Thursday 21^st July 2011

I’m now at the Gay Mother’s but it was last Friday actually: the Photo Multi messaged ‘What are you doing this evening?’ I said: ‘Come round.’  As he always says, ‘The truly powerful are always free. Only the weak are fully diarised.’ Ironic in view of our later intimate conversation.

But every room of my home was upside down; the workings were revealed: remember, Poor Little Rich Gays go up a step ladder when no-one’s looking.  I had 40 mins to: finish weeding the garden, tie up plants, clear away equipment including step-ladder, vac out my ‘conservatoire’ (well, a small area with glass roof beside the garden, although glass roof cost £5000, paid for by the Gay Mother, selected by Bruce MacBain), remove drying clothes, screw coat pegs to wall, rub up dining table, rub up kitchen floor, tidy drawing room, conceive a 3-course menu, shop at Waitrose, shower and outfit. In stock I had breakfast radishes, padron peppers, Duchy sausages, beetroot so only mackerel fillets, red onion and strawberries to acquire. I whirled as in a classic chase scene from Tom and Jerry with the scurrying music.

The Photo provided fayne waynes.

We picked over Poor Little Rich Gays recently seen, all in their way impossible. The loathsome Limpney/Smallmeals – do you remember them? Very much forgotten but not forgiven by me. Some years ago I challenged their hysterical diarisation. I said I didn’t care to be invited to Massivebury, their country estate, six months in advance.  They responded by tearing down that house (if you recall we tried to save it, without success) and throwing it into a pit as well as refusing ever to speak to me again.

It’s said that if you’re trying to therapise the disturbed you must not breach their defences (not quite clear how to therapise in that case, but never mind). The full diary, of course, provides a wonderful vista of occupation and belonging. Best to keep it up.

The Photo Multi became confidential. His glory is that he allows himself to be completely known. He has no guile and accepts no confinement. A day or two later, Sebastian Archer, who was hiss and spit with the Photo for some years (if only the News of the World had hacked in there) by e-mail said: ‘You’re quite bossy but…’ Some, either lesser or themselves unruled, can only see a barrage of money and an uncompromising love of market forces. But the full sweep of extreme extremes is remarkable and fully displayed – bouncy, affectionate, welcoming, gleeful and delighted by colour and shape, hence graphing non-stop; also shrewd and insightful, as well as bold and self-knowing. Of course, Poor Little Rich Gays should not expect an easy life. The Photo confided that he went a bit far with Fergus Strachan in the affair of the 7 euros for the packet of fags. Sometimes the underlying vulnerabilities of PLRGs occasion a locking of horns. But Poor Little Rich Gays are not bitches. They do not mercilessly blame others. In the end there is reconciliation without loss of grandeur or only small loss of grandeur.

The alarming thing is that the Multi Riverside Penthouse has been back-syllable lopped: it’s down from a Pent to a Pen. Yes, a pen, such as contains sheep. The howling wind on the twelfth floor is a drawback. I sense it won’t be long…

Come back tomorrow – masses to tell: what Val saw on a bus’s side, Bruce MacBain’s curtain agony, the Gay Mother, 87, and her rocky walk in the riverbed – not to mention my sales purchases, their display here long, long overdue; next week and the week after that after that we have massive boardings for abroad.

Last-Minute PLRG-Style: Both Items in Stock

How Things are Done Last Minute PLRG-Style

A Decorative and Nutritious Last Minute 1st Course

The Back-Drop for the Last-Minute Dinner at the Home of Me, Adrian Edge