A Queen's guide to a stress free run up to christmas..........

         This weekend we arrive at the time of year I get my tight bubble butt into gear. For everyone else this weekend brings Halloween and then Guy Fawkes night but for me it is the start of the Christmas count down. The one thing I love more than a six pack and hard nips on a well oiled hunk is organising Christmas. Buying the presents, writing the cards, picking a theme for the house and even wrapping all the presents gets this old Queen so hyper you can plug me in and I can generate electricity for the whole of Europe.

         This year is going to be a little bit different for me as we are not on the main land we will not be doing the same things. Gone is the coal fire and finding the 9 foot Christmas tree (the cottage is not much taller than a hobbits home). Gone is the large party with buckets and buckets of Green Apple Martini's. Oh I have seen so many people with important jobs and titles leave our home, well crawl out really after a few of them (look them up in Nigella Lawson's cook book). So this year I will have to get my juices running finding other things to do.

         Now I hope you do not think that a serious shopping Queen like myself waits until after October to start shopping for Christmas. I really started buying in August as when you have a 14 year old they are not happy with just a couple of presents, and I learnt a very long time ago that if you finish all the buying by the end of November it leaves your Husband with a lot more money in the account to buy you some beautiful gifts for his hard suffering wife. So here is the Queen's guide to a stress free Christmas......................

1: If you see it Buy it

         Pick up a couple of items each week and remember to find a fab hiding place to stash them. Don't forget to remember where you stash them. One year I totally forgot I had given a friend loads of presents to keep from prying little eyes. She brought them around on Christmas Eve, I felt like a complete tit and one young son got a magical and expensive Christmas morning.

2: Keep to one theme

         Each year I have a theme. Same colour decorations, same wrapping paper right down to the Christmas cards. OK for the last 7 years I have had a thing about blue and silver but you can never go wrong with a classic.

3: Do not buy cheap wrapping paper or cards

         Now I am not being a snob but please keep away from that common cheap wrapping paper. I have this problem with my Mother, each year when we lived in Scotland she would send our presents wrapped in them and I always had to re wrap them because of all the rips. OK not the whole truth, I was not going to place that common paper under my tree so I do always re wrap any presents that arrive before the day in the themed paper.

4: Cards, Cards, Cards

         Don't leave it to the last second to write the cards. If possible get someone else to do the job, well I am a Queen and my wrists are not that strong. Do Not get stressed if you receive a card from someone you have not sent. It is a waste of time and effort, put them on your list for New Year cards. Have the cards written by the 1st  December.
5: Trees and decorations

         There is only two ways to go with trees and decorations. Classy or trashy, of course I always go classy but plenty of people including every member of my close family go trashy. I only have the tree with a couple of select  items dotted about. Tinsel is a No No, common as muck and try to get a real Tree. A small real one is better than a big thick false one (sorry lost the plot there, forgot we were talking about trees). If you want to spend money buy a real wreath for your front door, beautiful and so welcoming putting a smile on any one's face before they enter your home.
6: Food
         Don't go crazy with loads of food as it only goes to waste. Be smart and go to someone else's home for Christmas day lunch. I have for the last 5 years, well I am tired by the time the big day has arrived and I can only just manage to lift the glass of sloe gin and I am no good stuffing anything by then. Plus the shops are only closed now for one day so not long to wait.
7: Sloe Gin
         Make sure you have a large supply of Sloe Gin, once the kids are off school it is best to be plastered until they return to school in January. Plus you never know when a certain Queen will be cumming to town.

         There is a few details I have missed but you get the idea, so good luck and most of all have fun. Remember the fun is in the giving but remember what presents you get so if it is really bad you can return the favour the next year.

The Campness of Saturdays

         Saturday's are fast becoming my favourite day of the week. I know you are thinking that everyday must be fun with a bottle of Sloe Gin in one  hand and nothing to do but play bingo on Facebook or potter around the garden pretending to be Alan Tittymarsh. Every Saturday is turning into the most camp and Fabulous day of the week.

         I have not been going out that much really for the last couple of months during the week. Finding it hard and lonely walking around the handful of shops this Rock has to offer, so I have started to wait until Saturday to go out with my sexy husband or to meet up with Yvonne. Everything is different when you are not alone. When seeing a fab sexy hunk walking towards you it is Ok to start to breath heavily and turn around and scream " Check the ass on that" or go into the perfume department and test some smellies and giggle because you walk out smelling like footballer's wives. These things cannot be done alone and I thank the big Lesbian God in the sky for Yvonne.

         We meet in Christies for a bit of lunch, the only reason is the good looking men. The food is normal and everything is over priced but there is a couple of good looking young men to get you all moist for the shopping to come. Then it's off mincing around the shops looking for anything or buying that one item we cannot live without. The great thing about Yvonne is she is one of those woman that is very equal in her shopping when out with a Queen. I do not mind wondering around ladies boutiques and looking at dresses, tops, shoes and handbags. Oh I love the handbags and when I am holding a £700 bag in my hand I get so excited a bit of wee comes out. Yvonne is then happy to potter through the menswear departments watching as I finger my way through the latest collections. After a couple of hours it is then time to make our way home to get ready for an evening of camp television.

The Fab Russell Grant

         Going out into town on a Saturday night is now boring having done it most of my youth so to have a scream in front of the box with a glass of Sloe Gin in my hand and the bottle next to me is pure heaven.

Strictly come Dancing gets my juices flowing and with the wonderful camp Russell Grant dancing his way into Strictly history is pure gold. I don't really give a flying fig about Harry and his wonderful pecks or Robbie with his flowing locks and whiter than white smile, all I wait for is the middle aged small fat man with the biggest heart and the talent to even make Craig smile.

The outrageous Johnny

Saturday night television has always had a Queen on it that brightens up our lives, now with Russell dancing his camp way into the nation's heart and then on the other channel Johnny singing his heart out on the 'X Factor'. This Queen is nothing to look at but kindness and love flows from him in bucket loads and his voice is outrageous ( in a fab way). When I look at him he reminds me of the great late Larry Grayson that had the nation in fit's on 'The Generation Game' in the long and distant past of my childhood when Gay men were still regarded as the scum of the world.

         My husband, Yvonne and myself sit laughing and screaming at the television all night and I love every minute of it. So put some campness into your lives and I promise you that before long a big smile will be on your faces. Plus if you can find a woman that in a previous life was a Gay man to go shopping with even better.

Life can be a drip sometimes...........

          You may have been wondering what has happened to old Disnarc as it has been a couple of weeks since my last blog. I am hoping that you were thinking I was lying in the sun with a glass of Sloe gin in one hand and being oiled up by a half naked hunk feeding me grapes with his mouth. Sorry to tell you that is not the case far from it but it does not stop us all from dreaming.
          I have really been getting used to the cottage and treading water. Hanging pictures and pushing the home sickness from my mind. It has not been easy and the last straw came on our anniversary when poor Greg had been in bed for 2 days with tonsillitis and I basically flipped. In my world it's a Queenie strop and I had  enough. Being stuck in the cottage and not seeing anyone but the dying lying in bed and wanting nurse Disnarc to attend to his every whim my patience had run dry like the empty bottle of sloe gin in the bin. Back in Truro we would have had a few people mincing in to see Greg and to make sure I was not going slowly mad or poisoning him with my cooking, but here not one person phoned or popped in. Screaming at the top of my voice I wanted off this bloody island. Hated the cottage, hated Guernsey and hated my new life. Greg had to just listen to me going on like a common slapper from The Jeremy Kyle show. Screaming going up the stairs that I was going home and did not care even if I had to live with the coffin dodgers, because least I would have company. The dog watched as I stomped up the stairs and must have been thinking that silly bitch is off on one again.
          The next morning the home sickness was gone, all I had to do was to let it all out. Releasing all the anger and frustration that had built up inside since arriving on the rock. From that moment on it has been like the fog has cleared and I can see things very differently. The cottage has grown on me since I started putting all the pictures up on the walls and moving furniture around.

          There are still things wrong with this place, like the mess the plumbers left. The toilet in the main bathroom does not flush properly which means no one can go for a number 2 in it or the ceiling in the lounge has not been painted since the shower leaked twice from the main bathroom ( again the plumbers). The best one is that the water is connected to the staff accommodation next door which means that when anyone flushes their toilet or takes a shower our water pressure goes. Now this is the most annoying part as you all know that when I get ready to go out or shower in the morning and my hair is all lathered up with products it's a bugger when only a dribble of water comes out. Sometimes I think it would be easier to get a servant to pee over me as they would have more pressure than what comes out of the shower. Saying all that I am living with it and knowing that one day it will all be fixed. I really do live in cuckoo land if I think that any of that will be fixed.
          The only area that is a total no go is the garden. I just do not have a clue were to start, knowing that the garden has some major issues. Like the gate for an example is on the wrong way so when you enter you do not walk onto the path. This becomes a major issue when it rains, the water pours in and because for some stupid reason the three drains have been filled up with soil and rubbish the water cannot drain away. So when opening the gate when it's pissing it down you walk straight into our swimming pool. I had spent so long making our old garden looking wonderful and fit for a Queen I know how much hard work is needed to get this garden looking just as good. This is where I need that fit young gardener in tight shorts bending over pulling out my weeds.

          We have not made any new friends to date but I'm quite happy pottering around the cottage. It would be nice if Greg had two days off like he used to in Cornwall but at the moment I have to settle with just one. Life is good and I am very contented, so I will carry on dreaming about the sexy gardener trimming my bush.

21 Years of happiness

          21 years ago I went out with my friends to a night club in Glasgow called Bennets. Three weeks earlier I had dumped my latest boyfriend as he was not ticking off many items on my list (read previous blogs). After jumping from one relationship to the next I was determined to play the field and have a string of one night stands. Well, everyone in life should experience being a slut at some point. The evening was going  alright with about 8 to 10 men eyeing me up and I could have had my pick of any of them but none of them really got my juices running. I decided to go down to the other end of the night club to have a troll and see who was about. In the early 90's the fashion for men was the boring white tee shirt and blue jeans and black shoes which I found not that interesting and they all looked the same.  To my surprise in the corner of the room I saw a young man wearing black trousers, a white shirt which a red motif on it and red shirt braces. This guy was stunning and my heart was pounding like crazy. He was tall with broad shoulders, thinning on top and a beautiful face and his lips I just wanted to kiss them.
I decided to keep my cool and just hang around to see if I could attract his attention. I moved into the corner and stood waiting and watching. Within a couple of songs he was standing behind me, and my heart was racing.
"Can I buy you another drink?" The young man asked.
"No sorry you can't buy me another drink" was my reply.
"Oh OK " said the hunk turning away and looking all rejected.
I grabbed his arm and whispered into his ear. "You can't buy me another drink as this is tap water and it's free."
          Within a couple of minutes we were dancing and then standing in the corner snogging. I was in Heaven as his lips and hands did things to my body that no other man had ever done and trust me I had my fair share of men. We arranged to meet the next day on a date and we have never looked back since.
          Greg is my rock and the only person in this world I want to be with all the time. He is my best friend, my lover and a wonderful father to our son. He ticked every box on my list and more and the last 21 years has passed so fast but he has never changed and when I look at him I still see that sexy young man.
          Thank you Greg for everything and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You are my world and my life would have been very boring with you not in it. I am looking forward to the next 21 years as we move from middle age into old age knowing that in my life there is a man who loves me for who I am and each day makes me laugh and is just there supporting me all the way.

Off to the Auction we mince...

          Last week was not a really good week for me with the black dog in full force so the prospect of spending the day with a woman I had never meet was not inspiring me to smile but with a bit of apprehension I said yes. The lady I was going to meet the next day was Yvonne's Mother who was over on holiday for a week and I had never meet and not really heard much about. We had arranged to meet the next morning but just as I was about to leave in the pouring rain Yvonne phoned to arrange for us to meet in the afternoon. ( Note to readers I did try and tell her the night before that it was going to pour down in the morning and clear up by lunchtime but as normal she did not listen to silly old Disnarc)
          Luckily the rain stopped so I minced my arse down the road to meet Rhona. I had only been in the coffee shop for about a minute when coming through the door I noticed a lady that could only have been my date for the day. Within a second of meeting Rhona I knew this lovely lady was a game old girl that I would become good friends with. We chatted for a few minutes and laughed about us being on a blind date when Rhona mentioned that an auction had just started and would I like to go.
Well, is the Pope a Catholic?

 After what felt like the blind leading the blind we found the auction and went in, at this point I had not been more moist than I had ever been on a blind date. I registered but Rhona said she was a demon in the auctions and she could not be tempted as how the hell would she get the items back to the main land. We stood at the back and within seconds our mouths were down by our feet as lot after lot went for pennies. No one wanted beautiful dark furniture all they seemed to want was pine. At that point I realised that we had been taken over by the common people with no taste. The auctioneer could not give the traditional items away. To give an example a mahogany dinning table and six chairs he could not sell for even £20. Desks, bookcases, wardrobes all not selling because the common people wanted the pine and modern.
         After a few more lots Rhona went on walkabout looking at some items which she had spotted in the morning. Now what had caught her eye was a Chinese tea caddy and a couple of figurines. The figurines were of no importance but the tea caddy is something very interesting. The next moment my date was up at the deck registering for a paddle and a couple of lots later her paddle was waving and buying the lot for only £22 and with only 10% commission bring the total to £24.20 and no VAT which is 20% on the main land. I did not have much luck as the items I really liked went for a few hundred pounds but then I had not had chance to really have a look.
          Rhona and I stayed until the end and really enjoyed the whole experience and I started to think about all the lovely chairs that did not sell. I have something up my sleeve but you will need to wait and see. The next auction is in two weeks time so watch this space......

         It was very eerie feeling meeting Rhona as the more we spoke the more it came clear we liked the same things and had the same taste and that is very rare to find a straight person who has the same great taste like a Gay man. It all became very clear when finding out that we both share the same Birthday 5th April. I am so pleased that instead of sitting at home moping around I went out and had a Fab time with a Fab lady who I look forward to having more Fab times with. On a sad note for the world I really do not think it's a good idea to have two mad old girls wondering around Guernsey up to no good.        

The only Gay in the village ?

         The main reason I left Cornwall in the mid 80's was that I needed and craved Gay people. My Gay readers will understand what I am talking about so I'm going to try and explain to my straight readers.

Imagine growing up as a straight person in a world that is completely Gay. On the television, in the papers, magazines and films Gay, Gay, Gay. Your taught in school Gay is right and being straight is bad and wrong ( I would just love straight people to experience that feeling just once so they know how every Gay person feels). In your own mind you know that no matter how hard you tried you are not Gay but still everyone around you pushes it down your throat. Very difficult to comprehend and to a young mind very hard to understand. Things have changed and moved on and Gay people are excepted 60% of the time. I still believe we are still second class citizens and will be until we get completely the same rights as the straight population but we are getting there slowly.
         Living in Truro for the last 7 years was wonderful as we had a Gay night club and then for the last 4 years a Gay bar open all week were you could walk in and be welcomed by friendly faces who are still there making sure it does not matter who you are, Gay, straight, transsexual or even lesbians everyone can be themselves and are never judged. Greg and I have always just dipped in and out when he had a night off or we could get a babysitter. The main thing was knowing that it was there and it did not matter what was going on in your world once walking through the door you always felt like you are at home.

         I enjoy straight company but there is always something lacking, please don't get me wrong I love my straight friends and family as they are the best pets any Gay man can have, but they do not totally understand. They may say they do but you can see into their eyes and it's just missing. Feeling like the only gay in the village on this island and wondering if I had to pack all my Gay life away and jump back into the closet Greg found out that once a month on the first Friday a Bar in St. Peter Port had a Gay night. I was moist just at the words and I did not care even if we walked in and there was only two lesbians and an Airedale inside.
           Last night could not come quick enough and after buying a new top last week my excitement was all over my face. After the usual preparations we made our way down to the bar and for the first time in my life the door man asked if we knew it was a Gay night. What a wonderful surprise to enter a bar again and to feel comfortable straight away. The bar filled very quickly with a good mix of people. Young, old, slim, fat, attractive and ugly but all in the this place for the same reason to be with their own kind. I think it will take a few months to get to know people but the guy's we talked to last night were fun and very friendly. Once people realise that we are not on holiday and are locals we will start making good friends like we have in Truro.

         OK it's only once a month but that is better than nothing and life on this island is looking up and on a second little note I think I have found an interest which I will write about it in my next blog. So life is getting back to normal for this camp old Queen living in Guernsey.

A Brief Encounter.

         At the tender age of 19 I moved to work in London and was very eager to see all the attractions that London had to offer. Loving all that Gay London was throwing at a young princess and I really enjoyed going to a pub near St. Martins in the field called Brief Encounter. From an early age all I really wanted was to settle down, a husband, child and a couple of dogs, so I was very fussy who I would date or flirt with as they had to tick of every box on my list and that list was long and very strange. Another thing that was really important was never to date someone who was better looking than myself. Wise words from my Mother "Never date anyone better looking than yourself as they spend more time than you in the mirror" wise words and it has worked most of the time. ( with the exception of my dear husband who is the most attractive man in the world).
         One day after work I screamed into Brief Encounter for a couple of Gins and to see who was about. Not knowing many people I always tried to get to know the barmen so at least there was someone to talk to. Sitting up at the bar chatting to the hunky barmen the bar became really busy. In the corner of my eye at the other end of the bar I noticed the most attractive man I have ever seen. He was about 6 foot tall, dark hair and come to bed eyes. A body that would only be found on the designer underwear boxes I so enjoy fingering in TK Maxx. I knew he was great to look at but totally out of even my league so I carried on drinking and chatting to the barmen.
         About ten minutes later the barman came up to me and gave me a drink, saying thank you he said it was not from him but the guy at the other end of the bar. Well, you could have knocked me over with a condom. One thing lead to another and by the end of the evening we were both in a taxi heading back to his apartment. Now I was still very new at all this and a bit shy when it came to good looking guys, so once we got back to his place I moved quickly into the bathroom to freshen up and jumped straight into bed.
         The hunk came into the bedroom after going to the bathroom and stood at the end of the bed. Now was the time for my own private floor show, off came the shoes, then the socks which as I remember he did with so much grace. If that was me I would have fallen ass over tit trying to take my socks off. Then the belt slipped from his waist and then he ripped open his shirt. Oh I was not wrong, he had more muscles than I have ever seen and with everything rippling and shining I felt I needed sunglasses. If a friend had been there I would have asked them to slap me across my face to wake me up. Then he unbuttoned his jeans very, very slowly, and my heart was racing faster and faster. All at once he dropped his jeans...
         The shock of what I saw was to much for me to handle, this perfect guy with more muscles than I had seen before was wearing Y-fronts. The same style and colour as my father, the only other thing that would have put me off more would have been my mother walking into the room and sitting on the end of the bed and asking if I wanted a cup of tea. Before he could say a word I was out of the bed and dressing quickly and saying over and over again that I was sorry but we could not do this and left as fast as my little feet would carry me.
         Never did see him again but always made sure that when it was possible if I did get a date, asking what kind of underwear was always at the top of my list. All my friends still laugh about it but a girl has to have standards and I'm sorry nothing turns me off more than Y-fronts.

Oh I shudder just looking at them.
Where is that sick bucket.

I do miss a good old fashioned fingering.....

         I do miss a good old fashioned fingering through the men's designer underwear in TK Maxx. To me that was always the highlight of my shopping in Truro. TK Maxx in Truro is like a Gay man's heaven, as you glide up the escalator to the first floor you enter a different world. The home wear department on one side and the men's wear on the other. I always started at the shirts, really just to check out who was in the store. I do honestly believe that if they announced " Would the straight men in men's wear please go to the checkout" not one person would move.
          Moving to the jeans and then skipping quickly to the underwear, all boxed with gorgeous models on the front making me wonder will this pair really make me look that hot. The main reason I finger so slowly is that I'm a big fan of D & G's trunks and being a normal size (in the waist) they are very rare. In the last 4 years I have only found 4 pairs my size. Plenty of fat bastard size, you know the ones XXXL size but never mine.

         As you start to get hot under the collar you can guarantee a guy would come over and start fingering through them as well. I have been chatted up more times over a pair of designer undies in that store than I have in any Gay bar, and when your feel a bit down I cannot think of a better way to be cheered up. Apart from TK's, Truro had a Fabulous shopping area with a mix of chain stores and independents to keep anyone happy for hours. I would wonder down to town about 3 to 4 times a week and on a Saturday either go around with my Mum or my next door neighbour. I knew where every bargain was and you could ask me where any item was and I could point you straight to the right place, better sometimes than the shop assistants.
         Having had a bad week feeling very homesick and knowing that the "Black Dog" was coming on fast I decided to mince my arse down to St. Peter Port and do a bit of shopping to try and shake it off. Oh I wish I had not bothered and just stayed in bed. Guernsey is meant to be full of wealthy people and by the amount of sports cars and large houses on this Island you would have thought you would have an amazing shopping area to explore. For shopping, this place is back in the ice age, you do have a couple chain stores but none I would want to go into.
         The only place that got me a little moist was a clothes shop called Land of Green Ginger, who stock a beautiful range of french dress shirts. If you like jewellery shops and women's clothes you will be fine but I'm camp enough and to become a tranny is going a little bit far even for me. I was back home in the cottage within an hour and a half feeling more homesick for my men's wear department in TK Maxx.
So I really do miss a good old fashioned fingering through the undies and cannot wait to go somewhere better to shop than the main street in St. Peter Port.

Good old Mrs Clump

          Now years ago I worked in a department store in Truro called Dingles. I can hear you racking your brains thinking what department was good old Disnarc camping about in.
Was it the men's department where with a warmed tape measure Disnarc would go where no one else would tread ?
 Sorry no, men's fashion has never really got my juices running.
Was it the china department where Disnarc found his love for Spode Blue and White?
 Sorry again the answer is no.
         If you walked into Dingles in 1986 you would have found old Disnarc mincing his little bubble butt off in.......The Ladies shoe department. Being assistant Manager for my sins and loved every minute of it. OK I was rubbish at the paper work but have always been able to sell sand to Arabs and woman do love a screamer telling them how fabulous they look in shoes. One funny episode happened that I would like to share with you dear reader.
         There was a woman who I had never meet but had heard about from my sales team and other staff in the store. Never meeting this woman as she always came in on a Wednesday and that was my day off. Every week she would come in and buy an outfit, make-up, bag and shoes but the next week something would come back. Granted not everything but always something and it would be the most silliest reason. Her best excuse was the item looked completely different outside or the dress must have been switched because when she got home it was to small and she could not fit into it. The store Manager at the time had no back bone and when seeing this woman walk into the store he would walk straight out the back door. Once a month I would walk into our back room and find a pair of shoes sitting on the managers deck with the words returned by Mrs Clump (not her real name but when describing what she looked like you will think I'm kind).

         Mrs Clump was a proper old fashioned Cornish farmer's wife. She Would always come into Truro once a week with her husband and go shopping. This woman was about 5'11" and about the same around, the same size as sumo wrestler but taller. Always with a hat, pearl necklace on and a floral print dress and pop socks that when she bent over, (which would even make Wayne Rooney wince) you could see that she had only shaved her legs to the top of the pop socks which makes me feel sick just remembering it and she wore smart comfy flat black shoes. Mrs Clump was one of those people you just did not won't to meet down a dark alley, for one reason you would not be able to pass the old battle axe.
         My Manager went on holiday so old Disnarc being the willing mug said that working 6 days was fine so everything would run smoothly, plus the boss was a bit of a tight fisted old bag and would not pay the part times overtime, so Disnarc was left running the show. The shop was very quiet on the Wednesday afternoon and starting to lose the will to live when all of a sudden the floor began to shake (we were on the first floor). Looking up coming towards me was a sumo, barging everyone out of the way heading towards our area. Just as all the blood drained from my face and fearing for my life this thing stopped dead and boomed "Where is the Manager?" This woman had a much deeper voice than mine and I'm sure a darker stubble.
"I'm sorry the Manager is off today can I help you I'm her deputy."
"These shoes I bought last week are too tight and demand a refund" boomed Mrs Clump.
Thinking quickly on my feet I asked if it would be possible if we could try something with the shoes as I could see she really did love them and it would be a shame if she had to have a refund without us trying something. Then explaining to her that in the back room there was a machine that would stretch her shoes and would be delighted to try her shoes on the machine for her. After huffing and puffing (really she was huffing and puffing because she had just climbed the stairs) she said yes and old Disnarc disappeared into the back room. 5 minutes later returning with the shoes I asked if I could put them on her feet so she could try the newly stretched shoes on.
"What a difference young man they feel lovely now" Mrs Clump squealed as she walked up and down the shop floor. The sight reminded me of the pink Elephants in Fantasia as she bounced up and down the department.
" You are very welcome Mrs Clump and we look forward to serving such a wonderful lady who has great taste in shoes again" and at that she marched out of the department and stopping at the stairs she turned back and waved with a big smile. This image still haunts me quite often and I'm only glad that she has never featured in my nightmares knowing that I would be shagging her and not chopping her head off.
         Now let me tell you what really happened when I left the floor and went into the back room.
When entering the back room with all the shoe boxes and desk I noticed in the corner our Hoover so placing her shoes on the deck I switch on the Hoover, knowing they would be able to hear it on the shop floor. Now what was Disnarc going to do for 5 minutes, the only thing I could think of was to lean out of the window and have a fag (for people who do not live in England that is a word for a cigarette and not a Gay man, if I had a Gay man it would take longer than 5 minutes trust me). Once finishing the fag I turned the Hoover off, picked up the shoes and minced on out.
         It was a gamble and really had nothing to lose as Mrs Clump had returned most of her shoes that she had bought from us and even if we had not reached our target that week I knew that if this worked I would have done something no other person in the building was able to do. Later hearing from other staff that she left the department store humming. Good old Mrs Clump we never had a problem with her in the department anymore. One down side my Manager made me work every Wednesday after that to make sure Mrs Clump was able to see her nice young man.

The madness of Queen Disnarc

This picture is used on Facebook when the black dog arrives.

          When starting this blog I wanted to just write for myself and my friends, giving me something to do on this island. Forgetting it's a world wide web and now have readers now from all over this Gay world so if I'm going to keep writing these blogs I need my readers to understand more about me. This blog is going to help me and hoping it will help people to understand more about certain illnesses. I have never written down on paper my experiences before knowing that it will hurt and may be upsetting for my friends and family who mostly brush my illness under the carpet. Everyone around me seems to forget most of the time. Mainly that has been my fault keeping it hidden majority of the time.
          I have suffered from mental illness for the last 16 years. You can call me manic depressive or even been called bi-polar or just plain mad which is my favourite. I cannot switch my brain off and fixate on the slightest thing, a good example is if you're walking and the thought of your parents passing away crosses your mind. A sad thought and then you brush it aside and carry on thinking of something completely different. I can't do that and within minutes it moves on and I'm in tears and my mood has changed. So I want to go back to 1995 when I had my first mental breakdown.
         Greg and I were doing great, together for 5 years and my career was rocketing as a concessions Manager for Royal Doulton and just be given their Scottish flagship concession of Jenner's in Edinburgh to run. We moved from Paisley to South Queensferry, a beautiful converted steadings just outside Edinburgh. We both had fantastic jobs and were both climbing our career ladders fast, at this moment in time I was earning more money than Greg. Life was Fab, working hard and playing hard we knew it was the right move at the right time. Always been a creature of habit, getting up at 6.30 and out the door by 7.40 to catch the bus. Same seat on the bus everyday, morning coffee always at 11am and lunch at 2. Never missed the 5.45 bus home. 5 days a week, work was on the up beating targets and moving the shop to where I wanted it to go. Then the strangest thing happened, started getting up later and when sitting on the bus I would start to dread people sitting next to me all because I thought that I smelt. Looking back that was impossible, showering and shaving every morning, having 3 suits, one to wear all week, one in the wardrobe just in case of an emergency and the other one in the dry cleaners. A clean shirt every morning with a different tie and as you have been told  before half a tonne of perfume like any decent Queen.
         Things became worse very quickly, if someone sat next to me on the bus I would get off at the next bus stop and wait for a quieter one to come along, even letting 5 buses go pass me all because each seat had someone on them. Getting into work later and then the same in the evenings before I knew it I was getting home at 8 or even 9. I started to forget big chunks of my day. Could not tell anyone what I had  been doing or where I had been and disappearing for long periods of time. A friend who was concerned followed me one day and said all that I did was to sit in a park on a bench not for 20 minutes but for 2 to 3 hours. Not remember much from August 1995 to the end of 1996 all I can recall is going to the Doctors and not saying anything but just crying and then being given the happy pills.
         From August 1995 things went down hill very fast. Royal Doulton drop me as fast as they could and poor Greg was left dealing on a daily basis with a person he did not recognise and having to struggle with losing over half the monthly income. Greg moved jobs so he could be near me and worked every hour God sent to keep our home going. During this time I could not leave the house and shunned any human contact. Nightmares where a common theme, I would either be having sex with anyone and everyone or cutting their heads off.  If you were lucky I would shag you and then cut your head off.   Greg did not get one decent nights sleep of over the next year with me thrashing around in the bed or sleep walking. Now the sleep walking was fun, as Greg would get up in the morning go into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and open the cupboard to get a mug and find pots and pans in that cupboard. What I was doing in my sleep was going into the kitchen and rearranging all the cupboards. Please don't ask me why as it is a mystery to me why I would even want to change the cupboards. I think the best one was finding the kettle in the freezer or my best dinner set in the washing machine.
        After about 6 months the Doctor decided that I should have a CPN take over my case and then twice a week Chris would visit and we would talk. Her main worry was my objection to leaving the house. Yes, I would go out but only with Greg and never alone. Chris decided the best course of action was to bring in another CPN who's name was Jerry. Jerry felt that the main problem was the bus and people so the second week he meet me and took me into Edinburgh on the bus, we had a cup of coffee and then the bus back to home. The next week I got the bus at my stop and Jerry got on the bus at the next stop. This went on for nearly two years with Jerry getting on the bus each time one stop further until I made it all the way into Edinburgh to meet him for coffee and home again all by myself. Chris would always see me once or twice a week and would go through de-stressing methods.
        I have been left with a high pitched buzzing sound in my head that is there 24 hours a day. Having tried to get rid of it but it just will not go. Calling it my stress valve it now helps me judge how I'm feeling. When my stress levels go up the buzzing will get louder and we then all know something is wrong and I have to calm down and figure out what is causing the buzzing to get louder. For that reason I'm not good in loud places as with the buzzing in my head, loud talking or music I cannot hear what anyone is saying (bit of a blessing with some people).
       My depression will come on at anytime calling it the black dog just like Sir Winston Churchill. Feeling it coming I try to stop it but it washes over you and nothing or no one can stop it. Since 1996 I have had 3 more breakdowns with the last in December last year resulting in us all knowing that how much going back to work would be great it is not possible. I have panic attacks and worry about anything and everything. Each night lying in bed remember every conversation that took place that day and worrying about what people think about me.
       For my family and friends it is hard and difficult and I would not be writing this now if it was not for them. Greg is my strength and my light and I thank God for him everyday knowing that not many people in this world would have stayed with someone with a mental problem. The other person who I owe a lot is my Father. He never judges but listens and if there is one positive thing that has happened through all this as I have a very close friend who is my Father as well.
      What will happen in the future, nobody knows but I do know that hoping and praying that the buzzing will go away one day, because if the buzzing gets louder and louder and there is no way of stopping it the outcome will be one of two things. They will either cart me away to a mental hospital or it will be time for me to go to a better place. I don't want sympathy as there are reasons why we are born the way we are but I wanted you all to understand me just a little better. My brain is on the go 24/7 and try each day I try to have a fun Gay time. Most days are good, some are not so good so sometimes out of the blue you may get a blog that is not full of campness and fun but black and serious.
       Hope you enjoy these blogs as knowing some small minded people think it's disgusting and wrong but if there is one thing Chris and Jerry did teach me was that those small minded bigoted people will think everything is disgusting and wrong apart from their small warped worlds and it's their problem and not mine.

Sun, sand and oiled hunks

          After moving into the cottage dear reader I needed to take a break, so off I minced with a friend for a couple of weeks in the sun. We went to stay with my friend's sister who lives just outside Marbella in Spain. Now I'm a fussy old Queen when it comes to packing so everything was rolled to an inch of its life. Sock's, belts, tee shirts all rolled and the list can go on and on.
          Arriving at Guernsey airport it was straight to the bar for a quick Gin (just for my nerves on the plane) and then onto the plane for the first leg of the journey. Another Gin, but this time it was warm and no ice. I can suffer these little things but I always have to keep my hands under my legs to stop me from slapping the trolley dollies. All I want is a bit of class and style, not much to ask but both of them had a face on them like they had been slapped around the face by 3 day old boxers ( well they could use the boxers to clean away some of that crap that was on their faces). The flight is not that long to Gatwick, so before my brain could think about all those muscled tanned bodies I was going to see, we were down and mincing through Gatwick to put our bags in for the next flight.

          Through security which really annoys me, I never get felt up, my friend did by a big butch lesbian and she really did touch her in place that have been moth balled years ago. A gorgeous guy just stood there and watched as I walked on through. I would love to be patted down or even stripped searched but he did not move. Collecting my bag we glided to the Seafood Bar. Now this is a way to start a holiday, the campness is off the scale with this one. A couple of glasses of wonderfully chilled white wine, one crayfish and one salmon salad and 6 oysters it was pure decadence. My luxury was going to be short lived as our flight to Malaga was with Sleazy airlines.
         Now don't get me wrong I really do like the colour orange, in small places used as a complementary colour to another better colour (well any colour is better) but I'm sorry 3 hours in a confined space, surrounded by this orange and common people if I did not need a holiday before well after that flight I felt I needed to be committed. The flight was long and cramped and I am sure if I farted I would have been charged.
         After taking large deep breaths to control myself and trying to get the feeling of being dirty and just been abused for the last 3 hours we quickly moved to the baggage reclaim. Now standing waiting for the bags my friend starts to worry that the no hassle travelling was going to go tits up when our bags did not turn up. We were standing at the wrong carousel and then I caught sight of a guy who was on the flight. OK not lying here he was not that bad looking, well when your on a flight with sleazy airlines good looking men are hard to find so when you see one you know there is a God somewhere. So we minced over and stood by him. Within seconds our bags where out and we were standing outside being greeted by my friend's sister. Welcome to sunny Spain.
          I have never been a fan of Spain. It has nothing to do with the Country or people who are both wonderful and charming but it is the good old British public. When I go abroad I want to take in the sights, sounds, smell and culture of that country and not to walk down the sea front confronted by the Queen Vic pub or English all day breakfasts. It pains me to say it but you can always spot the English on holiday. They look horrific, the language is very colourful and that's just the woman. The next ten days are going to be interesting and I know fabulously  full of Gay campness. Well it beats being on that island for ten days.............To be continued    

Up to my nipples in bubble wrap

          You all may have been wondering what has happened to old Disnarc this last week. Well my dear readers at long last we have moved into our cottage. Tuesday was the big day with workmen still running around  finishing off bits and pieces in the morning and carpet fitters laying the lounge carpet with the removal men arriving on the 3.30pm ferry from Portsmouth. Well if I can say I was a tad stressed that would be an understatement. One thing I have learnt is to keep the husband far away at work (he is as much use as a straight man at a Lesbian convention) and a bottle of sloe gin close by. Having packed over one hundred boxes and using over 300 metres of bubble wrap I knew there was a vast mountain to climb. But there is nothing stronger than a Queen on a mission.
          After every item was in the house I knew my best attack was to just go to bed and start early in the morning. When I was packing to move over here I did a fabulous job getting rid of a lot of rubbish, mostly Greg's but it was his fault for leaving me and buggering off to start work. Being a sentimental old thing I have trouble getting rid of things. I will never get rid of the blue and white Spode which were packed in ten boxes and Greg and I love paintings so with over eighty framed pictures they had to be bubble wrapped and packed.

          Now more work still needed to be done in the cottage so I had to be dressed and be ready for the workmen to start work at 7.30. I can hear you all thinking that Disnarc has never seen 7.30 before but I have been up at that time, well telling the truth it's more like coming in from a good night out but I have seen that time a few times before. I was up showered, moisturised and hair done by 7 and by 7.30 my house was full of workmen beavering around so I started in the bedroom ( get your minds out of the gutter I do mean unpacking clothes) and got to work.

          By 9 I was up to my nipples in bubble wrap trying to find the bottle of sloe gin thinking it must be lunch time and with all these hot and sweaty workmen around and the constant popping of bubble wrap I needed a drink. Time goes so slowly in the mornings and that is why a lady of leisure should never be seen before lunchtime. By midday I had lost the will to live but I'm a good little Gay solider and carried on not even stopping even for a sip of sloe gin. The afternoon went so fast like the petrol prices going up in the UK and by the time Greg got home from work most of the work was done and all that was left was the kitchen.

          As you all know I am not the best in the kitchen, all I know is where the gin bottle, tonic, ice and a glass are kept and the rest is a mystery, so my dear husband had promised to do the kitchen. Well he did clean the shelves and put the plates away but by Thursday morning when I got up it was still looking like a straight person's kitchen, so putting on my Gay super hero's cape (like a straight person's cape but with a bit more glitter and looks more fab on) I whipped around filling cuppboards and making the place looking more like a Queen's home. The kitchen is Greg's domain so he can rearrange it at his own time.
           All that was left to do was to hang pictures and the strange thing is I have always loved hanging pictures with my husband, I feel so butch hammering in picture hooks. Now the pictures are hanging on the walls and our cottage is fit for a Queen. The garden will need a lot of work as the workmen had used it as a workers yard but I love pottering about in the garden. Have not got a clue what the the plants are called and I have even been known to keep weeds as they look pretty. I have all summer to make it look gorgous.
          Now my dear readers I am tired after doing all that hard work so on Monday I am disappearing to Spain with Yvonne for ten days holiday. Total break away from everything to recharge the batteries and fill up on gin. Once back I will give you all the juicy gossip and tell you all about the fabulous half naked men on the beaches.
          We do not have any internet access still at the cottage so I am writing this from somewhere else. Hoping it will be all sorted once I get back but then again one thing I have found with this beautiful Island is that there is only one phone company and they have you by the balls and we are stilling waiting after three weeks to be connected. Where is BT when you need them.
         Dear Reader keep safe and have a Fabulous Gay time while I'm away but once I'm back all tanned and looking more gorgous I'm will be more camp and will keep you up to date with life of a Queen on Guernsey.  
       
   

A Queen's guide on how not to cook

            I am perfect in so many ways the list can go on and on, but one thing I cannot do is cook. Eating good food come's very easy and slides down beautifully when someone else cooks or pays for it, but making the stuff I'm buggered. All I can make is my man pot.            
         Years ago when I was young and single my dear old mother taught me how to make this one dish. Really it was a big stew that was Queen proof. Meat, vegetables, potatoes and gravy in a pot and then cook for a couple of hours in the oven. Every time I brought a man home for a meal I would cook this meal. Worked time and time again, the hunk would think he was dating Fanny Craddock. Then for the next few times I would make an excuse like, I'm too tired or have a headache. My best one was I'm on a diet so no solids for me just gin. I can go for days not eating, all I need is a fag and coffee.
         Now when I lived in Glasgow I shared a flat with my best friend and his flat mate who was the most disgusting and ugly Queen I have ever meet. All that I can say is this creature looked like Toad from Toad Hall with big bulging eyes and would waddle around the flat in a multi coloured kaftan that had holes from fag burns in places that made you feel queazy every time he bent over. We were all unemployed at the time and would take in turns when our giro's came through to buy shopping and cook.
        My day had arrived and as normal on giro day I was up dressed and showered before 7am waiting patiently for the brown envelope to drop through the letter box. Once it had arrived I minced down the street and waited in the queue for the post office to open. First things first was the rush to get a packet of cigarettes and then off to the supermarket to buy the food. Now we always wanted the cheapest food to make the money go as far as possible. I scanned the shop and the assistants, well I was single and always thought it would be handy to have a boyfriend who could get cheap food, there is no harm in looking. Coming across some cheap mince in the frozen section I thought I would grab it and make a variation or a cheaper version of the man pot.
        Home I skipped like Judy Garland along the yellow brick road. Once in and with Kylie belting out "I could be so lucky" in the back ground I set to work. Apron on, everything went into the saucepan. I chopped, sprinkled and cackled mixing up my concoction. All I needed was two more hags and we could be mistaken for the Three witches out of Macbeth. Oh I forgot the other two were still in bed. I had a couple of sips and thought the mince was a bit grizzly but then what do you expect for so much mince for only 97pence.
        Then around 11.30 the Toad appeared and lay on the sofa like the Queen of Sheba. He inquired what the beautiful smell was coming from the kitchen and when would it be ready. "Now" I informed him if he wanted some, getting a big bowl from the cupboard. Well, this Queen never did things in small  measures, I ladled out some of my mixture and handed it to him. As I returned to the kitchen I caught a glance of the packet of mince and ran straight to the bathroom.
        After ten minutes of heaving every item of food from my stomach, I composed myself to walk back in. What I had picked up at the frozen section was mince but not for humans but for dogs. As I entered the lounge to face the Toad and his complaining I was confronted by a large smile and the words straight from Oliver Twist "Please sir can I have some more?" Not a pretty sight at all.
 "Of course honey, Michael and I are on a Gin diet at the moment so you have the lot" Taking his bowl and filling it to the brim. At that moment Michael my other flat mate entered the room. Grabbing the empty mince packaging and then Michael's arm I screamed as I pulled him from the room, "Darling I've been up to my nipples in cooking all morning I need a Gin". Michael and I disappeared from the flat quicker than you can say poof.
       Every time after that when it was my turn to cook the Toad would always ask the night before if I was going to make that lovely mince dish again, but Michael would always chip in and make some excuse or  say that we had swapped roles that week. I never cooked in the flat again and left it to Michael or the Toad.

First encounter of the Queer type

          I left Truro at 18 to move to New Zealand. I was not out, still trying to find if there was more Gay people in this world other than me, John Inman and Larry Grayson. For passing my exams the old coffin dodgers which are my parents paid for me to go with my grandparents to stay with my aunt and uncle in Auckland for a time. After hanging around with them for 6 weeks and losing the will to live, I plucked up the courage to go into the centre of Auckland one Saturday to try and find some life and make friends. Noticing a couple of times before in a mall a male boutique with this screaming Queen working in there, who overtime had given me the Gay eye. Gaydar is one of those things that Gay men have and we know straight away when we are talking or looking at another Gay man. Don't ask me how we do it but it's just that queer eye.
        If I minced up and down that mall once I was up and down it a thousand times like a hooker's knickers on a Friday night. Trying to pluck up the courage to go in to his shop. Once in I slide over to him and asked if he would like to join me for lunch and straight away with the biggest squeal I had ever heard and he said yes. Now I am not blowing my own trumpet if I could I would but I was not bad looking between the ages of 18-26. Over 6 foot tall, blonde hair and blue eyes and very slim, not an ounce of fat to be seen. Oh what wonderful days they were, I do miss them. As I figured out in years to come Gay men are not so different from straight men when it comes to blonde's.

          Taking me down stairs to the food hall we picked our lunches and sat down. Making it very clear at the start that I was not interested in him as a date but could he show me around the Gay scene in Auckland. John was not a bad looking guy but oh he made me look like the Terminator which as you are becoming aware is a very hard thing indeed. Well, dear reader I was over the rainbow with excitement. An understatement really I was so excited I felt like a teenager flicking through his first copy of Razzler. I went home to tell everyone I was going out that night with friends. To be very honest my excitement got a luke warm response so I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening tarting myself up getting ready for my first night out. Every item of clothing was flung onto the bed and I left the house with half of bottle of perfume all over me, spraying parts most people cannot reach and wearing a jacket that had bigger shoulder pads than anything Joan Collins would have worn. Please remember that it was the 80's.
          I waited nervously on the street corner  trying to avoid the looks from men in the cars that crawled passed. In their dreams, I'm a good Catholic Gay boy I don't charge. After 30 minutes, boredom had started to creep in and feeling I had been stood up. Then from a distance I could see and hear a group of men walking, well I use that word "walking" very loosely towards me. Screaming and chatting every one of them was dressed in their best. Hair perfect  and not one crease on any of them and that included their faces. If Botox had been around then I would swear these girls had bathed in the stuff. Before I could draw breath I was in the middle of the group being introduced and being dragged off to my first Gay bar.
        My head was spinning, these guys were a mixture of butch and camp, young and old all talking at the same time and I understood them all. Men are from Mars and Woman are from Venus but Gay men are from.........lets leave that one up to you to put in. I drank and smoked, danced and got chatted up all in the space of a couple of hours. Ok dear reader one thing you have to understand is that in New Zealand at that time there was more sheep than people. I was fresh meat on the market and the attention was Fab.
       Looking back on that night all these years later I was lucky, John could have be a psycho or I could have be kidnapped and sold as a sex slave. Now that would be an interesting blog.
Before I go I just want to point out that I am a Gay Man who is 43 and every story is true and I'm not a middle class grey haired woman bored with her life pretending to be someone else.
     Until the next blog dear reader. Remember always have a Fab Gay time what ever you're doing.

Up to my nipples in the bathroom

           I have always been up to my nipples in something. Housework, shopping, Gin which is one of my favourite or other people's business. Housework is the one I hate the most. Never have been very good with it and it's a struggle when you live with a clean freak like my dear husband. The worst room in the house for me is the bathroom. I think it's because my Mother has an obsession with bleach. If you stand long enough in her house you will be bleached. Michael Jackson would have saved a fortune if he had come and stayed with her for a couple of weeks. Bleaching for her is a passion and I am sure that woman is addicted to it. Bet she gets moist just opening the lid and high as a kite the minute she starts pouring it around and starts to scrub. Greg is just like her, making sure every nook and cranny is sparkling.  For me it's a quick spray and wipe and that is an effort. The arguments that have taken place in our household over cleaning would make your pubs curl even more.
          Once after a long day at work my dear husband came home and told me what a pig I was for letting the bathroom get into a disgusting state and wanted the room to be sparkling to his standard by the time he got home the next day. Fair point, at that time I was not working and he was working long and hard hours. Ok please do not feel sorry for him. Greg is a workaholic who thinks a 12 hour day is  quiet. I am completely different I get puffed out just switching the channels over on the television. I can always find something else to be busy with than cleaning that bathroom.

         So the next morning with a pink pair of rubber gloves on I minced into the bathroom for a deep clean. I can hear you asking "but what did you clean it with Disnarc?" Well, my dear reader I always find the best thing to clean a bathroom with is a toothbrush. Yes, you did read it right.......A toothbrush. To be totally correct His toothbrush.
 Scrubbing and cleaning, that toothbrush went everywhere, down sinks, up drains and in every nook and cranny just like my dear old mother had taught me, and then finally the item I hate the most......... the toilet. Oh that toilet was cleaned to an inch of its life and once I had finished I placed the toothbrush back in its home ready to be used for what it was bought for.
         Greg was so pleased when he got home that night. The bathroom looked like new, sparkling and shining, you could eat your dinner off that floor. He was very impressed with the toilet even remarking he was amazed how I had got all the stains off. I proceeded to clean the bathroom twice a week exactly the same way. That toothbrush worked it's magic and I am sure even Greg's teeth looked whiter than ever before.
          I eventually told the truth after three months had gone by and now every two months Greg goes and buys a new toothbrush and sometimes I catch him sniffing it just before he places it into his mouth. After nearly 21 years together Greg knows now that I will get to the bathroom in my own time because I am always up to my nipples doing something better than having my arm down a toilet pan scrubbing. There is a moral to this story, first never piss off a Queen. We win in the end and you will always come off worse, much worse in the long run and secondly use a toothbrush to get all those nasty stains away from your bathroom and make sure he does not catch you doing it.

Remember be yourself and have a Fab Gay Time doing it.

       From an early age campness has been my companion and with that I have always been a controversial figure. I can remember mincing down the road at the tender age of 7 and being told to walk straight and looked at very oddly by family members when asked what music I liked and my reply would be Musicals and my favourite singer was Barbra Streisand. ( I would die to wear one of her dresses). It did not matter how hard everyone tried to butch me up and believe me they tried, the real person always shone through. My early childhood was Fab with only girls around to play with, making perfume out of rose petals, dressing up and putting on make up was an everyday occurrence.
       The best example of campness came at the age of 10, myself and my girl friends (I even had Fag Hags then) wrote to "Jim'll Fix It" All I wanted to do was wear one of Danny La Rue's wigs. You can imagine the storm that would have caused at the BBC if that would have been allowed on prime time television on a Saturday night in the 70's.

The Great Danny La Rue

      Weird really as when I became an adult I have only dressed in drag 3 times. Well, once you dress as Dame Shirley Bassey in front of the Queen of England and Prince Edward you know everything else will be boring. (Plus I came 3rd in that fancy dress party which was Fab as I had a big crush on Prince Edward at the time so it was an honour to be judged by both of them)  
      Growing in up in Truro in the 70's and early 80's and being very different was extremely difficult and then to move to a secondary school where on a daily basis to be beaten up, bullied, teased by your peers, because I was different from all the other boy's. I never allowed anyone to see how much it hurt or let anyone see me cry. Knowing if they saw any emotion they would have won.
      Getting beaten up daily I got used to and always the last kick was from one of the most popular boy in the school. Once he had given his blow (no pun intended) and no one was looking he would wink at me and whisper " Same place normal time" and I would know that meant  8pm in the lane where he would get his rocks off and I would get what I needed. He was the first but not the last. Oh if I was nasty I could now have a field day naming and shaming but that would not solve anything.
       It was not until my Mother and Father sent me to a private school things started to change.  During a Christmas Disco and the last dance started up, everyone else paired up and started slow dancing I cracked and tears flowed from my eyes like never before. The Headmaster led me to the library and proceeded to tell me that everyone in the school including the teachers knew I was Gay and it did not matter, so after the Christmas break he wanted me to return to school with my head held high and I have never looked back. I allowed the real me to come out.
      Funny really one boy that hated me so much and would bully, tease, beat me, in school and out I have now been told that he is as Gay as Gay could be. So now when confronted by homophobic's, the one's that are so anti Gay they cannot even mention the word Gay without their ugly face's distorting, I look on with suspicion knowing that maybe at night when their wive's and children have gone to bed they are down on the computer getting their rocks off and they are not looking at straight porn sites.
     Why am I telling you all this ? Well, two reasons really, first of all I have been thinking a lot since starting these blogs pondering on what am I going to write next and have been thinking about the events that have shaped my life. I would like people to try and understand me a just little better.  Secondly as I stare out of this apartment it's pissing it down outside, nothing on the television and Guernsey shuts down on a Sunday which is starting to bug the tits off me but that's for another blog. So I am enjoying looking back and remembering the good time's and the bad which I promise there will be lots more of.
      I hope you are enjoying reading my blogs and I am on Facebook as Disnarc Henry so feel free to add me as a friend so you will be one of the first to know when the next blog appears.
                Remember be yourself, and have a Fab Gay Time doing it. x
 

Fabulous Alderney Part 2

        Lying in the love bed I felt like Cleopatra, all that was missing was a couple of oiled up hunky young men feeding me grapes. Well, a girl can dream. I dragged myself out of bed, showered and dressed for breakfast. The day was beautiful and very warm so I decided it was time to bring out the green shorts Greg had bought for me a couple of days before. I must have looked a complete site as I walked down with Yvonne to breakfast in green pumps, lime green socks (rolled down of course) my green shorts and my green and blue top I had bought in South Africa a few years before. I must have looked like a deformed garden pea. Well, a least you could not miss me. Asked if we would like to have breakfast outside on the terrace we both jumped at the chance. Looking back I think the hotel staff thought it was best to keep me away from other guests so I did not scare them.
Breakfast was mouth watering good. Ever since I arrived in the Channel Islands all I have wanted for breakfast is pancakes with maple syrup and two pieces of bacon. I was not disappointed but I have to say you cannot beat Guernsey butter on your toast. Listen to me I am starting to sound like those two prats off Master Chef.
        After Breakfast I decided to mince up the hill to the town centre, when I got there it was a cobbled street with a few shops in it. After walking up and down I jump into the cafe called Jack's for morning coffee. Now I cannot tell a lie having already been told that a couple of Gay men had just opened the cafe I minced over to the terrace outside and sat down. Honey I was in Gay man Heaven, two handsome sexy men with muscles rippling everywhere, who were running around serving all the tourists and locals with such grace and style. I ordered and watched the performance. Next on my list was a shoe shop Yvonne just adores so off I went to introduce myself to the owner.
        Sue is a local character, after explaining who I was and what I was up to she had great pleasure in telling me "We have a lot of you gays on the island about 50 or 60" Well I can just imagine the parties on a cold winter's night that would be fun. If they all looked like the two in the cafe I was heading straight back to Guernsey and packing and moving here. But life is a queer old thing and I bet most are over the age of 70. Her shop was crammed full of shoes, plates, perfume, jewellery, bags and more. I got the impression if Sue did not have it she would get it for you.

        To pass some time I decided to have a quick look around the charity shop. Cannot help myself always looking for Blue and white Spode which is a passion of mine. No luck with the china but had a giggle with to old girls chatting about what was the best kitchen utensil to use to pull out weeds from the garden. I thought they were going to have a stroke when I said it did not matter what utensil was being used as long as it was being used by a fabulous looking gardener with tight shorts on bending over pulling them out for me. (I do mean the weeds).
        The next morning after breakfast Yvonne and I were whisked back to the 1950's airport for the flight home. Then my worst nightmare began.
I love Australians and love their accent, what I do not like is English people who have moved over there for a few years and try to copy. It just sounds like they have a cork stuck up them. Standing opposite us was one such woman, who was loud very loud and did not shut up for one-second. I knew this was going to be the longest 15 minute flight ever. I think this old bag only drew breath once and only stopped when the captain introduced himself. To my relief I was sitting next to the engine so her voice was drowned out but could still see her mouth moving. I reckon if you did a drugs test on her she must have been full of speed.
Alderney is beautiful and very calming, a place I would recommend to anyone, Gay, straight, young and old even lesbians. The population is full of characters who welcome everyone and all have large smiles on there faces.
I had a fabulous Gay time in Alderney and I am really looking forward to taking my Husband and son there soon for a couple of days. Plus must remember to pack some rope for that four poster bed.

Fabulous Alderney

View from my room.

        To my surprise I was asked to go with Yvonne on a business trip to our sister hotel in Alderney. The main purpose for the trip for me was to check out the island and hotel to see if it would be a great place for gay couples to spend a few days. I am not talking about silly little princesses who have just picked up a rich old coffin dodger for the weekend but for mature gay couples over 35. I can hear you screaming  that 35 is not mature but in this Gay world over 27 and your past it and over 30 your dead and yes in this Gay world I have been pushing up daisies for a very long time.
When it comes to travelling on a plane I struggle with anything other than First class. I know that I'm a snob but there is so many common people around, one has enough problems to deal with than to listen to some scrubber going on about her 7 children and how proud she is of her Jimmy who has stayed out of prison long enough to see his 3rd child born and to celebrate his 16th birthday.
      My eyes widened when I saw the aircraft we would be travelling in. A Trilander, which seats 16 and that includes the pilot. First we had to wait to be called, Fat people at the front next to the pilot and to my relief Yvonne and I were at the back being so slim. No room on this aircraft for a trolley dolly and I do find it uneasy to be able to see the captain, but still he had a pleasant voice so if the last words I ever heard were "Brace Brace" then I would be at ease bobbing up and down in the water blowing on my whistle. The journey only took 15 minutes and I did not have time to flick through the on board magazine and before I knew it we were going down quicker than a reality television star on a footballer.
      All I can say about the airport is it is so back in the 1950's. We both minced out of the airport to be met by this dishy Taxi driver waiting to pick us up and we were whisked off to the Hotel. Alderney is not that big an island so before I could turn my mobile back on we were there.

     The hotel is Beautiful and in a stunning location right on the sea front. You can walk from the terrace straight onto the beach. Every member of staff had large smiles on their faces and we were given our keys and off we marched to our bedrooms. Yvonne was in room 21 and she gave me room 24. Wow what a room. Two windows overlooking the beach and a four poster bed. Why is it that when you get a room you can have fun in your alone? Posts on a four poster bed are meant to be used not to look at. Note to self must bring husband back for a couple of days. Not to look around the island but to use the bed.
       The evening was wonderful, drinks in the pub next door then off just around the corner to a fab restaurant which again was from the 50's and a wonderful camp old girl in her 80's who you know would be game for anything. I fell in love with her straight away when she proceeded to tell us that there were children down stairs and she hated children. A Lady after my own heart. If I had my way any woman who got pregnant should be sent to Australia and the child could only return once they had reached 18 and only if they were good looking.

The love bed

      After returning to the hotel we had one more nightcap and then off to our bedrooms. Finding the room was easy but Yvonne had this idea she was in room 19 not 21, so after pulling her away from 19 and the old man behind the door thinking his luck was in I glided her to room 21, saying good night and minced off to my waiting four poster. I had to have another shower to sober a bit up before climbing into my love bed all alone. I fell asleep very quickly only to be woken up gagging for a drink and dripping with the heat in the room. I pulled back the curtains and opened the windows to hear and see the most beautiful morning and the waves gently crashing onto the beach.  It was Fabulous all I wanted to do was to get dressed and walk along the beach until I looked at my mobile and checked the time........4.30am and I was wide wake, so I just lay back in bed and watched the day breaking and I knew this was going to be a Fabulous Gay day..............To be continued.