I arrived in the Capital and checked into the Euston Square Hotel.
I felt well up for an extended weekend in London and Epsom.
I arrived in the Capital and checked into the Euston Square Hotel.
A quick bite to eat and then I was ready for the evening's entertainment.
I had invited a couple of escorts to join me and was looking forward to whatever mayhem might occur.
It very quickly became clear that Jay was going to be a busy boy that evening. Both Luke and I took turns fucking him from either end. I fucked Luke while he and Jay 69ed and then I fucked Jay while the 69ing continued. Then I left Luke alone for a while so that he could boff Jay to his heart's content.
We took a break and chatted and I asked Jay if he'd ever been DPed and would he like to have a go. He said he's never tried it but was willing to have a go. So I lay down and Jay jumped on top riding me before Luke very gingerly joined me inside of Jay who really got a buzz out of having two cocks in him at the same time. And the we banged him while he gasped and groaned and whimpered for all he was worth. Luke and I exchanged places and I got the chance to pound Jay's very cute arse.
There was lots more of this and a good time was being had so we probably kept going for a little while after the allotted, paid for duration.
As we were all putting out clothes back on, I suggested a drink in a local pub and so we all ended up in The Square Tavern on Tolmer's Square. Twenty years ago, this was the after-work Friday drinking haunt of me and my colleagues at UCL. Much as in those days, one drink turned to several. I decided to go with the flow and had a great night full of laughter and camaraderie.
But I paid the price the following morning and found myself to be moving very slowly. I decided to reduce my planned itinerary to just one gallery after having settled in Costa for a coffee or two.
Tube down to Waterloo and then a brisk walk up beside the Thames towards Bankside. I encountered The Golden Hind and, yes, I know it's a replica but it's still astonishing to think that a group of initially 80 but eventually 56 men sailed round the world in something similar and of that size.
With the lack of space in any of the three dimensions, it's a wonder that they weren't all completely doolally before they reached Brazil.
Arriving at Tate Modern, I took myself off to the headline Georgia O'Keeffe exhibition.
I was told that I was in the presence of remarkable paintings by a pioneer of twentieth century art.
And I can happily say that I admired the craft of what I saw.
But I felt that, after I'd seen one room full mainly of paintings of enlarged flowers, I really wanted to move on. But that didn't happen.
Yes, there were animal skulls and landscapes which I gathered capture the essence of New Mexico but there was a coldness to the artist's gaze on the subject matter which did not engage me.
After a coffee in the Members' Rooms, I decided to have a quick look at the Mona Hatoum exhibition and really liked it. Her work is full of visual puns. The slow turning of the mill wheel powered by ox, ass, camel or, in this instance, electric motor constantly draws lines and then erases them. A wheel of fortune or fate. A land ploughed and laid waste. I stood for a while with this piece just letting myself be absorbed.
Below, you can see a screen behind which someone might change their clothes but it is, in fact, an unfurled cheese grater and the piece is called Grater Divide. Below that again is a globe made of metal and red neon tubing named Hot Spot III. But not everything is where it is supposed to be and the whole planet is caught up in an endless cycle of conflict.
 
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From there, I took a train down to Epsom and met up with Linda, after I had convinced the staff at the main station there that I was not trying to scam the system by trying to use a 6 Zone Pass (apparently one Epsom train is in Zone 6 but the main one isn't - Linda explained that there is local ire about this). Then, a brisk ride in the car and it was lovely to see Ian and Mary again. We ate and chatted and sat out in the back garden.
On the Sunday, Linda and I were instructed to go off together and have sibling time so she took me to the National Trust property at Polesden Lacey which is near Dorking.
And I had a lovely afternoon out with my li'l sis'.
I'm sure that ice cream was consumed at some point.
Overnight stay, Monday morning breakfast and then back into town.
I arrived back in the centre and went straight to the National Gallery on Trafalgar Square. Their Sainsbury's Wing exhibition was entitled Painters' Paintings: From Freud to Van Dyck. The idea behind the exhibition was to explore the connections between painters and the paintings produced by other artists which they possessed.
It was interesting to reflect on why painters might hang the works of others on their own walls - possibly for inspiration, sometimes to support a friend but then all the other motives such as status, investment, even obsession must have played their part.
However, I have to say that what seemed like a very interesting idea on paper became very quickly in reality a jumble sale of odd and mismatched pieces. Just looking at them, there was little reason to have all of these works in one room together.
What I ended up doing was to play a sort of game trying to guess who had owned what. I was not very good at this game and so I gave up. Anyway, for your education and edification, below are two examples - on the left, Cézanne's Three Bathers was once owned by Matisse and on the right Sisley's The Flood. Banks of the Seine, Bougival was once owned by Degas. The thing is that knowing that does not add anything to my personal understanding or appreciation of any of those four painters or the two paintings.
From paintings to food, I strolled up Charing Cross Road and lunched at Gaby's. I do love eating here - over 35 years of gastronomic pleasure and still counting.
From Leicester Square, I took the Piccadilly line to Manor House and I swear to god that someone asked me if we were on the train for Cockfosters. I was all but launched into an old Max Miller routine (whereby I should have responded that my name was David) but I applied the mental brakes saying to myself that the number of people who would recognise the reference these days is vastly reduced. And, if they didn't know about Max Miller (The Cheeky Chappie), then it would be very unlikely that they would grasp that the joking response infers that there is a comma inserted into the word Cockfosters after the letter "k".
I was on my way to my second three-way of the trip. I had been hoping to pair Alex up with Aaron but, once again, he made a last minute cancellation citing posterior troubles once more. In his place, I met up with Luke at the Tube Station and we made our way to an apartment in this rather fine block on Woodberry Grove. Aaron had, quite obviously, gone up in the world.
Luke was much more equally matched with Aaron than he had been with Jay. The two of them fell on each other and were eagerly at it before the first half hour was up switching back and forth between the two of them. I jumped in and had my fill of each of them as well.
Eventually, Aaron had Luke's legs over his shoulders and I had the great pleasure of watching the two of them bring each other off. First Luke wanking his load out and then Aaron, that fabulous ass of his pistoning in and out, pumping his spunk into Luke.
I needed my own release and Aaron obliged in a doggie position and I fucked him for barely two to three minutes before I spewed my spunk as well.
Then there was the train journey home.
Shortly after passing through Lichfield, I was looking through the carriage window and the basic landscape that I could see was just one striated buff field after another striated buff field. The gentle undulations of the land were broken up with random constructions comprised of pressed cuboid vegetation and straw rolled up like last night's duvet. A combine crawled across the terrain towards a ruby setting sun. The Midlands grain harvest is well under way for this point in August.
By the time we arrive in Runcorn, the population of the carriage had been distilled to Merseyside stock. The inevitable man with the black plastic bin liner arrived and called out his friendly enquiry "Any rubbish?"
Without a pause, a voice from down the other end of the carriage rumbled "Liverpool's right back."
Oh, I love my city!!
We came to a halt at Lime Street and I realised that I was pleasantly fatigued after four very enjoyable days.