Dear John

I read your site. Umm, are those pot plants in the header?

Damn

Now that Cutting it have killed off Sarah Parrish, there's nothing to watch on television anymore.

Maybe I'll start reading ...

Untethered

Kirsten's gone. Packed up and flown out and down under and gone. It's hard to believe it, admit it, imagine it or accept it. Both the physical absence and the idea of it.

Our friendship was forged fast and forged strong. That first night out, drinking champagne at Home House, drafted to play the boyfriend to ward off some City midget creep from hitting on her. Subsequent days of work and nights of rowdy drinking at the Montrose. A true compadre with enough patience to share work and social time. A profound mutual respect with a mix of awe on my part.

Then years, a dance in the forests of Fontainebleau, a boyfriend (hers) found on the other side of the world, Organic London closing, an engagement (the recurring theme of champagne), a 48-hour sprint to New Mexico for a wedding, a baby. Her life evolving and revolving. My life stagnating and changing. Towards the end I wasn't sure there was room in her life for the randomness and dissimilarity that a single gay friend can bring.

Yet, I knew we were made life friends. If nothing more than by a memory of a golden time in London, or the fact that she never not got the cultural reference or inside joke.

Gone. A little family I adored. A best friend who never judged a repetitively tiresome two-year infatuation. Who shared a love of fine things. Who could be a voice of reason. Sharp enough to get the Economist. Smart enough to figure people out. Lovely enough to have lovely people adore here. Gone to Perth, with its faraway farawayness. I now feel positively untethered here in London. A bedrock has shifted and migrated, and unsettled feelings follow.

I miss my blond, beautiful friend. You always deserved a life of sunshine, but I'm glad you stayed for a short time of cold, dark, grey and me.

Tim points out ...

... that the word 'facetious' has all of the vowels in correct alphabetical order, which I never realised before.

I won't tell you what I was being facetious about, as that would be naughty. And I'm never naughty :)

Turner prize shortlist announced

Interesting list, although I'm not generally a fan of sculpture, and almost never a fan of 'glitter and coloured tape'

Useful fact of the day

The British use the word 'tetchy' instead of 'touchy'.

Now you know.

Back like a rash

I could have sworn I've posted since March, but maybe not. Ok, so here's the lowdown:

Moved.
To a tiny pied a terre in a swanky new development in Paddington Basin. Still getting used to not living in South Kensington, but oh my I'm loving having Sky satellite television, a dishwasher and air conditioning (especially as they're predicting a scorching summer.)

Devastated.
My best mate Kirsten's packed up her family and are immigrating to Perth, Australia on Sunday. Our big 'sex and the city' night out was pre-empted by her husband's clashing plans and we had to make due with a takeaway and a bottle (or three) of wine 'round hers. It's beyond sad. They're like family - we spend holidays together. Now, I'm devastated I won't get to see her children grow up, won't have K to drag to nice bars and restaurants, won't have someone in London I always knew I could call if I needed someone. I'm going to miss her tremendously.

Prepared.
Robert's coming to London on Sunday. I'm preparing my liver for the onslaught now. It's bank holiday weekend here and the clubs are open all hours and I've no doubt we'll be embarrassing ourselves somewhere.

Intrigued.
The Economist has launched a lifestyle magazine, Intelligent Life. Anyone read it yet?

Sad.
Ismail Merchant died yesterday.

Annoyed.
Big Brother 6 starts. But happily I have Sky and hope to avoid it.