by Swan, Tarn
We toured the shops looking for a present for my baby sister. It feels weird saying that and not meaning Maryann. Gill has recovered from the birth and she and Janet are now at home. Twinks, aside from damming the choice of name (dull and stodgy) is playing it very cool about the baby. I don’t think he’s quite forgiven her for deciding to come into the world at an inconvenient moment. She had taken the focus of my attention away from where it should have been, on him. Thus far he hasn’t seen her, declining to visit Gill while she was in hospital. I also suspect that he feels showing an interest in Gill’s baby is somehow disloyal to Dominic and he feels jealous on his behalf in case my affections are hijacked. He keeps saying things like: ‘I bet she isn’t as beautiful as Dominic or as clever and don’t forget he’s your godson and you have a responsibility.’ I tried talking to him about it, but he gave me the brush off saying I was fussing over air as usual. We ended up in Strickland and Holt, a posh department store, and while I browsed the silver gifts he wandered off to look at clothes and accessories. The exclusive and subdued atmosphere of the store suddenly shattered as Twinks shrieked that he’d discovered some adorable baby drag queen dresses. I was summoned to look at them immediately. He was so excited. He might not be interested in Gill’s baby, but he was very interested in clothes for Gill’s baby. He had all the little designer frocks off the rail and spread over the counter examining them. We (he) finally decided on an elaborate dress printed with pictures of snow leopards. I suppose it’s very pretty in an over the top sort of way and has a matching hat. I’m sure Gill will love it.
Time to pick the man up from work. If I leave it much longer I’ll get stuck in traffic and Twinkles doesn’t do waiting, not with grace anyway.
14th November 2005:
For The Fallen
I think keeping a diary has started to improve my writing style a bit. I found it really hard work at first, maybe because I’m more used to report style writing than the chatty personal kind. I enjoy it now and it often helps me unwind. I doubt that my syntax and punctuation will stand too close a scrutiny, but then this is only a humble diary and not a literary tome. I won’t be submitting it for The Booker Prize or anything so a few ill placed commas etc can surely be forgiven.
Work wise it’s been a gloomy Monday. My secretary Claire managed to wipe an important document from the computer. I’ve tried everything to recover the work, but to no avail. She was really upset, so it was hard to be cross with her. I hope Karen does decide to return to work. I miss her. She’s still dithering a bit because the nurseries and childminders that she’s checked out so far haven’t been to her liking. We shall see.
We didn’t go out on Saturday night. Every so often the PP hosts an over 40’s TV singles event, or grab a tranny granny night, as it’s better known. Saturday was it. I suggested that we go out for a meal or to the cinema instead, but Twinkles wasn’t in the mood. He had a headache. I sent him off to have a long soothing soak in the bath while I ordered a Chinese meal and opened a good bottle of red wine. I was looking forward to a quiet night in. We enjoyed our meal and cuddled up on the couch afterwards to watch the Remembrance Day Service on television. Twinkles got very emotional at the end when the silence was observed and thousands of poppy petals floated down from the rafters of The Royal Albert Hall. I must admit that the sight always moves me. It’s awe inspiring, watching all those men and women who served their country standing in respectful silence for their fallen comrades, as the poppies gently cascade around them. I always wonder what they’re seeing with their mind’s eye and what terrible experiences are being re-visited. Twinkles dissolved into tears as soon as the words from the Laurence Binyon poem, ‘For The Fallen,’ were spoken: they shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old, age shall not weary them nor the years condemn... I reached for the box of tissues, which by the time the silence ended, was empty. I think part of his upset this time round was lodged in the fact that Lulu hasn’t spoken to him since Friday night and has blocked all his calls. The sadness and solemnity of the poppy service was a good opportunity to vent his emotions on several levels. I told him not to worry. Lulu would soon relent, he always did.
Friday night at the PP was a little fraught to say the least. Big Mary was in a pig of a mood because everyone kept asking him about his ‘affair’ with suicidal Barry. Twinkles denied all knowledge of having started the rumour, but I could tell by the defensive pitch of his voice that he’d had a hand or rather a tongue in it. He sulkily admitted that he’d mentioned in passing something to Lulu, but that was all. I scathingly pointed out that telling Lulu anything was tantamount to calling a press conference and making a public statement. BM finally exploded when Beardaddy clapped a congratulatory hand to his the back and offered to give him tips on training up his new boy. Storming onto the stage he hijacked Cherie Pie’s microphone and roared that if he discovered who had started the rumour about him and Barry dating he would string them up by the vitals using electricians cable. Twinks and Lulu exchanged terrified glances. BM finished his set by reiterating that he and Barry were just friends, and reminded everyone that Barry was still unwell and didn’t need half arsed rumours circulating about him, thank you. Twinkles pulled a face at Lulu and said in a stage whisper, ‘methinks the bearded lady doth protest too much,’ at which point he and I detoured to the powder room to have a few words about idle gossip. In his own defence he said he had to gossip, it was drag queen law, in fact it was a commandment. I needed to remember where I was and with whom. I echoed BM’s sentiments about Barry not needing anymore upset in his life and threatened to take him home for a discussion if I heard him say one more word on the subject.
He stormed off to the bar and I followed at a more sedate pace groaning when I saw who else was there. Natalie was perched on a stool trying to look alluring in order to catch the eye of the sexy barman who was standing in for Rick while he was on holiday. Luke, the stand in barman, was causing quite a few hearts to flutter throughout the PP. He was referred to as sweet cheeks, because of his love affair with tight jeans and leather trousers. Twinkles gave his order then sweetly asked Natalie if she’d like a cocktail because there was a new one out called ‘not a frigging hope in hell.’ In return Natalie told Twinks that his dress was just lovely and it was amazing what you could pick up at Scout Jumble Sales these days. What a pity it made his arse look so FAT. Twinkles then offered to buy and I quote: ‘a dish of cream for the mangy moggy that’s squatting on your ugly head.’ Natalie, catching Luke’s eye on her, smiled and tried to adopt an attitude of sophisticated disdain by elegantly leaning back and crossing her legs. Sadly she had forgotten that she was sitting on a backless bar stool and ended up heels over wig in a heap on the floor.
Twinkles immediately burst into malicious cackles of laughter. I sharply told him to get back to our table and then hastened to help Natalie up. Fortunately she wasn’t hurt, though her wig was a tad askew. I helped her back up on the stool and told Luke to give her a brandy and Babycham to calm her nerves. He asked if she’d like a nice red cherry speared on a cocktail stick to go with it? Batting her eyelashes she coyly accepted.
I got back to the table to discover Twinkles and Lulu having a heated argument. As I got there Lulu accused Twinkles of being a selfish, jealous bitch who couldn’t bear to see anyone else happy. Snatching up his handbag he said he was going home and flounced off into the sunset. After the incident with Natalie I was inclined to be cross with Twinkles and told him I was absolutely sick and tired of him digging and poking at people until they got upset. He then got upset saying I obviously didn’t like him very much, no one liked him and all he’d done was express concern for his best friend’s welfare. Now his best friend hated him and his own partner had turned against him. He announced his intention of leaving both the PP and me. He was getting a taxi and going to stay with Joan.
I had been hasty in my assessment of the situation. It turns out that for the past week Lulu has been visiting gay chat rooms on the Internet and had st
ruck up a rapport with a man. The man wanted a real life meet and Lulu had agreed. Twinkles told him that it was stupid to meet someone he barely knew and he should think twice about it. Lulu took umbrage and decided to interpret Twinks’ concern as begrudging him happiness. I apologised sincerely to my beloved for my hasty jumping to conclusions and persuaded him not to leave me for my mother. I’m actually in agreement with him on this. I think Lulu is being unwise in agreeing to meet up with this man so soon. The chances are that he’ll be perfectly fine, but there is always a risk involved in taking online relationships offline and into real life. However, Lulu is a grown man with a mind of his own and as I said to Twinkles, if he’s set on meeting this man then there is little that he or I can do to stop him.
15th November 2005:
Neighbours, Sex And Christmas Cake
Lulu and Twinkles are speaking again, but it was a close run thing. Twinkles finally made contact last night and told him that he was only thinking of his well-being and he hoped everything worked out. Lulu accepted that Twinkles’ intentions were good and then confessed that he’d arranged to meet up with his chat room acquaintance this coming Wednesday night. Twinkles tried very hard not to say anything discouraging, but he lost the struggle and caustically asked if watching Doctor Who had taught Lulu nothing about the dangers posed by frigging Cyber-men? He demanded details about the meeting, such as time and venue. Lulu retorted that he already had a mother, thanks very much, and he didn’t need another one. Twinks thrust the phone into my hand and ordered me to ‘tell him, Tarn, tell him he can’t go unless he tells me where he’s meeting this man.’ I told Lulu it was a very sensible idea to let someone know his whereabouts, and it would set Twinkles mind at rest and mine too. He capitulated in exchange for a promise that Miss Stardust would not show up and show him up.
Afterwards, when we were discussing the situation, Twinkles asked me what I’d do if he set up a date with someone from an online chat room. I said I’d ban him from the computer for the rest of his life and keep him safely chained to my side, which strangely was the right answer, because he put his arms around my neck and told me he loved it when I got all possessive and protective. I asked him what he’d do if I did it, and he said he’d frigging shoot me.
The house next door finally got sold. We met our new neighbours for the first time this morning. They actually moved in about a week ago, but I suppose unpacking and setting everything out has been keeping them occupied. Twinks and I were just setting off to work, as obviously they were. I smiled and wished them a good morning and made introductions, naturally giving Twinks his proper birth name of Jonathan. In his usual open way Twinks smiled and told them to call him by his nickname, adding that they only had to ask if they needed a hand with anything. He remembered all too well what a hassle moving in could be. The lady neighbour gave a sort of grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile and said they were managing just fine thanks, and introduced them as being Rachael Brownlow and husband Ray. Ray dispensed with smiles and words and opted for completely ignoring us, snapping at her to get in the car or they’d be late. Averting her eyes from us she quickly complied. Twinkles was outraged. I had to grab his hand to prevent him giving them a two-finger salute as they drove off. Snubbed was the word that sprang readily to mind. We are obviously not a hit with our new neighbours.
Twinks was livid. He did a non-stop character assassination job on them all the way to work: ‘what a big ignorant pig, he needs to loose a stone or two and that’s just from round his neck. He’s losing his hair, did you notice? I hope he goes bald overnight, and that nose would grace a frigging anteater. She wants to be careful as well, hair like straw, too much peroxide. And those earrings, I mean hoops of that size are so common. She must use them as stirrups to hang her ankles from when she’s having sex and for God’s sake who wears printed nylon these days? She must have inherited those clothes from her dead granny. In fact I bet that big ugly bastard strangled the poor cow’s granny just to get the clothes and save a penny or two. He looks mean in more ways than one and what’s wrong with us, are we wearing the wrong deodorant or something?’
I pulled off the road so I could comfort him, as he shed a few tears. He was very hurt as well as insulted. It’s humiliating to offer the hand of friendship and neighbourliness and have it slapped away. Injustice stings. However, you can’t force people to like or accept you. Maybe in time they’ll see that we’re no threat and that we’re just ordinary people like them getting on with life. I said so to Twinkles and he said they weren’t ordinary people they were horrible people. He feels things keenly, especially things pertaining to rejection of any kind. I told him he was not to dwell on it all day. If they wanted to ignore us, fine, let them get on with it. I might as well have saved my breath.
On the way home this evening he started rifling through the groceries he’d bought. He ate an entire pack of Sommerfield cinnamon and oat cookies, plus a mars bar and a family size bag of cheese and onion crisps. Conveyor belt eating is a sure sign he’s brooding. Once we got home he rang Lulu up to tell him all about it, then he called Maryann, then Karen, Val and Sandra, Teddy and Frank next door. Poor Frank. I felt sorry for him. Twinkles demanded that he verify that as far as neighbours go, we are up there with the best of them. Frank kindly obliged.
Twinks then got on to mum and she babied him, which he loves: ‘never you mind, my pet, take no notice, sweetheart. Ignorant beggars.’ They’re not worthy of you, darling.’ Then to his delight she said she’d had a rethink about not making a Christmas cake this year. He had been quite right, and Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a homemade cake, so why didn’t he pop over and help her make it tomorrow night. He loves my mother’s home made fruit cake, but even more than the cake itself he loves the sense of family tradition and ritual that goes with it. He had been gutted when she casually announced that she wasn’t going to bother this year, because it was too much hassle and anyway she was watching her figure now she was dating Priscilla. I thought they were going to fall out over it. He sulked all through Sunday lunch and beyond. So, I suppose you could say our unfriendly new neighbours have at least benefited him in one sense. He’s already planning the icing design for it.
Last, but not least he called Kevin. Rumour had it that Kevin had succeeded where Natalie had failed by scoring with the new barman Luke. He had popped into the PP on Sunday night for a few drinks. He was meeting up with a friend who favours the leather bar to the more flamboyant upper decks, and had therefore left Natalie at home. After telling Kev about our new neighbours Twinkles asked whether Luke shook as good a cocktail in the bedroom as he did behind the bar. I was scandalised and told Twinks he shouldn’t ask for details like that. It was nosy and I hoped he didn’t discuss our bedroom activities so casually? He told me not to get my knickers in a knot and of course he didn’t discuss our bedroom activities, not unless he was exceptionally drunk. Apparently, it’s perfectly fine to discuss casual and early days sexual activity, but the moment a relationship looks in danger of becoming serious the bedroom door gets firmly closed. As far as Kevin was concerned the bedroom door was open wider than a barn door and if Twinks oblique remarks were anything to go by a jolly good time was had by all: ‘as big as that and it was all his own work organic and unmodified, wow. Never…he didn’t…he didn’t…my God that’s what I call agile.’ Queenly shriek! ‘He did what? I’ll have to try that one.’
I have to confess I’m quite looking forward to going to bed tonight. In fact I think it’s time that he and I started to climb the wooden hill to Bedfordshire. With a bit of luck we’ll find some other things fashioned from wood once we reach destination. A good finish might just balance a bad start to the day!
17th November 2005:
My Wife Is Prettier Than Your Wife
The Christmas cake, circa 2005, is made. We went over to mum’s house last night and Twinks happily got stuck in, though inevitably they bickered. He wanted to innovate on the recipe, she didn’t. Mum is a
strict traditionalist, her tradition that is. She also has eyes like a hawk and when Twinks slyly tried to slip an extra something into the mix, she ruthlessly whacked a wooden spoon across the hand that was trying to do the slipping. She didn’t care if Gary Rhodes put walnuts in his Christmas cake. They were not going in hers. Twinks gave up and did it her way. I really enjoy watching him help mum bake. He’s like an eager little boy. At a certain point in the process when all the fruit and eggs and other ingredients are in the bowl mum dispenses with trying to mix them with a spoon and resorts to using her hands to turn and blend the heavy mixture. This is the part that Twinks loves best. He’s in there, sleeves rolled up, rapturous expression on his face as the sticky mixture squelches through his fingers. My sister and I always loved helping with that bit when we were kids. We’d both get our turn at it, making a Christmas wish to be baked into the cake at the same time. Dad would also come into the warm kitchen and take his turn at mixing and wishing. Just the smell of the sweet spices takes me back to those childhood November days and the excitement I felt because the making of the cake heralded the run up to Christmas. Soon afterwards Maryann and I would be making our lists for Santa Claus. It was all part of the fabric of my childhood. Twinkles never had those kinds of experiences with his family. He was emotionally deprived. I really do believe that. He was a child and is now a man of pure emotion. He feels first and adds thought later. His childhood was materially much better than average, but emotionally speaking he was utterly starved of the affection and attention he needed to feed his spirit.