Another weekend.

Happ! Another night's fun begins!

Five Star's most overlooked moment, that.

Oh well, here I am again. Listening to Annie, Norway's feeyussest, giving it some 'Chewing Gum'

I have a hangover from the depths. But I am coping. I am NOT going to Patricia. Though there is a pull to.

It would appear the 'hello boys, do you wanna rock?' light has gone on above my head again. A similar thing happened in 2003 just after the Francis extravaganza. It was tongue-tastic. I say this because I went out on Friday with Roger, with rather surprising and kissoramic results. Roger is mylovely English Swedish friend who is going back to England for good next week (Roger, I HATE U!).

Anyway, it was midsummer. It is like, the most important date in the Swedish festive summer calendar. Unsurprisingly. Rog and I went for a picnic but then it got very rainy, so we sheltered under a bush and wished we had known how to make a bivouac. (cannae make one, but I can spell it, eh no?).

SO we had all this food and nowhere to go. Except we did, because we went to Roger's friends Paul and Ali. We had a totally amazingly super afternoon and got incredibly tipsy on Swedish schnapps and sang 'Over the Rainbow' in harmony on the balcony, attracting applause from the bemused Swedes in the street below. FACTORAMA! Paul and Ali's flat looks over where we made the video last week, and they remembered me!

So then Roger and I went to Connections, after some guarana (which rocks), and I got propositioned by loads of boys and bought drinks and all sorts of improper shenanigans like that.

And then I ended up snogging a boy whose name escapes me but who had a partner (prompting me to exit stage left) and who lived in Malmo. It was fun. Roger kept calling me a tart. Three snogs in 6 months would hardly qualify me, would it?

Home, absolutely pisht, then yesterday, got up, went to watch Sweden vs Germany with new Canadian tunnelbana friend Laura and her lovely friend Ulrika. Then off for tea in Torget (lovely bar) with Joe and Phil, lovely West London pals. Was SO NICE to see a familiar face!

Then off to Lino after a severe bout of killer wind. Danced to Shirley's "Mr. Memory". Lovely Nils was there. We had fun. I dropped his G&T. Brrrr.

Got bus home. Poor German man in the seat in front wearing a black kilt and sporting a German flag was getting hassled by drunk Swedish girl - I think she said 'the door's that way' to him in German. He got off at the same stop as me too.

Today, after tumultuous dreams, woke up, felt like poo, drank tea, touched myself inappropriately, did a translation and watched a really super YouTube video called 'Shoes' by a transvestite called Kelly. It is feeyuss.

Am so hungover. Brrr. Tomorrow is another day. Hurrah.

London on Weds!!!

This be Patricia, home of the foam!

The morning after the night before...

Well there you go. If you want it, you get it!

So off did I toddle to Patricia last night. The 'foam party' hadn't yet begun when I got there, though the plastic sheeting was everywhere. Patricia is on 4 levels, each of which has bars and dancefloors. It is a FEEYUSS venue. So the foam was in the basement, and I went out to the top deck (since, after all, it is a ship!). I bumped into various people from the choir, and some from the Pub Quiz team. It was fun. I had some G&T courage prior to leaving Nacka as well. So I was a bit tanked.

I went into the schlager disco room to dance to Ruslana 'Wild Dances', and suddenly I was dancing back to back with a boy who seemed to be very much enjoying my dancing. 'Ey oop' thought I. We kept on dancing. It was fun. Handclapping the 'hey's in Ruslana is always fun.

So then the next record came on and he moved away and motioned to me to come and keep dancing with him. Dancing. Eye contact. Dancing. Alcohol. And then KA-DING! Suddenly our tongues were very much better acquainted. It's weird how it happens, hey? You can feel it is coming for a few seconds then, hello, AK-SHUN.

I have not, as I intimated, had a snog in months. I was v happy. Snogging RULES.

The boy in question, who shall remain nameless, was v insistent on us getting a taxi back to his flat for some 'acquainting' of a more intimate kind (innit?) but Finda stood firm, and said 'Nope, not my thing. But we can snog some more here if you want'. So we did, and we chatted and he seems like a good sort.

It turned out we live in the same part of town. So we got the same bus home (Skinflint pride!) and snogged all the way. Wrongness! But rightness at the same time. We were snogging all over the place. In the bus station. Outside the club. Did you get the idea about us snogging yet? I HEART SNOGGING.

I woke up today thinking 'Bloody hell, take a little step, watch the waves!'. I am not ready quite yet for a new thang. Or maybe just not with him. I don't know.

In any case, he has my number, and has not used it. Ditto for me. So we might just be popping this into the 'ace snogs of 2006' category. It has been rather empty!

Good points of boy in question: could NOT believe I was single, and that I wasn't having 65 shags a week. Thought I was hot. Well, that goes without saying, non? Was a good snog. Knew all the words to Carola's various choons.

Less good points: did not have one good word to say about Linda Bengtzing. (VADFAN???)

KRRRRR.

OK this ranks as one of my shallowest ever posts. I am aware of this! I must be feeling a tad tabloid. Now, is 7 p.m. 'hair of the dog G&T time'?

This is Christer Lindarw, Sweden's most famous transvestite! GAY PRIDE!

Ulla! And the wee ones! (including her wee ex!)

Jag vill leva la Dolce Vita!

Hey! Right, after a rather stern talking-to about the utterly dangerous pitfalls of living online from Missy Pauline yesterday, I resolved to do something about my online addiction (it's true!) and meet some real people, and real boys in the flesh, in the hope of actually finding someone that is right for me. I didn't say Mr. Right, I don't really believe there is just the one.

So today I decided to dare a little bit and go along to a VIDEO SHOOT! The Swedish group 'After Dark' is a transvestite duo, and one of them, Christer Lindarw, has recorded the Stockholm Pride song 2006. It is a reworking of 'Go West' but with the words 'go west' replaced by 'kom ut!' (yes, it's 'come out'). It turns out that some people from the Stockholms Gaykor, of which I am a sort of honorary member, had already sung the backing vocals on the track, and today, the instructions were to go along to Katarina Bangatan at 1245 dressed all in white.

Thanks to the wondrous shop that is Kappahl, I got some nice white culottes on Friday, and a new white tshirt.

This morning, after a MORNING SWIM IN THE LAKE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, and after a lovely family breakfast with Ulla and Albert (and after Tuff the dog had pooed all over the rug, poor thing), I decided to bite the bullet and go along. I was cacking it, thinking 'oh, you know, I'm not really in the choir, and they might be a bit pissed off that I am butting in'. But mindtalk to back of mind, off I went, with a lovely white belt made for Ulla by her friend Jan who is a kinky leather designer (did anyone say 'Sling pride!'? I think they did!).

So on the way out of the underground station at Skanstull, a lady asked me which exit was closest to Katarina Bangatan. I didn't know and said so, and she turned out to be Canadian, a lovely lady called Laura. We swapped numbers after finding Katarina Bangatan. She is smarting from a breakup so I figured we'd have some stuff to talk about :o)

Lalala. Arrived at place, was immediately ushered 'into shot' with the other Swedish pooves. It was amazing, working that camera! I've never done that before! We worked it a few times, then inside for 'fika' (coffee break) and then across the road to sing again ('Tillsamans!') with Christer eating cream cakes on a table.

Then a break. So off we popped to Medborgarplatsen and I sat with some lovely lovely Swedish men and drank beer and we talked about all sorts of stuff. It was SO NICE TO JUST GET OUT AND DO SOME STUFF!!! I was v happy.

They then said 'Let's go to Långholmen!'. Långholmen is a gay nudist beachy type thing that is apparently cruiseground-tastic a la George Michael as well. So off we went. It was great. Sitting with my feet in the sea, drinking fizzy water and singing 'Kom ut!' and harmonies. Such fun. And I got a tan!

Then we decided to head back to a park at Zinkensdamm where the last part of the video was being filmed. We marched up and down a hill waving our hands about, and cheering. I met a lovely French-English lady and made her laugh by saying inappropriate things in French. YAY!

I was just SO SICK of feeling crappy. This last week has been an uphill struggle, not helped by only the slightest trickle of work. I've been really down on myself, and convinced I am destined to be alone forever. And that kind of thinking never made a boy feel better!

So now I have swapped numbers with half the choir, who tell me Stockholm is a really hard city to crack, and that I have done really well so far. No wonder I have been seeking refuge online. But less so in the future.

Tonight on Patricia the disco boat, there is a 'foam party' (skumfest! på svenska!) and I am going to go to it, even though I am so very unsure as to what a foam party is and what one does there (apparently feel people up in a corner). After today, I'm realising that going just a wee bit out of my comfort zone and feeling a tad uncomfortable reaps tremendous rewards. And if I want to meet someone, they're hardly going to come knocking on my computer.

So off I go. I will update you all with news of what happened.

Innit? x

Doctor doctor!

Can't you see I'm burning burning?

I had a *scare* yesterday. I have had a sort of hard growth thing behind my nipple, for quite a long time. It would come and go, and sometimes bother me. In the last month, I began noticing it a bit more. I was a bit concerned.

Then on Tuesday night, I had a very vivid dream with Kylie in it (which I would otherwise love) but where she DIED of breast cancer! Which was just so very not good.

I woke with the resolve to go and see a doctor. I did. It was a tad hectic, but apparently it is my lymph glands enlarged due to infection. I don't know what infection, but the doctor was quite reassuring about it.

So it looks like I'm not going to die in the near future. Phew.

Scary, though!

Oh. My. Word.

What an exhausting weekend. I haven't been on for a while, what with This and her friend That. It is totally TROPICAL here in Stockers.

I went to Edinburgh, hereafter for brevity referred to as Embra, for the weekend. Richard Mellanby (with a Swedish surname!) was getting married, so I went. It was fun. I got rather drunk, danced the Dashing White Sergeant, saw lots of people I hadn't seen in an aeon, and sang 'Can You Hear Me Calling?', the best Number 1 that never was. To near-unanimous applause!

Getting to Embra was hecticity in itself - a bus from Stockers to Skavsta airport (only 90 minutes away! A stonesthrow!), then a nighttime trip in a bus from Prestwick, then a £20 taxiride to collect the keys to where I was staying. Phew.

The wedding happened in Roslin Chapel (sp?) which is apparently dead famous because of the Da Vinci Code. Which I have neither read nor seen. It was nice.

Then the reception in the Assembly Rooms. Oh and Jon was late, causing me to totally brassneck the entire bus on the way to Penicuik so they would wait 5 more minutes. "And if anyone has a problem, could they raise their hand? No? OK!"

Sunday was more hecticity. My sister and my cousin came with me to Harvey Nichols for lunch. Very sunny and very very chatty. Phew. Then drinks with other Uni friends, then getting v v drunk and eversoslightly shouty with the nursery Thingboxer. I ask you.

Then yesterday, hangover from the depths of the abyss, homemade humus and sushi, bus to Prestwick, much much much chattage with Pauline (*heart*) and then back on the plane. After a hair of the dog pint of Stella.

Today, back to Kaffebar with Ulla, recounting of events, in desertlike heat!

And now I am going out for a pint in a gay bar and I am going to learn some Swedish.

Lalala.

This is a dancefloor docu-soap!

Back once again for the renegade master...

I am listening to Alcazar as I type. I *heart* Alcazar. Their song 'Alcastar' is a moment of sheer pop wisdom and how it did not win in 2005 at Melodifestival is a travesty of unparallelled proportion. (Apart from Shirley losing, obv).

Mad mad few days. Albert, Ulla's eldest son, graduated from "hogskolan" this week, which is like a further education college from what I can gather. So there was a big party on Thursday after his graduation ceremony, photos of which I will post in a bit. It was Swedo-tastic, and I met some nice people. I then passed out very early on due to overconsumption of 7% pear cider.

I was also cacking it about speaking Swedish. My passive Swedish is much better than it was, but me actually MAKING THOSE SOUNDS MYSELF?? Are you quite mad?

Ulla's parents came up from Lund. Which was a docu-soap in itself. Poor Ulla. She really did all she could to make it nice for them, and of course, it wasn't enough. Sometimes I am glad I have no parents :o) Then she had to meet her ex-husband's mother. Another 'good look' moment. She's a trooper is our Ulla.

So I went into town and bought some stuff yesterday, which was a bit mad since I am more skint than a ho with a chastity belt. But I was feeling a bit 'blah' and felt retail was the way forward.

I got the 2nd Bridget Jones book, and went to Ahlens record store where my eye was caught by a double CD of Anni-Frid Lyngstad's early Swedish hits (Frida from Abba to those not in the know). I was in the queue and then it looked like I was jumping in, so I let the other person go in front, which ended up in a mad British-esque 'No, no! After YOU!' moment. Then he said 'Oh what did you buy?' Me: 'Frida'. Him: 'Oh she has a new CD coming out! Maybe they have it! Shall we ask?' Me: 'Erm. OK!'

So we went and asked. Clocking a man buying a Frida CD is pretty much like clocking a man buying 'Tom of Finland: An Illustrated Guide'. So though they had no new Frida :o( he said 'If you are going out tonight, go to Connections!'. Ding-a-dong. He then bought his stuff while still managing to banter with me, then came out of Ahlens and offered me some sweets. Throwing the lessons proffered by my mother out of the window, I accepted. Asking 'Are these laced with ecstasy? I do hope so!'

He was called Roger, was 38, and had organized soirees for Shirley Clamp. (DING!)

So off I traipsed home, quite excited actually. I know getting hit on by a random in a record shop is very humdrum, but I am seldom hit on, so I was happy.

Ulla was like 'Well he must have had some kind of effect on you, your speech rate has gone through the roof!' So I had some food then went off to Connections.

Upon arrival, I clocked Roger, but he had shaved off his beard and looked totally different. He was like 'Where are your friends?'. Brrr. I said 'I live with a Swedish family. I did ask if they wanted to come, but they were slightly reticent'. He was putting his coat in, and said he'd come and find me.

Which he then did, as I danced around on the dancefloor. I said 'Hej!' and kept on dancing. Maybe I have no idea about this sort of thing. He disappeared, not to be seen again! I did look around, but nope. He had gone. Either I look better in the daytime, or he got the wrong end of the stick and thought I wasn't interested. Which is frustrating because it's not strictly true. I have not had a hint of a snog since March... Swedish boylove could have filled a wee hole.

So there you go. I stayed til 3, got stotting drunk and came home on the bus. I had a fag out the window upon my return (though I obviously don't smoke!) and passed out in my clothes. Such class! So maybe i will now go and brush my teeth.

Boys. I just don't get them sometimes. But who does?