Tuesday 28th July 2009

You know about the spectacular villa war raging amongst the poor little rich gays. In a fortnight the Riverside Multis launch a thundering offensive with a fully-staffed, six-bedroom Tuscan mansion, which cannot fail to fully pulverise whatever cement hutch in tasteful beachside lemon with curly white balustrades the Limpney/Smallmeals have landed themselves with at Rimini.   

Now, at the last minute as usual, Anthony Mottram is lobbing in a two-week holiday in Malaysia with his current young man, Vladimir from the Ukraine.

I suffered a lunge of distress at the news.

It will be a classic, boutique-hotel, private-guide, private-chef, excess-luggage, full gay holiday with Mottram being paradoxical in the rich gay manner.  Any lapses of service and he’ll have his scalpel out: ‘What is your target time for bringing the drinks?’ ‘What sort of impact do you expect this sauce to have?’ On the other hand, he will aim to entertain staff with jolly banter. They should feel they’ve never had such a wild time. In California, in the Napa Valley, at a hotel glazed and polished and honed to etherised perfection, this didn’t work. ‘What’s the point of ironing the newspapers? I wouldn’t bother if I were you,’ Anthony said to the receptionist whose head started to roll alarmingly and almost fell off.  

You could say, ‘That’s California for you!’ Joshing not understood.

Lord knows what Anthony would make of the Copthorne Hotel in which I am now sitting (no Internet connection at the Gay Mother’s where I am staying. I was desperate). There is a huge party of Australians. The barmaid keeps saying over and over: ‘You’re due a welcome drink. Do you want to pay for this one and have the welcome drink later?’

Maybe they could have their welcome drinks on departure.  It might be hard to fit them in.

For the last twenty years, I have always had my summer holiday with Anthony and whichever young man he happens to be giving a start in life to. Travelling as a three, no doubt passers-by were thinking: ‘Isn’t modern science wonderful! Look at those gays, they’ve got a son!’

It was an unusual arrangement. But until recently Anthony and I also always had a week to ourselves at New Year. Attractive European destinations. But when this new young man was introduced, that was no longer convenient and the New Year holiday was abolished, not to be replaced. As a threesome, always Anthony and I and the third one not being a fixture, of course, we have had numerous tours, in Africa and Europe. Anthony and I would do most of the talking, breaking off to answer questions from the younger one, who might be mainly attached to a computer, looking for educational opportunities.

This year I cruelly threw over Anthony and Vladimir in favour of the Riverside Multis’ villa in Tuscany. This new relationship with Vladimir from the Ukraine shows great promise. It is quite likely to develop into a complete, equal partnership. The Multis’ offer could not have come at a better moment and I was thrilled to accept it.

But now I am just a little wounded.  Anthony has mentioned at various times that we might visit Malaysia together. But now I find other arrangements have been made.  He might have chosen a more modest holiday. There are many agreeable mountain huts to be had in Rumania or Slovakia with dining possibilities in nearby ex-Communist restaurants. Wholesome cabbage soup, grey or purple cutlets, yellow or pink pudding  – surely this would have done?

Sadly, Malaysian boutique it is to be. Gay relationships may only appear to be less conventional than straight, although I know of only a handful that are exactly what they seem. The companionable partnership, founded on esteem and understanding of the kind that is only possible between equals (if you want to know what I’m talking about read Pride and Prejudice), but minus the sex and romance, is quite a feature. The difference, compared with hets, possibly, is that gays have more powers of endurance. You may have heard that they were awfully brave in the War.