First Times
Well, even at a stately 42, I'm happy to say that my life is still producing a number of occasions of which I can say Well, that's a first.
There were a couple, of course, last
weekend with Ross. Sigh! And there's
been a couple of artistic ones this week. Like the first Traviata
that I've attended that left me completely unmoved despite what all the
critics said about how wonderful Gheorghiu and Alagna are (he sounded
particularly tired after those performances of Don Carlos).
The other first was absolutely fabbity and that was a concert performance of Verdi's Alzira which was given with such utter conviction that you forgot that it was second rate Verdi and just surrendered to the dramatic sweep of it all. Mark Elder conducted a stonking performance from the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and the principals, Veronica Villarroel, Keith Ikaia-Purdy and Alexander Agache gave of their uttie. An evening of pure unexpected enjoyment.
I've also just finished acquainting myself with Mansfield Park for the first time and, although Emma and P & P will remain my favourites among the Austen catalogue, Fanny is an interesting heroine. You can either take her at her word as a sweet and innocent little darling or as an absolutely self-aware superbitch who connives and manipulates to get exactly what she wants. I prefer the latter incarnation but then I also like Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair which I'm just re-visiting.
Other firsts? Weeeelllll. I had my first encounter, unreported here, a few weeks back with a vibrating dildo (the circumstances need not detain us further). Frankly, I cannot see what all the fuss is about. I remained resolutely unmoved. A solid lump of plastic buzzing like a demented bluebottle round my back passage filled me with not one iota of frenzied lust. Though others, I know, react differently.
My first in this area came on Wednesday of this week and was the wearing of a thongy, athletic-type thing (again the circumstances need not detain us further). Now, I'd been warned in advance that the strap does tend to ride up the crack of your arse but I wasn't quite prepared for the extent to which this would happen.
Suffice it to say that I had a number of unexpected, nay inappropriate, moments of pleasure during the working day. The most intrusive of these came during a meeting with my Line Manager and another colleague. My phone rang and, as I swivelled in my seat to take the call, I nearly ended up collapsed over my desk in a state of euphoria. Actually, I was rubbed raw by the time 5pm came along (must invest in a layer of vaseline or some such next time) which did not add greatly to the evening's entertainment of hitting town and looking up an old friend (both nasty habits in themselves).
My night on the town was in sharp contrast to my original plan for the evening which had been to help Fred pack his bags and move some of his possessions out to my place for storing in my attic. However, Fred's plans change rapidly. His friendship with Dave who he met over Pride weekend has blossomed wonderfully. He'd been up to Nottingham to see him and was behind with his packing. He didn't think so but I've packed house before and could see the amount of work still to be done - the small things always take twice as long as you expect.
Logistical changes also meant that I was no longer required to drive him to the airport on Thursday which made my attendance both difficult to organise and emotionally intrusive. Back on Wednesday, I could see that my involvement was going to entail a lot of me running round like a blue-arsed fly and getting myself into a sweat before my social engagement only for Fred to swan off and have a nice time with Dave.
Well, I'm afraid I balked at that and manoevered and negotiated myself out of the situation, leaving Fred and Dave to sort things out. Well, if Dave's going to have all of the pleasure, I'm sure he doesn't mind taking on some of the responsibilities as well. I went off and had a fab time.
Thursday night, I had an enjoyably riotous and social time with Michael who was shortly due to disappear to Prague for a fortnight. By the time I got home near midnight, Fred would have been in the air and gone. It was the first time I'd thought about him all day. I've pondered Fred's departure many times over the past two months in many different emotional states and, in all of those musings, I never once guessed that it would turn out like this.
Well, Au revoir, Kwang Fa.