Friday, 1 July 2016


Today is the first of July. It’s very cold, wet, foggy and windy - thanks to our errant gulf stream. If you have see the film ‘The day After Tomorrow’ - I’m sure you are feeling uncomfortable right now.

To my delight, I now have an IMDB listing, thanks to a lengthy on-camera interview I gave about a film made last year on the subject of French Connection and their ‘FCUK’ logo. I cannot tell you how much this pleased me - I just wish it had been for something more interesting.

I’m working at home today, I have a delivery due. It came on Wednesday (the wrong day) and I refused to pay £10 to have it re-delivered in a time-slot of my choice, so I’m stuck indoors for 8 hours. It’s a selection of books from the sale at Phaeton  I managed to get about £120 worth of design books for just over £20. Additionally - I seem to have won a competition online - one of those random selection things as a reward for re-tweeting something, and am getting a custom made bag.

The amount of urine that the small dog product and leaves around the house has now reached biblical proportions - much more comes out than goes in.

There is a program on the radio later about face-blindness, something I’ve mentioned before. My short term memory is so rubbish now I just don’t even bother trying to remember who people are. I bumped into someone I used to know well last night and could’t help staring at her - not totally sure she hadn’t been replaced by a doppleganger.

I seem to be spending more time chasing payments than doing actual work at the moment, and I know for a fact - without even having to check my account, that I didn’t get a large payment that would have made sure I paid all my standing orders today. It’s becoming a regular thing. Three jobs have been cancelled or put on hold because of uncertainty over Brexit already - a client rang me from a conference in Italy and told me ‘they are literally laughing at us’. A friend is supplementing his income by spending 2 days a week working 12 hour shifts handing out towels (and other stuff) at a 24 hour gay sauna in Hove. I’ll stick to bar work.

In other news, what a week for politics. What fun.

My depths of loathing for Boris Johnson know no bounds, no limits. I’m quite sure he will be back - but I honestly believe we’ve been saved a terrible cruelty in having him for Prime Minister. Theresa May might very well be out next Prime Minister, she’s the obvious shoe-in - and I suspect she will be seen as the best choice rom abroad, but never underestimate how ruthless she is capable of being, or what a huge election of chips she has on her shoulders. It’s a pity that Stephen Crabb carries the dead weight of loony christian faith around and old fashioned homophobia - he has more to offer as a progressive candidate. You never know - he might surprise them all. It’s been a good distraction from the self flagellation and rabble rousing in labour - I can barely leave the house now, I half expect to find the battered corpses of suspected ‘Blairites’ hanging from the lampposts. Even people I know to be sensible and sober are falling for absurd conspiracy theories and rumours of dark plots.

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