Tuesday, 26 August 2008

Tuesday 26/08/08

So what else has happened is that I have now found my housemate in Sydney, a housemate that is a friend of friends (whom I hardly know really) on facebook, which I suppose is as good a guarantee as any. And this is a person that is Australian, but not from Sydney, and is moving to Sydney around the same time as me so we’re planning to find a place together. Right at this point I’m thinking maybe I won’t show him the blog yet, I don’t want to scare him away: we need to find a place, sign the contract, move in, live together for three, possibly four months, and then maybe he will be ready. Not that I don’t expect this house share to fall through before I move over to Sydney anyway like everything else always does.


And it’s Friday when I finish work, meet up with Scott and we catch a train up to Manchester. I lived in Manchester from September 2001 to March 2004 and I haven’t been back since. Also, when I lived in Manchester I wasn’t gay, well maybe I was, but nobody knew, not even me. This weekend I’m going back up to Manchester, because:


a) I want to visit my best friend Andrews, who I lived with back then, then he left a while after I left, and now he’s moved back there

b) It’s Manchester Pride this weekend, and as I’m so immensely proud to be gay, because it’s always so comfortable when you meet new people or start a new job and somebody asks you if you have a girlfriend and you have to mumble “erm…I’m actually gay”, so I can’t miss any Pride event around the country

c) I am doing some more ridiculous “work” up there, of the same sort that I did in Soho Pride the week before


So we get there on Friday at 1825 or something and Andrews with his boyfriend pick us up from the train station and drive us to their flat (sorry – apartment, they refer to it as an “apartment”), an apartment which has two bedrooms, is on the 7th floor of a very nice brand new development and has floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking a canal, lots of space everywhere and Korres toiletries, and they pay about 25% less rent per month than I do for my ridiculous, deteriorating little flat in Central West London.


In the evening we head out and this is when my first work shift is. This work shift (and the two subsequent ones, really) involve Scott and me having the name of some website painted on out chests and standing there, either on Manchester’s gay street or in some club. I used to object to things like that and think that people who did them were almost subhuman, so feel free to make your own judgements too, I know I would. But right now, faced with only four and a half more weeks of a regular income and subsequent to that a big void of uncertainly, I have let my standards slip quite significantly. Maybe this is how people feel about prostitution; maybe this is the next logical step.


So we’re out doing that and the best thing that happens during that night is that, now wait, there isn’t one. Instead, I get involved in several random conversations like this:


Drunken guy who comes up to me: “I suppose you have to have a certain physique to do this job”

Me: “Well I suppose, yes”

Drunken guy: “And shave your chest”

Me: “I don’t shave my chest”

Drunken guy: “Yeah, OK. How old are you”

Me: “28”

Drunk guy: “And you don’t shave your chest? Right. What’s your name?”

Me: “___” (my real name)

Drunken guy: “That’s not your real name, is it”


If you’re outside London you are not allowed to have a name that is not Matt, or Rob or Ben or something. Foreign people don’t exist there so if I have an unusual name I’m obviously lying. Ah, the North. I remember how it was always an adventure going in shops and every time I opened my mouth to ask for something people did a double take. Every single time. On a daily basis. Maybe that’s why I’ve ended up so quiet these days – the trauma of talking to anyone.

Also have I mentioned how much I hate drunken people? I hate drunken people. I just can’t deal with them.


Then we get home and then we sleep.


On Saturday evening we go out for dinner and then after that Scott and I go out for a bit more “work”. This time we’re working at the biggest party of the weekend, one of the usual Pride parties with thousands of people in a massive venue walking around aimlessly trying to find some quick thrills and each other. I am not up for any quick thrills of course, so I just stand there for a couple of hours as I’m paid to do, and then we catch a taxi home.


On Sunday there isn’t much time to do anything, apart from catch a train back to London, a journey which requires a stop in Birmingham and five hours to get to London.

33 comments:

rhino75 said...

hehe, careful, your joie-de-vivre may start to get the better of you! :)

James said...

No spacing between the paragraphs and no pictures of shirtless activity? What have you done with the real LP?

London Preppy said...

I've tried to fix the non-spacing. I don't know why it's not working

jhkirkendall said...

I, too, am shocked by the lack of photographs in this entry. Its enough to make one question the veracity of this story.

--Joe in L.A.

London Preppy said...

I just did some research and found that I've onlu posted pictures (of myself) in 10 out of the 30 latest entries. 12 out of the 30 latest if you count pictures of other/famous people. So I don't post pictures all that often

Tim in Italy said...

Four and a half weeks. That carries a note of finality with it. Are you thrilled, a bit apprehensive, or both?

j said...

unrealized dreams and failed plans are my thing. get your own thing.

Gav Dublin said...

You should really show your blog to your new flat/apartment sharing person. That way, if he finds it funny, and, lets be honest, if he does not he must be a boob, you have a good pointer to the fact that you will get on.

Now Preppy, you forgot the most important information about your possibly new flat/apartment sharing person. Is he straight and very good looking, thus giving you countless blogging hours of angst filled posts.

AlwaysReadySF said...

I couldn't agree more on drunk people.

I cannot think of anything worse than slurring, grabby and mildly unattractive gays who think that just because they are drunk in a bar or a club they are allowed to touch or be inappropriate beyond any remotely acceptable threshold.

Except, of course, if they are hot and I want to sleep with them.

[insert smiley]

jhkirkendall said...

Those statistics are all well and good, but you're robbing us of an opportunity to see you shirtless and prideful.

--Joe in L.A. (I'm kidding. Kind of)

Superchilled said...

And rather than "Tuesday 26/08/08" the true title for this post is London Preppy's Grey Weekend.
And in this weekend LP is in a massive grey whirlpool and in the middle of this whirlpool at the base of the funnel developing there is Australia. And LP is spinning round and round and feeling the tug of the whirlpool and has forgotten he can swim, and swim quite well. He may even like it. But for now that's forgotten, in a cute but sometimes misunderstood accent.

Oldyeller said...

Do we know if the potential housemate is gay (not that it matters)?

Were you able to see Mitcham's amazing gold medal winning dive over the weekend?

Anonymous said...

Matey - some advice - the only place to live in Sydney is the Lower North Shore (away from the gay ghetto!) - think Kirribilli, McMahons Point, Cremorne Point or Waverton - Lovely!

The Lower North Shore types are also HOT! (But unlike those from the eastern suburbs not consciously so) ...

Ah-Bong said...

outside of london and not allowed to have a name that is not matt ben or rob? wow. that's new. i thought all the major cities are pretty much flooded with foreigners too?

CATC said...

I can well relate to that.
I am a northerner unfortunately but moving to liverpool recently I have the worst time trying to understand people. If they have a strong scouse accent it sounds like a different language. For the most part they're generally good natured though.

Been a reader for a while and it's good to see you living life and having fun which I hope will eventually be the same for me after these difficult early stages (which you can read about in my blog).

Just thought I'd comment and say how much I love your blog.
Keep up the good work.

W said...

the british railway system is 2nd to none.... that was basically the same time it took me to get back from Cannes this weekend (almost as glamourous as manchester pride)

London Preppy said...

tim: Can we not have a countdown? I'm trying not to think about it at the moment

gav: Nah, I'd rather reel him in and then unleash everything upon him

oldy: Yes, I know whether he's gay or straight.

No I missed that. Great, now he's never gonna accept my friend request

ah-bong: Trust me I lived up north for 5 years and I was the only non-English person in most social groups. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I like my friends to be English

w: Oh the glamour

Paul said...

Hey LP

Just out of interest, how heavy are you?

Will:)

Paul said...

Hey LP

Just out of interest, how heavy are you?

Will:)

London Preppy said...

paul: 68kg

AlwaysReadySF said...

and look at the silver lining: when you move to Sydney you might get to "work" for similar events...

Cockbag LLC said...

Let me know how easy it will be to get all the necessary paperwork to work in Australia. I am seriously considering moving there after graduation. I saw an ad for a post-doc fellowship today in Sydney that is unfortunately about 4 years too soon for me.

Jon C said...

What's Scott's screen name?

Anonymous said...

LP, dont live on the North Shore. No one will ever visit you and you'll be surrounded by wealthy uptight families and crossing the bridge every time you want to do anything, and most likely go to work, will do your head in. Most English people live in Paddington or Bondi - Paddington because its a bit like parts of London, and Bondi because they can go for a swim at the beach in the morning before work each day, and you're 20 minutes from the city. I live in Paddington and absolutely love it. You're close enough to walk to the ghetto, but far enough removed from it that you're not seeing homos everywhere. Half way between the city and the ocean beaches, and close to the harbour beaches. Great shops and cafes and well serviced by public transport. And the whole suburb is mostly terrace houses, so you can probably get a place with a back garden perfect for summer BBQ's with your new Sydney friends...

Phoenix said...

There has got to be something you can do other than stand outside in the cold like a piece of cattle :S

What did people do before Facebook?!

I only started reading the blog recently, so don't know, how come the temp move to Sydney? (Maybe you should do a "Last time on LP" clip like on TV :P )

Anonymous said...

Gonna miss seeing ya out and about town

dickophile said...

somehow you don't seem like the type to have a roommate. the real you might get one but not london preppy. he's too tortured to feel safe enough to let someone into his personal space. so can you give us a hint as to what job you'd like to attempt while in sydney?

London Preppy said...

cockbag: I'm inclined to think that the paperwork will be different for British citizens vs. US ones

jon: His screen name where?

anon: Don't worry, I won't

anon: Will miss you too

dick: Well, I'm not going to move over there without knowing anyone AND live on my own like a hermit

Jon C said...

for his work

London Preppy said...

jon: What job do you think that Scott does that requires a screen name?

Ben said...

OK, you foreigners come to our country and then you come up north and bash us for being called Ben

*tsk*

When do you go to Oz?! :-P

(btw, I actually went south for the weekend, to have a) a valid excuse not to go to Pride and b) have such a laugh with people who don't take themselves *too* seriously!

Anyway.... :)

Jon C said...

I'm guessing he would have a screen name for the "website painted on [your] chests"

Discotheque GQ said...

So I just read an article about how the ratio of women to men has increased in Australia in the past couple of years to the point that there's a "Man Drought." Glad to know you're helping alleviate that problem ;)