by Swan, Tarn
I told Twinkles to accept defeat with grace and congratulate Teddy and Maurice. After all they were his friends. I also said he should be proud at coming second on as small a margin as one point. It was almost a joint first.
He didn't frigging think so! For a start drag queens didn't have friends they had enemies and rivals and for another, second was second there was no joint about it and it wasn't fair! Teddy only came to the PP when there was a special event on. He wasn't a faithful regular like him and Lulu. He'd only entered the competition to spite them. He was also a cheat. He and Maurice had developed the routine for an event in Blackpool last year. They were almost professionals. He was going to demand that Brian disqualify them.
I wouldn't allow him to even approach Brian on the subject. Teddy and Maurice had won. He was just going to have to get over it. I told him if he couldn't muster enough self-control to be at least polite to them then we were going home early.
We duly returned home early where we had words after he accused me of being the caster of the one point that won tubby Teddy and mincing Maurice the trophy. I closed the subject and when we retired to bed he kept his back to me. Awaking to another day of pouring rain did little to smooth his jagged mood.
Saturday was supposed to be halcyon. It was supposed to be sunny in a summer painting by Monet kind of way - all bathed in a romantic warm glow. He had it all worked out in his head, just as he'd had it all worked out that he would win the Charleston trophy. He doesn't like it when reality falls short of his dreams. There's always an earthquake aftershock period until he comes to terms with the reality and gets on with it.
Raising his secretion-streaked countenance from my shoulder he tragically declared that everything was spoiled. I said nonsense, we weren't going to allow a bit of rain to ruin an event we'd talked about and planned in meticulous detail for weeks. To which he replied that it wasn't a bit of a rain it was a frigging monsoon, followed by, “I'm not going, Tarn. I mean it. I'm not going and you can't make me.”
The words and the challenging way he delivered them told me all I needed to know. This was my call. He was handing it to me. He was too upset to make a reasoned decision on his own behalf. In short he wanted me to fulfil my role and Top him. He wanted me to take the agony of decision away from him and make it so he had no room to manoeuvre. If it all turned belly up it would be entirely my responsibility. Such is the price of power. I obliged.
Pulling the sleeve of my sweatshirt down over my hand I used it to wipe his face and told him he had no choice in the matter. I was pulling rank. As domestic commanding officer I was commanding he accompany me, end of story. The tickets were paid for and not refundable. The hire cars were paid for and I wasn't prepared to throw away all the work we'd done. We had wellies and fishing umbrellas and waterproofs, so there was no problem. We were British for heaven's sake! We laughed in the face of adversity. He said it wasn't adversity that bothered him it was the sheeting rain. He wanted sunshine, was it unreasonable to expect sunshine in August?
I told him once we arrived at our destination he would enjoy it and the weather would be irrelevant. He satisfied his sense of independence by stating that if it were still raining when we got there he wasn't getting out of the car. He then went back to bed for a rest before getting ready.
The event in question was a Last Night of the Proms kind of affair. It’s an annual event at a stately home in Yorkshire called Castle Howard. It's a beautiful place and has often been used by film and television crews as a location, most famously for a TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited. The concert takes place in the Mansion grounds in the open air and all that's provided is the entertainment. Everything else you take yourself, not only food and drink but also the table and chairs to eat it from and any necessary shelter in the form of umbrellas and waterproofs. What you do is literally take everything but the kitchen sink, barring tents and gazebos, which are not permitted. You then pitch a camp and enjoy an evening in beautiful surrounding listening to nostalgic and patriotic classics played and sung by a professional orchestra and opera singers. People dress up and compete to see who can create the most lavish picnic scene.
There was a large contingent of us going from the PP. I was driving Twinkles, Brian, Lulu, Kevin, Teddy and Maurice, while Big Mary had volunteered to drive Cherie, Gloria, Rick, Val and Sandra. Barry had declined. He didn't think he could cope with an event involving such vast numbers of people. We all tried to coax him into changing his mind, but he was adamant and in the end we respected his decision. Never a confident person, the breakdown and long period of hospitalisation has eroded his social confidence still further, something that therapy will hopefully reverse.
By the time everyone had gathered and the cars were loaded the rain had stopped, which upped our spirits tremendously. We were all dressed up to a degree in clothes that mirrored the atmosphere of the concert. Twinks, Lulu and Kevin had opted for identical Union Jack mini dresses, which were so short they barely covered their backsides. Thankfully they had Union Jack shorts on underneath. They were also wearing long blonde wigs streaked red white and blue, topped off with glittering tiaras and feather boas. Brian dubbed them the John Bull Glamour Triplets. Cherie and Gloria were in forties style evening gowns complete with opera gloves and fur stoles. Cherie's stole was one of those dusty real fox fur things with glass eyes and a miffed expression. Twinks cheekily asked if she'd strangled it herself, which earned him a clout from Miss Pie.
Teddy and Maurice were in Britannia costumes complete with plastic shields, helmets and tritons. I overheard Twinks making a remark to Lu about where he'd like to insert the shank end of the tritons. Taking him to one side I warned him what I would do if he caused a scene with Teddy and Maurice, even if it meant taking him into the disgusting confines of a portaloo on site to do it. He gave me a thoughtful look and asked what I’d do if Lu caused a scene, after all he’d been just as upset at being robbed. Wagging a finger I said I'd hold him personally responsible so he'd better keep Lu in line or he'd still get an accompanied trip to a portaloo. He stuck his tongue out at me and flounced off.
Big Mary had turned glamour on its head. He was wearing a frumpy dress over which he'd put a Union Jack pinny. His wig was a joke affair comprised of super size hair rollers around which he'd tied a Union Jack headscarf. His piece de resistance was a huge red white and blue feather duster. With a cigarette dangling from the corner of his exaggerated ruby red lips he declared he'd come as a nineteen forties housewife. He looked like one of the bearded housewives from the Bounty ads on telly.
Brian looked handsome in full kilt regalia. I'd opted for a white dress shirt, black bow tie and black dinner jacket worn with jeans and black wellies. Val and Sandra looked très chique in mock up WAAF uniforms. Rick was wearing what Lu and Twinks termed his GALFAL gear (gay and looking for a lay) It comprised of skin tight, package hugging white cycle shorts and a glittery Union Jack vest top that had the words run me up your pole and fly me emblazoned across the back along with his email address. Lu sweetly told him that if he were any more of a scrubber he'd have bristles instead of hair. Rick grinned and said that was rich coming from someone who'd given more rides than a Blackpool beach donkey.
Our optimism that the weather had taken a turn for the better proved short lived. As we approached the Howardian Hills the cloud thickened and an ominous rumbling indicated we were driving into a thunderstorm. The heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents. At one point the car was virtually aquaplaning through floodwater as it poured off the hills onto the road spraying up from beneath the car wheels like a geyser. I began to question the wisdom of carrying on. The concert would surely be cancelled if the weather continued to worsen.
Brian contacted the concert box office on his mobile asking for information. He was told the concert was still scheduled to go ahead. The weather forecast promised clearer skies by the time it was due to start at around seven o clock.
We got to the venue, were directed to a parking bay and
sat miserably looking out of the streaming windows, watching hardier souls than us begin to unload their paraphernalia and head off into the Castle grounds. One party unloaded a wooden door from the roof of their car, set it atop some pram wheels, loaded it up with bags, boxes and hampers, threw a tarpaulin over it, secured it with a bit of rope and happily wheeled it across the waterlogged parking area. A pine dining table beneath which resided two men in striped blazers and straw boaters floated by and with a grin Brian laced his hands together, cracked his knuckles and roared, “all right, boys and girls, we can either sit here like a bunch of pansies or we can get this show on the road.”
Mustering our British Bulldog spirit and donning wet weather wear we all piled out of the car and began to unload the contents of the boots onto the porter's trolleys we'd brought with us. Twinkles did his share, but he was quiet and miserable. He isn't your hardy outdoor type and this wasn't how it was supposed to be. I gave him a damp hug of encouragement.
Once loaded we joined the snaking queue of other concertgoers heading towards the castle gates. It was only about half past five at that point, but despite the weather hundreds of people had already gathered. Because of the possessions being carried the whole thing had a refugee kind of look and feel about it, only with an air of determined anticipation rather than despondency, if you discounted poor Twinks' aura that is. How subdued he felt was emphasised when one of Teddy's carrier bags snagged on a shrub and ripped, spewing the contents onto the wet ground. Twinks didn't so much as smirk. Instead he helped him gather everything up and redistribute it into other bags. Teddy was grateful. I think he too was struggling to remain cheerful in the face of the conditions.
Big Mary provided some light relief when we got into the grounds by pointing his soggy duster in the direction of the lake and bawling, “that's the bloody gentry for you, not only do they have bigger houses than anyone else, but they have bigger puddles on their lawn.” He caused more mirth when he ran a finger over one of the security men's hats, declared it filthy and proceeded to feather dust it.
By the time we found a pitch, laid out groundsheets, set up windbreaks, unfolded the pasting tables and covered them with cloths and laid out our food and drink and lanterns to be lit as dusk fell, the rain had slowed to a light drizzle. As we unfolded chairs and set up umbrellas the rain stopped altogether and a break was sighted in the clouds.
Once comfortably seated with a blanket tucked around his knees and a glass of champagne in his hand Twinks' mood lifted. Giving me a smile he began to enter into the spirit of the occasion. He noted how lovely the location was and took an interest in the other concertgoers and their costumes, none of which were as good as ours of course.
The rain respectfully held off. The clouds parted and allowed the sun to show its face. We had a wonderful evening. The concert officially began with the arrival of a World War Two Spitfire plane. It came in from behind the castle, as the orchestra played the Dam Busters theme. As it soared overhead a great cheer went up with everyone waving flags. Watching that beautiful, historic product of engineering genius dive and turn in the air brought home just how much we as a nation owed to the men who piloted such planes during the war, in fact to all those who served their country in the name of freedom. It gave the silliness we were engaged in some real weight and depth.
By the time it headed back from whence it had come there were quite a few teary eyes. We sang Jerusalem, Land of Hope & Glory and Rule Britannia, as if it mattered and we really believed in it all, as we did at that moment in time. The concert closed with a fabulous firework display and then it was time to pack everything away and trawl back to the cars, at which point the rain began to softly fall once again. Twinks and Co were too happily inebriated to even notice let alone care as they staggered an erratic course back to the car park.
By the time I'd dropped off all my passengers it was heading for half past two in the morning and Twinks, bless him, was fast asleep and snoring. A memorable event indeed!
Have to go. I'm being summoned by royal command to make a hot drink. My beloved has a bad cold. He's holed up on the couch under a blanket. The symptoms began to show on Sunday evening and of course it's all my fault for making him sit on a wet, chilly hillside with next to no clothes on.
25th August 2006: Reality Check
Woof! Woof! I'm in the doghouse this evening. Twinkles loathes me. My name is not so much Tarn as Tarnish. I am a dulling veneer upon the shiny sequin soul of his existence - you get the general picture. Why? I’ll tell you!
He called me from work this afternoon to ask clearance to buy something from a nomadic salesman who had called in at the shop. I said no. He attempted to negotiate, but I refused to budge. He pleaded. He really wanted this item. If I saw it I would understand. I still said no. He hung up after muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a slur on my legitimacy.
There were two reasons I said no to his request. The first and most important reason being a stand on a point of principle. Heavy stuff? Well, yes and no. All relationships have a foundation of principles. They might not be obvious or even ever put into words. They remain silent and only when the principle is violated is it given verbal expression. For example an intrinsic principle of many marriages and partnerships regardless of gender mix is fidelity and only when one partner breaks fidelity does the principle or rule come to the fore and become a point of discussion.
In our kind of relationship there tends to be a more tangible form of agreed and accepted rules, nothing written on stone and signed in blood you understand. Rules have to have some fluidity to take into account differing circumstances. However, there is one un-fluid aspect of our relationship and that is its hierarchy, of which I'm head. Twinkles likes me being in charge, both in a sexual and emotional sense. He likes having someone to answer to. He likes knowing that there's someone willing and strong enough to curb his excesses.
Naturally enough there are times when my dominant position is a source of major annoyance and inconvenience to him, like today when I refused him permission to buy something he wanted. I could easily have said yes. The choice was mine to make as the dominant partner. The reason I didn't was, as I already said, partly to do with principle.
Let me see if I can explain. From time to time Twinks flouts the rules our relationship is based on and in so doing he flouts my authority. We all try to bend and manipulate rules to suit ourselves, a bit of flouting here and there is endemic to human nature. By and large I'm fairly tolerant, but there comes a point, especially in a relationship like ours (and by that I mean the one between Twinks and me. I don't claim to speak for anyone else) when a firm stance has to be taken in order to preserve and reaffirm the structure of the relationship or else there's a risk it will crumble. In short it’s sometimes necessary for me to assert my authority in an unequivocal manner.
After the reindeer in the loft fiasco I imposed a credit limit on him for a month, whereby he wasn't allowed to use his cards for purchases over twenty quid without first seeking my permission. It was a token punishment, more symbolic than anything. It didn't really hinder his day-to-day financial freedom. There were no restrictions on his cash spending. However, that's by the by, token or not I expected him to adhere to my ruling and he did, or so I thought.
On the Monday following our array of dramas from grey hairs to chocolate moles I was in the kitchen having breakfast. Twinks was still in bed, it being his day off. The doorbell rang heralding the arrival of a very soggy postman bearing a small parcel, which was the wrong size and shape to squash through the letterbox. The parcel was addressed to me, which puzzled me, as I hadn't ordered anything. I tried and failed to make out the fuzzy postmark thinking it might be a present from my aunt in Scotland, some homemade shortbread or fudge tablet perhaps. She often sends small gifts.
As it happened it wasn't shortbread and nor was it actually my parcel. It was for Twinkles. The label was creased and what I had thought was a T was in fact a J. I frowned when I saw the contents.
Just what he needed, more gunk for his face, as if the dressing table and the bathroom cabinet weren't already overloaded with stuff. I was annoyed and not just because of the obscene price he’d paid.
Taking box and contents up to the bedroom I barked at him to sit up, as I wanted to discuss something with him. He didn't need ESP to realise he was in bother. Sitting up he hugged his knees defensively asking what had put me in such a foul mood, had the postman refused me a morning kiss?
I thrust the invoice at him explaining I'd opened the parcel by mistake and was not happy at what I'd found in it. Giving a sulky pout he suggested I invest in a good pair of specs then I wouldn't go round opening parcels and reading invoices that weren't meant for me. I told him I'd made an honest mistake, whereas there was nothing honest about what he'd done. Sulky pout turned to angry scowl and he told me not to start bloody nagging because he'd ordered a few basic essentials. It was just a bit of moisturiser. Surely I didn't want him to get wrinkles before his time. He’d already got a grey hair. It was a sign he needed to be vigilant and start taking precautions.
I asked if he’d been smitten with temporary amnesia when ordering the items, regarding the penalty he was under for the reindeer fiasco. Or perhaps I was the one struck down with amnesia, as I had absolutely no recollection of him asking my approval to buy not just one tube of cream priced at fifty pounds, but two of them, bringing the total to a whopping one hundred pounds - eighty pounds in excess of the limit I had set on his credit spending. There was nothing basic about that!
He pointed out he'd got ten percent discount for buying more than one tube. Seeing as post and packing had more than wiped out any saving made in that respect I remained unimpressed.
His face suddenly brightened. He gleefully pointed out that according to his mental maths, his period of credit restriction was actually over that very morning. Therefore there was no crime to answer to and no need for me to get my knickers in a knot.