into customer satisfaction with an existing course that needs modification and just generally absorbed the ethos of the place.

I've got my car park pass and, rather like when I worked for AAH Pharmaceuticals back in the late 80s, the car park is half empty at 10 to 9 and full by 5 past and then full at 5 to 5 and half empty by 10 past. There is little sense that people work beyond their allotted hours. And, since most of the people I work alongside, live on the Wirral, there's very little sense also that people might want to stay behind to socialise with colleagues. Very different from UCL.

I'd had a number of inquiries from my new colleagues about what I had been doing before so I sent an e-mail to them all pointing them in the general direction of my cv on my official web pages. I knew that if they followed the links they could find themselves in the gallery of photographs of people - friends and family. It includes mention of Ross as my partner so I thought that this would be a delicate way of coming out to them all. I've had one enquiry so far.

One of the things I also feel quite strongly is that, for all the doubts, worries and striving to do better, my work at UCL really didn't actually need too many excuses. For all the extra resources, I don't know that Connect does manage much better when it comes to actual training. Most courses don't seem to have any teaching plan. In some cases, the content and the marketing to target audiences have parted company. In other cases, the course isn't really a training course but rather a series of illustrated lectures with accompanying work periods of tangential relevance.

So, I'm going through that stage of re-assessing my new employer and learning how things differ from the impression made at interview. What I'm not doing is to run round expending lots of energy, trying to make a brilliant impression. I can do that without really trying. And I'm waiting, waiting, biding my time. Just to see what I will do next.

Lest you feel that David may have been a dull boy, I should also mention that, Wednesday night, Colin and I trotted over to the newly opened Lowry for a performance of Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld by Opera North - see, you thought that, by moving out of the Metropolitan world city, I would be escaping from all of that didn't you - not a chance. Anyhow, for the record, it was a good night out. Not special. But fun.

The Lowry, itself, however, is a bit of a disaster.

The auditorium is fine though the rows are too long to allow easy ingress and egress. The foyers, however, are like entering the Crazy House of childhood funfairs with riotous, combating colours for carpets and walls and floors and surfaces at competing angles all askew. I kept feeling nauseous, panicky and vertiginous. I certainly won't go back there to spend much time in the public areas. It also took us over 30 minutes to get out of the car park - and we were on level 3 of 7.

Thursday lunch, I spent time with a colleague, Ally. from Liverpool University and discussed possible areas for house hunting - Crosby, Melling, Wavertree and Woolton are now all firmly in the frame. Commuting in from near Wigan each day has led me to believe that I don't want to be journeying long distances by car.

There's a number of good things and bad things to be said for living in someone else's house. It's nice to have fewer responsibilities but not nice not to have a space of my own. I like having cats around again (Eboli - my favourite, Ariadne and Medora). I'm interested in seeing newspapers again but not so interested as to want to take them up again when I move into my new abode.

Oh, by the way, I finished off the BBC history This Sceptred Isle and it is tremendously good and will be re-visited. In deference to my new locale, I have now started listening to Orwell's Road to Wigan Pier. I wonder what he'd have made of the post-industrial gentrification that had happened in areas where the coal mining has disappeared?

Friday evening I drove down to London. Reasonable drive. You tend to notice, at this time of the year, how much oil seed rape is growing in the motorway verges - which rather gives the lie to all the arguments against the spread of genetically modified crops. I took a break and had a fabulous meal at Harry Ramsden's at Hilton Park services just before Birmingham - best cod, chips and mushy peas I've had in an age. Accident on the M25 delayed me and I got to Ross's at about 11pm. Reader, I shagged him.

We've had a quite weekend otherwise. Slow mornings. Saturday afternoon walk around the Canary Wharf area. I restrained myself and only spent £20 in Gap but did come away with a nice pairs of jeans and a nice shirt. Quiet drink at the Slug and Lettuce ogling the passing tottie - nice young thing in a purple sports top and white shiny sports bottoms that managed to ride up the crack of his arse quite nicely. Ross and I wholeheartedly approved.

Early evening we want to see Gladiator at the newly opened West India Dock UGC Multiplex - nice cinema and very helpful staff - attentive to Ross in wheelchair without being mawkish.

David and Ross make this our action film of the year so far - American Beauty still has it for best film overall. The violence, though graphic, is very stylised - sort of out of focus and juddery. Probably how it would actually look if you were caught up in such mayhem rather than the usual crisp photojournalism or slow motion balleticism. And the scenes in ancient Rome itself are suitably awe-inspiring. D&R say "Go and see it for yourself".

Another good shag that night - Ross's head whipping from side to side, face a grimace of ecstasy as he moans "You bastard, you bastard, you bastard".

And now it's Sunday morning and the prospect of a quick visit to Barclay Road to collect the last of my possessions and a long, drive back to the North West.

Ross seems to have handled the last few weeks well. He's completed his degree show work on time and is ready for his assessment. I think that some of it is outstandingly good and I would be surprised if some of it doesn't sell. I'll be down in a fortnight's time for that particular extravaganza. He's also heard about his court case which is now set for September time and, though that's likely to be a heavy period, it doesn't appear to be preying too much on his mind. And he seems to be OK about the current arrangements between the two of us.

At the moment, he's lying on the bed asleep. The duvet is cast aside and he's moving through a series of evocative poses, limbs flung over the mattress with abandon. I love his body. I love the way it is no longer the slight, waif-like body of the 19 year old I met four years ago and is now the fully fleshed out body of the mature adult he has become. I love the weight of his legs, the set of his shoulders, the voluptuous curve of his buttocks. I love the hair, the smell, the texture of him. I love the way his cock swells with ease to my touch.

I'm going to sign off now.