by Swan, Tarn
The miserable Minister frostily asked if we'd finished desecrating the grave and could he continue with the service. I nodded with as much dignity as I could muster. I could cheerfully have strangled Twinks and thrown him back into the grave to be buried with my curmudgeonly distant relative.
I couldn't get away fast enough afterwards, mouthing condolences and shaking hands at record-breaking speed before dragging Twinkles out of the cemetery. I can’t take him anywhere without him causing a rumpus, not that I'd wanted to take him to the funeral in the first place. He’d never even met my dad's great uncle who was about ninety-eight years old when he died. I was more than happy to play family representative on my own, but he insisted on tagging along to support me. It was a means to an end really. He fancied a day in York, saying he'd been cooped up too long. We could head for the city shops after the funeral was over.
As we walked back to the car he reminded me he was still convalescing from his kidney infection and I had to be gentle with him. Besides it would be very cruel to spank a man who had just had a near death experience, even if the death he'd been near wasn't his own. I said three little words: “shut up, Jonathan!”
By the time we reached the car his fright and embarrassment had given way to a fit of the giggles, as he recalled the look on my face when he plunged into the grave and the look on everyone else's face as we scrambled out like a couple of zombies. His mirth proved infectious. It was nice to see him laughing and looking all cheeky and bright eyed. I forgave him the strife he had caused me.
He was so ill with the kidney infection. I feared for him. He picked up fairly quickly once they got intravenous antibiotics and fluids into him. The doctors don't think there's been any permanent damage or scarring to his kidneys. He came out of hospital on Saturday afternoon and needs to take it easy for a while.
We didn't stay long in York yesterday. He tired quickly and I curtailed the shopping trip and headed home. More later. Twinks is perusing the shopping channel. I need to go and discourage him from buying expensive junk we don't need.
27th September 2006: Conkered!
Gabby paid us a visit after school today. She wanted Twinkles to take her conker hunting on the Green before all the best ones got snaffled. I told her he wasn't well enough to go scrambling around in the damp looking for conkers. Besides I didn't fancy having to rescue him from a tree like I did last year. She asked if I would take her instead. Steeling myself to resist her Shrek cat look, the one Twinkles is powerless against, I said no as I had things to do. I could have resisted the look easily, but she compounded it by slipping her hand into mine at the same time and adding a sad little, please, Tarn.
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Twinkles held open the front door as I exited the premises to go conker hunting with the girl next door. My concession to being in control was adding, “but just for half an hour.” We found a few good sized conkers and I must admit I rather enjoyed the brief reunion with my boyhood self, as I hurled sticks up into the chestnut trees to bring down the prickly green cases in time honoured fashion.
My dad is holidaying in Spain with Gill and the baby at the moment, which is why I got tasked with attending his great uncle's funeral as his representative. The old man passed away peacefully in his sleep. He'd had a long life and he retained his independence and his marbles right up until the end, some kind of achievement for a man of ninety-eight summers. Still the passing of a life is always sad, a breath exhaled and absorbed back into the formless universe. Yep, I know, the autumn blues have struck and I'm coming over poetical.
Twinkles is still on the sick from work. He’ll probably go back next week. I took a few days off so I could keep an eye on him when he came out of hospital, but I go back tomorrow. He's much better than he was, but getting him to drink the advised six to eight glasses of water a day is hard going. Anyone would think he was being poisoned. Of course if it were six to eight glasses of booze there would be no problem. Alcohol is off the menu and so is penetrative sex, at least until I know he's completely over this infection. I'm too afraid of causing him discomfort and triggering it off again.
He wasn't in the mood for sex when he was really ill, but his appetite has returned. He woke me up at two this morning to say he'd had a porno dream and if I spanked his monkey he'd not only spank mine back he'd slap it senseless while recounting the sordid details of his dirty dream. I happily obliged.
When I woke up this morning I was lying on my side and he was spooning me, his face resting on my shoulder as he slept against me. Should he be the one to leave first I think I’ll miss such morning contact most of all. I like waking up with the man I love. I like the feeling of security and contentment it gives me.
28th September 2006: Musings
Twinkles is out for the count. He has been since ten this evening when he fell asleep on the couch while we were watching telly. I put him to bed, but I can't sleep. I tried, but just couldn’t drop off. The autumn blues seem to be getting to me more than usual this year. I feel restless and dispirited. Perhaps it's something to do with Twinks' illness, I don't know. I returned to work today and found quite a few problems waiting for me, so I don't suppose that helped.
Lulu called round earlier this evening. He was all upset because someone he thought was a friend online in computer land has snubbed him and he's wondering what he's done wrong. Online life can be strange. You form contacts with people whose faces you will never see and whose voices you will never hear and yet, these faceless, voiceless people, can hurt you more than any real life person. It’s absurd, a modern phenomenon.
Twinkles asked for the email address of the person concerned so he could write to them on Lu's behalf, but Lu wisely withheld it. He was much happier by the time he left us, having persuaded us to place orders for several packs of Christmas cards, some wrapping paper and matching tags from the catalogue he just happened to have about his person. I swear that boy is a natural born salesman. He'll sting us for more long before the season is upon us.
5th October 2006: Inconsequential Shoes
Today did not go well. Autumn is making itself felt with chillier mornings. Twinks decided it was high time he swapped his summer shoes for hardier wear in the form of his beloved pink sequinned boots. Only, having served faithfully for over three winters his boots decided to be recalcitrant in the form of a loose sole. To make matters worse it was Don's day off. Susie was on holiday and Tina called in sick, so he ended up bootless and working alone all day with Pat.
By the time I arrived to pick him up he was in a mare of a mood and waded into me with all hooves blazing. I was late! Did I think he had nothing better to do than wait around for me in the cold and damp? The traffic jam on the bridge was also my fault. If I'd arrived on time we would have missed it.
We finally got home and he slipped thankfully into his pink fluffy mules, only to have a heel break on him. All hell let loose as he kicked off the wounded mule with a barrage of furious complaints about frigging traitorous footwear.
I'd had a rough day at work. There’s talk about closing my entire department and relocating the centre of operation to Bristol. I was in no mood for drama queen theatrics and tantrums over pretty inconsequential shoes. I walloped his backside and then felt awful about it. Did I spank him because he deserved to be spanked or did I spank him because I was feeling bad and needed to off load my own tension? Relationships in general are never easy, but relationships like ours are even less so.
I thought the matter over as I made dinner, concluding that he had deserved to be disciplined. He’s far too fond of throwing tantrums and chucking stuff around when things don’t suit him. I get sick and tired of fielding his bad tempered missiles.
After dinner I told him about the relocation rumours at work. He’s been quiet ever since. I can’t say I blame him. If it comes about it will mean massive changes in our life. I don't even want to think about it at this juncture.
8th October 2006: Drag Cabs
The Pink Parrot was abandon
ed last Friday in favour of attending the opening of a brand new nightclub in town called The Che Cuban Carnival Bar. The mouthful of a name clearly displays its theme. It has limbo dancing competitions, fire-eaters, showgirls and carnival processions along with fruit encrusted, overpriced cocktails and tequila shots. It was not my idea of fun at all. It was also mainly oriented towards young straight people. With the PP contingent being in full showgirls drag we attracted attention. Sadly we also attracted some ugly verbal abuse.
The club's resident 'host' for want of a better word, dressed as the green faced Mask character and calling himself Cuban Pete, latched onto our group and in the name of entertainment made a series of crude jokes and remarks about ‘gay boys, lesbo’s and trannies.’ I’m not a violent man, but I could have happily punched his teeth out.
The final straw was when Twinks and Natalie fell out during a limbo dancing competition and had one of their spats. Twinkles started it. He accused Natalie of standing too close to the pole during his turn and jiggling it loose when he was trying to shimmy underneath it, thus disqualifying him. By way of vengeance he deliberately trod on the trailing ends of Natalie's feather bustle as she walked away, causing it to detach and leaving her standing in what amounted to a skimpy red bikini and high heels. A chorus of whistles and lewd remarks ensued. That was it for me. Show time over!
After preventing Natalie from separating Twinkles' head from his body, I slipped my jacket around her shoulders to preserve her modesty, snarled at Cuban Pete to fuck off, as he appeared on the scene to take advantage, snatched up the stricken bustle, thrust it at Twinkles to carry, collected Lulu who was the worse for tequila and cocktails and headed homewards.
Lulu was apt to be sulky at being removed so abruptly from the premises. He tried to say 'without so much as a by your leave,' but was too drunk to get the words out in the right order. I made no apology. I didn't like the atmosphere in the club and given how dizzy Lulu can be when he's sober never mind drunk I wasn't risking him making his own way home. The Che Cuban Carnival Bar is now completely out of bounds to Twinkles. High handed? I don't give a shit. My partner’s safety is all that matters to me. Che Bar had an aura I didn't like.
On Saturday I managed to become a hero once again. I tracked down a cobbler who was not only able to re-sole and heel Twinks’ pink sequinned boots, but who also re-stitched some of the sequins that had come adrift over time. The boots looked as good as new. Twinks was delighted.
My hero status was confirmed when I brought forth the brand new pair of pink fluffy mules I've had secreted away for some time. Miss Stardust was complete once again.
He's insisting I shift my arse away from the computer, as he wants me to give him a lift over to Lulu's house and then lift him and Lulu over to Kevin's place, before finally lifting all three of them to Teddy and Maurice's palace. I’ll then have to do the lifting thing in reverse order, after they've consumed their fill of cocktails and canapés of course.
Some days I feel I'm nothing more than a transvestites taxi service. Maybe I could set up in business. Drag Cabs: ferrying queens a speciality.
9th October 2006: For Better or Worse
What do you get if you cross a microwave, a toilet roll and Twinkles? I'll tell you. Utter chaos! Admittedly I'm a tad on the crabby side at the moment. The situation at work is preying on my mind and sapping my stores of patience. However, I defy anyone to stay calm in the face of arriving home from work looking forward to a nice hot shower, only to find the bathroom is engaged, not by another user, but in going up in flames, while the landing is clogged with firemen busily hosing it down.
Frank, Katie and Gabby were out on the street comforting Twinkles. I demanded to know what the hell had happened. I mean a kitchen going up in flames I could understand, but a bathroom? My mind ran riot. Twinkles tried to make me promise not to be cross, but I declined. I felt I owed it to myself to keep my options open with regard to whether or not I got cross. He told me. I was cross.
I'm still a bit cross to be honest, but there comes a point when you have to let crossness go and replace it with something softer, so more later. Twinks needs a hug from his crabby husband. After all I did promise to take him for better or worse.
22nd October 2006: Tight Fisted Faggot
My man and I have been going through a rough patch. I suppose it happens in the best of relationships. The pressures of work and pressures of life lead you to forget what's important. You forget what you mean to each other and get wrapped up in stress. We've talked little, touched less and laughed not at all. He's spent more time with friends and I've concentrated on work.
I’ve been travelling non-stop, first down to Bristol and then Birmingham for meetings regarding the proposed change in my department's centre of operation. It's all very stressful and not just for me. My colleagues are understandably anxious about the possible threat to their livelihoods, so work isn't exactly a haven to escape to from the tensions of home.
Twinks is angry with me for being a source of threat to his world. He hates the idea of being uprooted and having to move away from all our friends and family. I keep telling him that nothing is definite yet. We have to wait and see, but the possibility is there and it isn't easy to dismiss. I'm as upset as he is at the prospect of an upheaval I feel guilty that he might have to give up his job and seek new employment. Panzer Pat aside it’s a job that suits him because it's a community, a small island where he feels safe. Twinks isn't a big corporate kind of employee. The business he works for is a rarity these days. There are very few small family owned shops in operation. I'm worried to death about the affects a huge lifestyle change could have on him, and on our relationship.
Things came to a head on Saturday night when I got home from Birmingham. I was scheduled to come home on Friday, but another meeting came up and I stayed over. Twinks wasn't pleased, neither was I, but there was little I could do about it. I was tired. The traffic on the return journey was chronic. I ended up being on the road for seven hours. I just wanted to get home and relax. When I finally did make it home, he wasn't there.
There was a terse little note on the kitchen table. It said he, Lulu and Kevin had gotten tickets for a drag review at a nightclub in Leeds. They were getting the train there and making an occasion of it, putting up at a hotel overnight and then going shopping in Leeds on Sunday. To say I was put out would be the understatement of the year. I was pissed right off.
Part of my annoyance was because I was sexually frustrated. I’m a red-blooded man and he and I usually share a very active sex life. While sex hadn't been to the forefront of my mind, it had resonated fairly consistently in the background of it. I’d been looking forward to conjugals. The only thing keeping me sane on the drive home was a fantasy involving him bending naked over the bed with me standing naked behind him.
I was also hurt by his absence. It was the first time in our relationship that he hadn't been there to greet me after a period of separation and moreover Sunday was my birthday. Since meeting him I'd never celebrated a birthday alone. It all felt wrong and threatening.
I stuck the kettle on, made myself a mug of coffee and took it and my bags upstairs to begin unpacking. Nature filed a request and I headed to the bathroom. Opening the door I all but rocked back on my heels. The desire to pass water was replaced with a desire to pass out. I closed the door convinced I was hallucinating and then opened it again. It was the same.
When I went away the bathroom was a scorched and sorry mess as a result of the fire. How it happened could only happen to Twinkles. He had been cleaning the bathroom and managed to knock the toilet roll into the bath. He’d just rinsed the bath so the roll got soggy. It was the last loo roll we had. He couldn't be bothered traipsing to the shop for another pack. He had the bright idea of bunging the soggy roll of bottom wipes into the microwave to dry out. It worked. The roll was crinkly, but dry and useable.
He set it back on top of the cistern and covered it with loo roll Dolly. Dolly was a joke present mum mad
e for him. She was a hand knitted glamour drag queen complete with big hair and full skirts, which hid the loo roll from those of a delicate disposition. I feel obliged to issue a warning here - never dry out loo roll in a microwave because long after you have removed it the microwaves keep on cooking it at the centre and eventually it bursts into flames, as ours did. Once the toilet roll started to burn so did Dolly and then the blinds caught fire and soon the bathroom was blazing merrily. The entire house could have gone up in flames.
Thus far our insurance company is dragging its feet over paying out for the fire damage. I'd told him we were not going to redecorate until we'd heard back from them and knew where we stood in terms of budget.
Yet there I was staring at a freshly decorated bathroom. It had even been re-tiled from top to bottom. I have to admit it is beautiful. The tiles were a lapis lazuli effect and I knew without a doubt they hadn't come from Glynn Webb's discount warehouse. Beauty aside I was furious with him for going against my wishes not to mention behind my back. He hadn't so much as hinted at the project during my phone calls home.
We keep all household receipts in a drawer in the kitchen. I hastened down there. Sitting at the kitchen table I stared in disbelief at the amount he'd pledged for the Italian tiles alone. Then there was an expensive new screen door for the shower, a heated towel rail, new light fitting, paint, flooring and blinds. He'd spent a fortune. No way would the insurance cover it, that’s if we got anything at all.