Life has been somewhat shambolic this week.
In my haste to make the last posting, I omitted one salient point. During the conversation with my parents about asylum seekers, we got on to talking about name calling. I said that I knew what that felt like as I'd been called names myself.
Both parents looked blank for the moment and then my dad asked "Like what?".
"Well, like queer," I answered.
There was one of those moment's pauses whilst everyone digested this information according to their own lights.
Then my mother broke the silence by saying, "Well, I don't think that's very nice."
It's a moot point as to whether or not she was referring to the name calling or my letting them know what had happened. Admittedly, it was a while ago now but I rather think that this piece of reality was more than my folks actually wanted to know. But hey, don't ask the question if you don't want to know the answer.
However, this does allow me to mention that, in the Virgin Records sale, I managed to pick up a bundle of videos for £30 which included the second series of Queer as Folk. The others were widescreen versions of Shakespeare in Love, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Magnolia and Clockwork Orange. This last, I saw (twice) in the cinema when it first came out. I must have been 17 or 18 at the time.
QAF is still rather good. I do like the energy and the top level overview of gay life in the 90s. But I still think that the ending with Stuart and Vince going to America is a load of old codswallop.
There are now 10 hours 4 minutes of daylight each day. As Phil pointed out to me in an email recently, I have indeed been keeping track and I'm much fortified by the information. I still don't seem able to shake off my lack of desire to communicate with folk though. I'd assumed that it would begin to ease by now. But no. I feel more like staying in my shell than ever.
I've not done much improving around the house. Things seem to conspire to prevent the kitchen tiling being done and the carpeting being sorted. But I'm phlegmatic about these things. They will happen. Just not, it would seem, now.
One thing I did do this week, almost by mistake, was to find a bundle of CDs which I thought had gone missing. This was distressing as they included versions of Gounod's Faust, La Gioconda and works by Arvo Pärt. Whilst I greeted these possessions like old, lost friends, it has meant that the collection is now bursting out of the enlarged shelving section to which I had consigned it when I moved in here. The penalty of larger quarters is expanding possessions.
In contrast, I have been running round the house tidying and cleaning. It's amazing what the reality of having a house guest coming to stay will do. I'm actually quite nervous. I really want Chris to like the house and for the weekend to go well. I want to feel that I can invite more people to come and stay.