i am in a wi fi access gay bar
right ... 25th december ... my girlfriend of many years has gone home to her family in the deep south (M4 corridor, not alabama) to say that she may have breast cancer ... we're not yet sure because the NHS process has taken weeks and weeks and the conclusive biopy won't happen until the new year ... we've also had a shitty four months as her dad's been killed in a car crash in the autumn (her more than me of course but being the partner of the bereaved has a crapness all of its own) .... meanwhile i plan to spend xmas with my parents in the north-east of scotland but my mother (addicted to antibiotics and corticosteroids, psychologically at least) decides that she's too 'ill' for xmas and cancels it ... i turn to football as an alternative but it snows and all sports are wiped off the calendar while general stress and winter lurgy gives me something that makes bird flu look like a mild sniffle ...

spend xmas day on my own in edinburgh, discharging unreasonable amounts of iridescent green pulmonary phlegm into a dirty t shirt (bog roll was inadequate for the quantities), eating sainsbury's pasta and playing marathon (a mac shoot-em-up, FYI youngsters) ...

the worst xmas ever

what? birthday? oh fuck off

no she didn't have breast cancer (for which i am eternally grateful) but we split up six months later ...

the best one? ... another story entirely

birthdays? don't talk to me about birthdays



* a man with a moustache just patted my back, but it's ok as i have bad clothes and am drinking foaming cask ale and had sex with girls twice in november ...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Mon 12 Dec 2005, 18:24, Reply)