Friday, 30 August 2013

My Evil Twin

To be fair, he probably isn’t evil.

I have a twin. He is my beach twin. I see him on the beach, all the time, and it’s STARTING TO GET WEIRD!

Today was a perfect example, and adequately illustrates how our relationship continues to develop.

Today, I arrived on the beach at about 11.30. I love going to the beach. I spend a lot of time there in the Summer Holidays. It was a lovely day. I had music, a good book, it was a gorgeous day; I was very content. About midday, HE APPEARS. He wanders down the beach, he has a swim. He sits about 20 yards away, nearer the water, he remains there for about an hour. Then off he goes.

Nothing weird about that.


Later, after leaving the beach, wandering into town, etc, etc... I return to the beach. The seafront is essentially my walk home, so I tend to walk along the beach as it’s a pretty walk. I decide to sit down for a while, as it’s still so warm. I’m on a different bit of beach now, further up- so I sit down relax, look around me...

THERE HE IS AGAIN. He was there first, clearly. I just hadn’t noticed. A different bit of beach a few minutes away. But THERE HE IS.

Nothing weird about that though. A coincidence, that’s all.

But this happens ALL THE TIME. Different bits of beach, different times of day. In term time, I often nip to the beach late, sort of 4.30/5.00ish – he’s often there, irrespective of which bit of beach I’m on, and it does vary.

And now it’s the holidays, I’m camped out during the day- THERE HE IS AGAIN. Different bits of beach again.

How is this happening? It is too wild to be a coincidence. Superlativity has seen him too. It’s not just me being crazy. He’s my witness.

Anyway- so now it’s got to the point of being weird and frankly ridiculous, and I wonder ‘Does he recognise me when I clock him?’

Who knows... I sort of feel like I should talk to him now. I don’t know why precisely, it just seems like it would be the right thing to do in such an odd situation, where we continually run into eachother on such a random and regular basis.



“Fuck of you little freak.”


Perhaps... perhaps it IS just a coincidence, but none of it adds up. Sometimes I’m there first, sometimes he is. Sometimes it’s one bit of beach, sometimes a different bit, or a different bit again. Sometimes it’s 11 in the morning, sometimes it’s 5 in the afternoon.  Sometimes it’s 3 in the afternoon. 

It CAN’T be a coincidence.

Therefore he must be my evil beach twin.  He is kind of hot.  Sets of my gaydar just a tiny bit. Nice body, tasteful tattoo, bleached tips.

Great tan.

Maybe it’s the heat haze creating a mirror effect?

This is my BeachTwin. Not a normal twin. We don't look alike. We have a 
similar look, perhaps, but we are twins only on account of integrated beach use.

Thursday, 22 August 2013

The day I stopped caring (about pants)

I like to make an effort. I have a couple of rules about going out and socialising. Well, not rules exactly – but a couple of habits that have endured for ages.

Number one: Never turn down an invitation unless you genuinely can’t make it.

Number two: Always wear something nice.

And this is the way it was for years.  Years and years. Number one was a symptom of growing up in a small town that was just a little bit far from almost all my friends- who lived in the next town. I was cut off by forest geography after about quarter past ten each night.  And I was always aware that, quite rightly, my friends met up without me because I just couldn’t always attend and I was that much further away.

But I was always a teensy bit jealous.

So I always went to everything. I never missed an opportunity to socialise and never made an excuse or avoided a situation. I lived for being sociable -  being slightly more cut off either drove this or made it more annoying. Who knows.

Recently I’ve become a tiny bit more picky. I will say no to the occasional invite, though it’s still pretty rare. Sometimes I get that feeling whereby, despite a longstanding plan with friends that you’ve been looking forward to for ages, and despite enthusiasm at the time of planning, it gets to the night itself and I think:


But this passes pretty quick. I have a third rule- never cancel on people at short notice.  People do it to me ALL THE TIME and, whilst I never mind, on one particular birthday I learned never to do it to others because it can be a fuck when it happens to you, all at once on the same night, one cancellation after the next.

And you make yourself go, have a drink, put on some Britney- get yourself enthused, and then you go and have a FUCKING GOOD TIME.

I just fancied a quiet night out.

Of course it’s fun! It was always going to be fun.  We just experience that lazy bit before hand.

We’re older now.

But now?  A new development. A new development pertaining to Number 2: Nice clothes.

 I’m a bit fussy about clothes. I like clothes. I like outfits and looking nice and making the effort. People generally conclude that I’m quite well dressed. I like that.

And the other day, I was getting ready to go out. I had some nice new jeans on. You know when they’re all new and tight. I had my amazing winged trainers on. Nice t-shirt. Nice belt. Nice outfit.

Then I noticed I was wearing horrible pants. 

Not horrible.  Boring maybe. Not a nice waistband. Not nice enough to be poking out from beneath my jeans a bit, and more importantly NOT MATCHING ANYTHING ELSE I WAS WEARING.

But my winged trainers take forever to do up. They’re really tall lace-up hi-tops. And my new jeans were so new and skinny and tight they were a battle to get on and off.

So I did nothing.

I left it, and went out in horrible pants.  And within a few minutes I didn’t even remember.

I’m sure no-one else would notice/care/give a fuck anyway.  But *I* do.

Until that day.

That was the day that I stopped caring.

That was the day I stopped caring about pants.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Pride in Pictures

Less ramble.  More photos.


11.00 Morning booze and Parade through Brighton

     13.00 Chair-O-Planes and boy bands
     14.00 Naked fitties all around
17.00 Freemasons dance-off and skanky street booze preparation

00.00 Street Party and finally allowed to eat again

And that was (some of) Brighton Pride 2013...