Sunday 7^th November 2010

We haven’t seen or heard of Lord Arrowby for months. Then, on Friday, he texts.  Does he want to be back in?

To remind: he’s my part-time love interest, when I remember. Recently I’ve rather forgotten. He stalks the highest corridors of power in some mysterious back-room capacity. It is said he carries ultimate responsibility for solving the problem of the aging population (too many of them). In personality, he is a perfect demonstration of the Poor Little Rich Gay type – paradoxical, stern, grave, then giggly, given to intimate confidences, then remote, answerable to no-one, likely to induce in certain people a feeling that he might be saved. Art collection, recently taken up in a big way with designer clothes and grooming products, blue eyes, quite a looker. The last time I invited him, in June, he said, ‘What are you lobbying for now?’ It was funny and delicious. I began to wonder whether my attentions weren’t going to his head.

Anyway on Friday he texts – at some length. ‘I’m in your hood.’ That’s front-syllable lopping, my invention. He meant ‘neighbourhood.’ ‘Hood’ is also ‘childhood’. He was visiting single parents and the unemployed in their homes. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe to find out if they intend to become part of the over-expanded aging population in due course. It all sounds very Coalition Government.

Later – another text. He’s back from the Unemployed. I wonder if he lunched with them. Now he’s at Paul and Joe, getting a discount because it’s raining.

Paul and Joe! That’s quite an extreme frock designer.

What did you buy?

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