buggerzblog 46 & 47

Buggerz Blog 46

Well, I will keep this short. The main point being to send you a photo of me in pink and gold at the end of the fashion show here last Saturday: “Gay not Grey“. I just appeared right at the end of the show, which was an Afro-Cuban extravaganza: with lots of music and danke (there may be a video to come. I will keep you posted). I appeared at the front of the stage, in a cluster of spotlights and delivered the following text (ostensbly from Charlie Chaplin):

“Life is one long piece of theatre. Trouble is there is no chance of a dress rehearsal. So just drink, laugh and dance, love and live as intensively as possible until the curtain falls.
Because when the show is over it will fall and it will be abrupt and brutal: AND there will be no applause!” (as you will see I added quite a few adjectives to spice it up). But it all went down splendidly, and I intend to wear the same costume, in an adjusted fashion, this coming Saturday for the CSD Parade.
I just hope I manage to attach the damn picture now: here goes……

Tomorrow I am doing an interview for BBC radio. And the day after that a film interview for a film, abtut sexuality amongst old people (sorry, straights as well, not


Thar’s about it for now apart from a speedy trip to Manfred’s country bolthole in Fürstenwalde. Which was on the day of the start of the World Cup, so we watchd that in an open-air street caff, surrounded by deliciously sweating, passionate Brazilians.

El Bugger

Buggerz Blog 47
Mostly future plans

In the meantime the whole of “Gay not Grey“ can be seen on YOUTUBE, the kinda stuff masochists dream of! I just appear right at the end of the show, so there is a lot you can skip. A week later I was also in the CSD gay pride Parade through the heart of Berlin.

As can only be the case in a city where you have a superabundance of faggots there was an endless dispute about CSD routes and nomenclature this year with the result , when they discovered that the word “Stonewall” is copyright, that there were 3 parades (we decided to go on the one that gets the most coverage. The sun didn’t shine but it was great just being there.) At the beginning various ambassadors make speeches: there was one by a woman from Nigeria, which was very moving: I quote, roughly:

“if I can see a Parade of this nature in Nigeria, even in 20 years time, with such liberty of expression: then I will be happy. Now go out there and smile and show the world that you love each other!!”

Made a very good start……

Next weekend there is an “alternative” CSD Parade called “Mad & Disabled”. believe me, they don’t whip me, but I am going on this one too, partly because it ends up with a party in a wheelchair-friendly disco.
One of the ones I am NOT going on is the one called quite simply called “DYKE MARCH”!, guess why?

This last week I have been out and about quite a lot: my friend Manfred has a small bolt-hole in a forest about 30 mins by train from here: so we go there for weekends or short stays, which is bliss, I can tell you! Also we/he has/have much bigger, more visionary plans for the future. When Manfred was on holiday in March in Morocco, he met some people/families with ideas which
he is determined to turn into a long-term project: most of it is centred around a sort of “freetrade” development of the famous exclusive (to Morocco) argan tree, the oil of which is fabled for its rejuvenating properties and gastronomic virtues. Just Look at the labels in Bodyshop! ( or the recent photos of me, since I have been using it).

Anyway, this will all involve him being for lengthy periods of the year in Morocco, but still with a base in Berlin, thank god, ( in a place called Sidi Ifni, about 180 km. south of Agadir and on the threshhold of the Sahara. Anyway, it all sounds fabulous and I have been given tue official OK from Manfred to make this first public statement about things: there are already quite a group of us in our ’patchwork family’ involved which makes it more than intriguing for me. It means some work, but not too much work, that is the idea for everybody. And Manfred’s principal idea is to ’suggest’ projects, in outline, whether, farming, cultural, making clothes with local materials ob producing grocery products, but no one will stipulate the details of the projects. The idea is to auto-motivate the participants to work on them on their own. Of course it is non-profitmaking and the business form will be a cooperative.

I won’t say any more at this juncture, other than that I am in 7th heaven that I have been asked to get involved: I will be there for the first time in February/March for 4 weeks (already booked), because my doctor is very anxious that I should be in the sun a lot because I have osteoporosis.

What better an excuse could I ask for, plus the fact that the accompanying person is butch ’( don’t worry, not too butch!) and a dream to cook with and to talk to. I simply can’t wait to get out there!
If anybody fancies joining us just contract me on this site.

By the way it‘s is not quite as naive as it might sound: I have been to Morocco 5 or 6 times and have driven the length and breadth of the country Sahara/Atlas/Rif on my own. My „EX“, Jochen, had a house in the souk in Marrakech, so I am pretty aware of the perils.

But more of this next time. It is now 21:37 hrs here and still 27°C and sunny. Needless to say the garden is a picture, especially the hollyhocks, you could think you were in an English nursery rhyme!

Needless to say I also recently did another filmed interview on ‚sexuality in extreme old age‚, made by students from the Catholic University!, YOU were the only one who would agree to talk to us, they charmingly said!

Now beat that!

… and wach this space of course………………….
El Bugger

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buggerzblog 47

here is the artichoke recipe I

Artichauts à la barigoule

Ingredients for 4 persons:
8 small pointed artichokes (usually the Spanish or Italian kind)
600 grams small new potatoes
600 grams shallots
600 grams small turnips (navets)
2 small carrots
10 cloves of garlic
350 cl red wine (any old plonk will do)
350 cl vegetable or chicken stock
Half a wine glass of good olive oil


quarter the artichokes lengthwise, including any stalks they may have on them
peel the garlic cloves and halve them also lengthwise
Wash the potatoes. DO NOT PEEL them! Slice them also lengthwise, or quarter if larger,
cut the carrots into chunky sticks
halve or quarter the turnips
peel the shallots and halve them lengthwise ( do not cut off the bottom, or they will fall apart!)
put all of the ingedients, including the 3 liquids, pepper and salt, into a largish casserole. Bring to the boil and and simmer approx. 30 – 45 minutes or until the vegetables are cooked to your personal liking:

Serve on soup plates with baguette and a reasonable red wine.

I take no personal credit for this recipe: it is just as I remember it from a postcard I once bought in Provence!





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Bggerzblog 44

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Buggerz Blog 44
Cooking lasagne and nail varnish for arte TV!

Beware letting a TV crew into your kitchen!
For some recondite reason the franco/german TV station arte have been filming me in various modes in the last week for some kind of programme insert (probably about the miraculous phenomenon of ageing faggots actually being able to breathe and cook and eat at my age) no doubt all will be revealed in due course. Anyway, this is what they have been putting me through, although it was a good refresher course in filming in French…………….

One always thought how snazzy, how glamorous, but having done a whole meal, from top to tail for running TV cameras I advise against it!:

First of all there is the choice of recipe: don’t be over-ambitious, by the time you have done the 10th take peeling 30 cloves of garlic, you will be thinking “dry Martini”. I had chosen to do my vegetarian lasagne, which has indeed become one of our “house dishes” here: (recipe attached). Cutting up the vegetables and layering them with the pasta and the 2 sauces was a cinch. What I had not given a thought to, was what do you do with a fretting camera crew: while the thing is in the blasted oven for 45 minutes: I can’t give them all a second blow-job: it’s still only 11:45 a.m. THAT would really being going some, even by my ultra- sociable code of genital hospitality. So unthinkingly: I sat at the dining table and started to touch up my nail varnish: for the theatre group ( I am still on battleship grey, with glitter it goes down a treat in the spring sunlight! It never occurred to me that I might be asked to do about 12 re-takes of me opening and closing the bottle of nail varnish: I hope you will all watch out for this rivetting scene, when we “appear”.
Anyway then the finished product appeared, viz. the lasagne, was dished up at table with all of my flatmates, who, god knows, I swear I hadn’t bribed, all tucked in in an examplarily loyal manner, even asking for seconds, the little geriatric darlings.
Apart from this gastronomic episode. They also filmed me having a bone density measurement – HOW fucking glamorous can this get!! AND they even filmed me having physiotherapy at JUST MEN in the gay ghetto part of town, this is understandable, since the therapist Fabian Kokot-Sgaslik ( get that name girls!) is the hunk of all time, the ‘sensitive’ kind of hunk, don’t get me wrong. We haven’t converted to cattle, not yet!
So that was just fine and dandy. then back to the flat to do me being Percy Thrower (TV gardening presenter)/Capability Brown on the balcony, lovingly planting forget-me-nots, pansies (of course) and white daisies on our patch high in the air.

Then “Colette at home” – me writing this fucking drivel on the computer for the blog. Then they were done for apart from the little detail of the actual interview, done on 2 cameras, 1 just constant profile, which lasted for nearly 2 fucking hours.

So what else has been goin on in this alhambra of action and entertainment? Well this week we actually had our premiere of the Pink Winkle (Rosa Falte) in their latest biographical, improvised work, featuring me as Rita the Ruin, the alcoholic, nympho tart with the sex appetite of Casanova, Cleopatra AND Elizabeth Taylor rolled into one!

Gay not grey, the Fashion Show for the ancient is on the cards again: this time being directed by a ruthless Cuban Professional, a workaholic product of the Fidel System which yielded the Topicana Nightclub in Havana and assisted by a Brazilian and a Senegalese musician, so it promises to be quite amusing, even if relentless hard work.

We shall see!
Went down to the Wilde Oscar Restaurant here last nicht, tempted by the trashiest transvestites I have seen in a long time, competing for the honour of being Miss CSD Berlin 2014. Boy, some trash I must say! The corridors of gay politically correct emancipation were awash with lipstick and sticky with rouge.
The winner of this first heat was Miss Jurassica Park, a tall lanky berk who actually had the cheek and audacity to accompany herself on the piano, where all the others used professional backing tracks.
BRAVO girl!

Another brave candidate was the 70 year old Hortensia Hodenstock (Hydrangea Bollock-farm, would be a generously decorous translation: SHE was really something else: the “wild card” as the Jury put it! I promise to try and get a photo if she is in the next round!

Believe it or not, there are actually 2 theatre groups in this building!
The other one is run by a woman called Ulrike, who would make the late Duchess of Windsor look like an abstinent purist and fresh skin health freak, in terms of caked make-up: Anyway, as I was waiting in the wings, for my first entrance, she came up to me, and invited me, to also join the other (rival) theatre group. Well since they have also apart from the super-abundant wrinklies, a couple of tight-arsed lads ( Knackärsche, or as close a translation as occurs to me at the moment) in their twenties, I might well go along, just for art’s sake of course!

My friend Jan from Hamburg has been here for another of his highly intellectual seminars at the Humboldt University, which are happily regularly punctuated by visits to me and action-packed bouts of Rioja-drinking in the restaurant here: he also just whirls me off in the wheelchir to the ’Ku-Damm or wherever, undeterred, as on this last occasion by the fact that I was wearing a glittering Primark knee-length cocktail dress, recently given to me by my god-daughter Louisa, and a great success it is too, with my hairy torso squeezed into it!

Well Jan and I had a good time: and I delivered his long-overdue Xmas present ( last time I was rushed into hospital before I could cook it) ’artichauts à la barigoule’ a simple peasant dish.
If any of you desires the recipe just mail me: it is basically tiny quartered artichokes and new potatoes, carrots and tiny turnips, slowly cooked in one third olive oil, one third vegetable stock and one third red wine, with lots of garlic too.

My goodness, I don’t think I mentioned the grand royal visit from London of my great friend Sara Lunn/Willett, the painter, and her sister, my afore-mentioned god-daughter Louisa. They stayed for a few days at an aptly named hotel on the Kudamm called “Louisa’s place”. They spent most of the time, it appears in the night club of utterly depraved repute “The Kitkat Club”. (dress code, naked or rubber). Amazes me: I never travelled with full rubber at the age of 40, and I’m gay for god’s sake! However I believe they did squeeze in a few cultural events as well, since most of you here know them, you are welcome to check up yourselves: AND do try to get photos of the rubber suits for the next blog here!

Well, I think that is most of the gossip I have for today: since Manfred is on his brain-washing, refresher holiday in Morocco at the moment, the hard core stuff will have to wait until next time (all that stuff about Atlantic surfer boys and fishermens’ tackle (those of you who speak British slang, will know what I mean!)


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buggerzblog 42

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Buggerz Blog 42
A sort of buggerz birthday blog:
Yes even buggerz have birthdays! Including JUST MEN!

Beware the incöusion of nauseating, puke-making self-indulgence and ineluctable wave of sick-kitsch which is about to rise to the surface(My birthday was proceeded by the revelation at an English tea party here that my close friend and neighbour Bernd Geiser also has his birthday on Jan 19th:

On the evening of this revelation I was at a simple in-house flee-market here: when the drag queen Miss Ginger (Torsten, our make-up artist) sang a Version of Marlene‘s Standard “Johnny, wenn du Geburtstag hast! subsitituting my name for Johnny, so at the end, when he had finally stopped wiggling his arse in my face: I just said Januar 19 darling: to which he said: huh, me too! So there are 3 of us with the same birthday…..

(you might all well be thinking, “what is all this shit with birthdays anyway? YOU have never had a birthday in Germany! initially many years ago I tried to avoid my birthday, by taking trips abroad: Forget it! Costs a load of money: and achieves fucking nothing… And you will just be punished by having to celebrate the whole event anyway when you return: just to elaborate: when I worked at Deutsche Grammophon. They kept an in-house lexikon, of when everybody’s fucking birthday was: and if you achieved a round figure decade, which one inevitably does. Teere would bei a fucing red campet at tue entrance when you arrived at work. Try ignoring that and not giving the obligatory sparking wine knees-up in tue Office. Nowadas I do not try to avoid it: just go in at tue deep end and get tue fucking thing over
So, on this occasion what I decided was according to the Sibley philosophy of “getting in first.” I would do the first event of the day: A champagne breakfast, even though, or precisely because it was Sunday at 9 a.m. served on the dot with “full English breakfast” ( I have been badgered for some time to provide the dreaded English blow-out, so why not force the buggerz to get up early, wash etc. and drag themselves to the table: weich they did almost without excepion, and with many others from within the building, a forest of flowers and carnival feathers. The thing ran on until around 2 pm. The cooking problem was solved by Manfred, of South London and Bavarian fame and notoriety, having done the night shift, taking a quick nap, with strict instructions to be hammered awake at 8 a.m., helping with the baked beans, grilled toms, crispy bacon fried eggs and fried bread of course: so we managed to bang everything out!

And every last goddam fart-filled bean was eaten!!
Later in tue day Bernd did his bit, by fielding a magnificent dinner at Marjelchen rund tue Corner fro here , a truly inimitable experience, for tue prize-bosomed proprietress ( do call up her web site, inenglish!) and for tue food weich is east German up to tue furchtest erstwhile border of Germany, I believe around tue kurrent Kaliningrad: a gastronomic Pearl of an experience: for all involved:
And I have to say not at all tue worst birthday i have ever had in Germany……….




I THINK THAT’S ENOUGH FOR TODAY FOLKS. Although there is loads of stuff to come about Canadian anthropologists and stunningly beautiful male physiotherapists. And of course the usual womens magazine shit about my tmpestuous love life. So wach this bleeding space kids!

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Buggerz Blog 41


Manfred… it fits! (not Cinderalla’s shoe. But by my Standards, almost!)


Beginning 2014



So a Happy New year to all of you luckless, hapless buggers!

here’s some of the weekend’s highlights!

Having been tantalised with the thought of 10 days holiday over new year with Manfred. Queen of the Allgäu, I was still in hospital shortly before Dec. 26. Then I got released: and finally, as my Xmas surprise, also for all the Otter jealous bitches, I was able to rush off with M. to the Station on 31 Dec. whence we rushed to the Polish border to be picked up by Anke, and old friend of his, in whose house we stayed for tue next few days:new year was more or less German traditional: at 22:00 hours we retired to tue freezing, frosty Fields behind the house, where a splendidly constructed bonfire awaited us! Built so as not to collapse inwards as it burns: so there with a clutch of kids and a host of rockets and Roman candles the kids did all of those things with fireworks which they are warned in the UK not to do, short of munching them and a bottle or two of bubbly. We rounded off the night: to retire to an idyllic nicht. In tue morning I began the New Year by preparing a shoulder of the hostesse’s own garden lamb, larded with 40 cloves of garlic, caramom, cumin etc- which led  in the afternoon to a long wheelchair walk with the dog Gustav, we saw masses of mistletoe in the trees, which Manfred did not need to be persuaded to harvest: he just climbed into and UP the entire tree as if it was a ladder  about 9 metres. Leaving me to wonder what sort of emergency line one rang here for broken leg service: Germany or Poland? I decided to forget the latter, on the assumption that a non-catholic country would be better_ In the afternoon, Anke gave me masses of comfrey root to make poultices to repair my broken leg, at the same time, this new friend, who has known M. for many years, gave me copious notes on which of his friends “were bad news wnd worthless barstards!`

Thanks Darling! I den’t think this is news I will be breaking to him!

Anyway we parted excellent friends, with me invited back open-ended into the future, and espeliay on 21 January when we will bring back  Gustav for the 10 weeks he will be here whilst Manfred will be  in South America: after his return, and during the coming year, we hope to resume, what he refers to as “our world trip!:

I just refer to it as heavon on earth!  Just hope I can live long eniugh to enjoy it!

Anyway Manfred and i seemed to agtee on the divine nature of our trips together: he sent me an SMS this morning, which seems to meet to best express the true and desired close friendship  between 2 gay men of vastly differing ages:

He said’ I like spending time with you. It just +‘fits’ e.g. the main hobbies, sex, cooking, gardening, travel, concerts etc.

Well, this is a friendship I will sure be working hard on, especially now that everyone on the Polish border knows that my stage name is Rita the Ruin,

what the fuck do I have to lose!

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Buggerz Blog 39




………….. And you cannot please all of them ALL of the time!


It appears that I have mortally offended the feelings of a fat curvaceous queen from Hamburg, who seems to have forgotten that Hamburg is NOT Berlin: THAT is why I no longer wanted to live there!


Hamburg is a middle-class provincial dump! with jumped up ideas above its station!




The party concerned is popularly known in the homosexual subculture as Jan Rubens, largely because of his Rubensesque gorgeous curves: he is indeed a very close friend of mine: whom I knew for 6 years or so in Hamburg: and who works very often in Berlin: not your normal gay scrubber: he actually teaches at both the Humboldt and the Free University here: YES: I DO associate with intellectual faggots too:  he is an adorable and loyal friend who has followed me through every stage of my health crisis: and should be thanked and adored for this AS WELL as being whipped naked chained to the Brandenburg gate on New Years Eve, for his insolence: one does not request praise, one earns it dear Jan! and you have indeed earned it! I adore you YES even in front of all these pople!


Hang around Darling!



See you soon as Honorary Berliner here. The last blog, was meint to underline my new Berlin circle of friends! IT DOES NOT mean that I have dismissed all of the others you stupid belangloses bitch!

And IF I had a pic of you I would show it: as it is I can only recommend Rubens’ woman with generous breasts!


More news of divine New Year on the Polish border to come this evening! If I make it!

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Buggerz Blog 38

………….. and life goes on, just about!

Let’s just pause to try and see the funny side! just a few days before Xmas and I am in the Schlosspark Klinik Berlin for the 2nd time: had 2 more OPs to remove the elaborate amount of metal from my broken leg, since it didn’t seem to be cutting the mustard! this fact was established by the nurse at home as she changed the dressing: suddenly crying” Jeez, I can see the screws!” thus we ascertained that all was not well. and above all that it was my leg she was looking at and not my head!

Took the 309 bus to the clinic (handy that……… door to door to A & E)

Now on Monday in 2 days we have the delight of anticipating a third OP. in which they will examine the alternative of a skin graft: Seems as if this is the best hope: since I now have osteoporosis.
Who’d have thought it! But so does my friend Anna Köhler and she is 76 and has had it under control for years. So I will be getting a few tips from her.
However, quite lot of support from my NEW CIRCLE OF BERLIN FRIENDS:: above all from Bernd, Manfred, Markus, Thomas, Viktoria and Elena: Thank god, I made the decision to consciously cultivate a new circle of friends and activities in the middle of this year!

Best decision I could have made I think!….. quite apart from the lack of any alternative! since I am not a paid-up member of any of the currently popular purveyors of boosting, mprale-nourishing fairytales: viz. the church, buddha, the Koran, Shinto, Confucius, crack cocaine, beluga and champagne, toyboys and dildos, unsafe sex with David Beckham, ANY kind of sex with David Beckham, even sex with Louis Hamilton or Jenson Button, pornography et al…

Thank god we still have Monty Python to believe in! of course at risk of trying to profile myself as lonely & pathetic, I also have the theatre group, the garden group, the neighbourhood support group, cooking at home, the piano (on the back burner I’m afraid with the leg not able to operate the pedals) PLUS I hope to be out of here on the 21st, (dreams are made of this!!) at the latest to put the finishing touch to the table silver and the floral decorations before the dreaded day of druidical joliment: this is all dependant on the state of the leg after its next OP, and its cooperative facility: on which I am putting big money: because after the last two OPs I had virtually no pain at all!
let’s hope it stays that way!
———- more to come, off for a nap now!

not much happened except that I have a date for tomorrow: Manfred coming over after work!!
a big UPPER that!
I must confess, life at the moment would be pretty grim without him!
but I must start to come to terms with the grim reality of this accident alone::::: must do exactly what the doctors order (not exactly my forte: I like rather to bend the rules! but the future mobility of the leg depends more or less wholly upon this!)
and what a welter of mixed opinions there are!

Most of what I need could be done at home here anyway, particularly the food bit, since I need to put on quite a lot of weight quite quickly! TRY that on hospital food!

Whereas at home I can eat and drink what I like when I like, AND help cook it too: especially in the highly calorific festive season ( and we have designed a fatty carnivorous menu to blow your mind and most folks’ waistlines too: but unless I can wheedle my way out of here,,, it won’t do much for me!
The other factor is mobility of body and, above all, of mind! the latter especially: because lying in a hospital bed is definitely not my thing! I am working hard on this one above all, that’s one reason I am writing all of this pukeful trash: because at least it keeps me out of bed for a tiny bit longer: so expect a deluge of rubbish over the next few days!

I will try to dose it as delicately as possible!

………………………but before Manfred came, Viktoria (our retired doctor) arrived to give me some advice on how to behave in a “give health a fucking chance ” manner after the OP.

She went back to the WG to buy me a chinese meal for tonight!
Manfred and I went to the cafeteria for a moan-and-love- you-darling chat!
Then we retired here to the computer having run through all of the rumours about our “scandalous” behaviour: you know the stuff: just because we don’t visibly hate each other we are supposed to have raped every man in sight ( at least all of those palatable in the eyes of the gossipers!)

They would, as always, be disappointed with the truth: I have discovered that gossiping faggots nearly always get the story 100% the wrong way round, thinking the person they want to FUCK them is fucking the person they “hate”, whereas it is usually the other way round: the person they want to fuck them is actually getting fucked by the person they “hate”…………

………. don’t know why they dream all this shit? – it must make for very poor masturbation!

Anyway, now I can look forward to my chinese microwave!!
good, since as from midnight I am “nil by mouth” until tomorrow afternoon!
Now we will take a dinner break!
……………………and see today’s rushes in the screening room of my ultra-cynical eye…………
then I will interpolate with an overview of my years in Germany

*********************************************************…………Just before the OP the doctor came to me and said, “we would like to try an experiment with you! Normally the procedure we are about to do requires an anaesthetic, with you we would like to try it without! If you feel ok with this! me:

” yes, ok”

well it did not hurt too much: AND I could take photos!
They even repeated some bits for me, the doctor saying: “did you get that bit?”
No pain as such, but no concrete decision either except that there will be another OP on Thursday which has now been postponed to Friday: so it is clear that I will be stuck here for Xmas! tomorrow Manfred will be bringing some dinner for us to eat together! Thank god! just feeling utterly senile today: that’s the only effect hospitals have on me!
I specifically feel 20 years older today: AND I feel blocked at every turn: I suppose many would say: “well that’s just old age! but I am not quite ready to throw in the towel yet! although one constantly has the feeling that that is what they would prefer!


now here is the above-promised précis of my time in Germany..

…………mainly for my own enlightenment!

I first came to Germany on a work basis in 1968 when I was on a brief winter holiday in Hamburg and was offered a job at Deutsche Grammophon ( or Polydor International as it was rapidly re-named).
In those days DG was the flagship ornament of the company, which then still belonged to Siemens: it’s colours principally flown by Herbert von Karajan. Whose illustrious recordings were continually subsidised by the earnings tumbling in in millions from the endless albums of a German musician from Bremen who learnt to play jazz from the occupying Americans: his name was and IS James Last… and HE is still on the road! some folks have stamina!I

I worked here in Hamburg in the interntional department, initially as art director and then also as coordinator of international artists’ promotions, which meant flitting around the world arranging tours and publicity campaigns: after about 8 years of this I managed to manouevre a move to the London office for a further few years, the period which started and confirmed my non-love affair with the USA………………

This Polydor period in London was in the Marylebone Road in Harley House
…… at least during this time I could live in my flat in Clapham: and this was the second long core period of my life as a Londoner (which is what I still really regard myself as: the first period had been the years at the Royal Shakespeare Company in the Aldwych Theatre and the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square).

Then, somehow or other, my flatmate Harry Waistnage, the stage designer: came to London for Xmas ( he was working on the Dietrich/Bowie film “Just a Gigolo” at the time) and he brought his assistant Jochen Canobbi, with him. So, as Jochen always said, we met in a phone kiosk at Victoria Station.

That was the beginning of 18 wasted years of private life, in my opinion: but I have bored you all with that before! I mention it here because the resulting affair, which started during my time of working for Backstage productions in London. “Filumena” directed by Franco Zefirelli, a Dracula exravaganza with George Chakiris as the villain…….. then the WHO’s TOMMY with which I had often been involved over the years. which featured my friend Peter Straker as the narrator and played at the Queen’s Theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue.

Anyway having met Jochen, we at first and very temporarily moved back to Berlin, to the Chamissoplatz in Kreuzberg, before forming a film set construction company on Eiswerder in Spandau. We were into lofts before the term had even been invented!! This was done in cooperation with his sister who stupidly gave up the charming flat in Kreuzberg, the same one, which had been expanded and renovated to turn it into a gem, wish I had it now of course!

All of this with the company lasted about 1 whole year before we rushed over to London leaving a trail of debts! We shacked up at Helen and Russell’s. I was already very busy at work on an LP for the Italian group KRISMA, whom I had come to know via Polydor and who had visited us in the Berlin lofts and rather fancied my poems as the basis for song texts: Think I resisted?? of course not. and the result was a hit album (‘Cathode Mama’…… you can still hit it on Youtube! which yielded two number 1’s in Italy.) So most nights I was in the studios with Hans Zimmer incidentally, who did sessions on the album…… YES he was still a session musician! in Wardour St. at Trident Studios most nights, leaving JC at home to do some “creative thinking” as Russell called it! Eventually he got a job in Sheila Pickle’s perfume shop Penhaligons…… and was eventually tempted by a film job back to Hamburg………. and by a woman whom he married and divorced with a speed worthy of Elizabeth Taylor!

I forget the chronology of the series of events somewhat, but I think he went to Venezuela to make a film somewhere there: it didn’t come to much AND yes I WAS stupid enough to follow him for a short time: I think then I had a longer period of not working in Germany: right and I fancied getting lost in a Venezuelan tropical jungle at Christmas time!
Then I got involved in catering and then opened a restaurant in Down St. in London: rave notices from Fay Maschler etc. but the stuff we were doing was basically too sophisticated for the financiers!
Just before I left there Helen Montagu was opening 42nd. Street with David Merrick at Drury Lane. to cut many stories short: this was in 1984. I started to work at the “Lane” and that went on for nearly 5 years: during which time I earnt enough money to buy a divine house in Normandy. Jochen was at the same time buying us another house in Normandy (we had recently bought a house together in Forest Hill in London and then he promptly bought a house in the souk of Marrakesh , together with a well-heeled girlfriend from Stuttgart, so at that stage we were a 5-house “family”, without two coins to rub together! of course, by this stage Jochen had changed to Islam (as opposed to just good old homosexuality!) and started to become increasingly ill ( an illness which he regarded as Allah’s curse on his gayness and which he therefore refused to have treated. Therefore enhancing the unnecessary number of aids deaths by one more! He died and was, ironically, buried in Spandau about 3 years ago:

I had never planned a further period of residence in Germany, but with all of these houses around (AND having just completed 3 years ín Australia on 42nd Street)…………

………………….HOW COULD I FORGET!!!!! …………. the wall was just falling, one could not miss that…… so with Helen off to East Berlin we went, to plan a season at the Staatsoper a few kilometers from where I sit at this very minute: This was blighted by problems over the rights, which no one had clarified because no one ever thought the wall would fall!

so when this project crumbled I was in an “embaras de maisons” in Normandie and had rented out the one in which I was actually living, packed all my stuff, dug up everything worth eating from the large garden and loaded the car with garlic and ripe raspberries and unfulfilled kohlrabi AND four sorts of designer potatoes: Blue Congo, rattes du Touquet etc………
because Helen had a project worth returning to London for: a new John Osborne play with Peter o’ Toole.( who just died today– “Déjà Vu” (Never was a title more laden with true foreboding) However the evening before I was due to leave she rang to say that P. the Tool had gone on a bender: with the car packed and nowhere to go, the house rented out I decided to drive to Berlin. it was around 1991/2: I then stayed a few months with Jochen’s sister and her husband in Berlin/Gatow until I was tempted to Hamburg by an advert for trainee English teachers at Berlitz. The dawn of the third career was upon us. At long last I was a school marm, just like my grandmother

……………………for Russian-speakers in business and all fields of activity English was the new MUST! I became an almost permanent feature at the Rostock shipbuilding yard, taking a flat there, also lightening things up by flitting a few times a week to Hamburg also, where I taught mostly film people: A good contrast: welders and film producers. Sooner or later I felt the need to find some more amusing regular gay accommodation.
so, answering an ad, for gay B & B I met Dietmar Siebert and stayed regularly at his place in Stuvkamp for some years, until one day when we were on a trip to London Dietmar suddenly said in 1999 “Why don’t we share a place in Hamburg, then you just reverse your commuting habits commuting from Hamburg TO Rostock! So we two (Thomas arrived a couple of years later) moved into these three small apartments which we converted to a penthouse place with gay B & B

………. and if you don’t believe me you can sill look at the place on http://www.privategayrooms.com

.. or you could last time I looked: my bedroom there is the Queen’s Room, …….stupid question: stupid answer! and I was there until my stroke in September 2011. after that it was my wish and manouvre to move to Berlin: Since London does not offer gay sheltered accommodation as yet, although I know there are plans……………. but for Brighton!

my god, who would want to live there!

you’d be surrounded by a fucking load of queens!

Well this morning I plucked up courage to ask the doctor categorically if I could go home for some hours on Xmas Eve if I arranged the transport myself in both directions and if I came back here in the evening.
Why ever not? she said with the common sense air of people who know that they have been cornered by sheer common sense! Well let’s hope she remembers! (Viktoria said “get it in writing!”……….. like saying to the doctor: thanks but I think you are a fucking liar!)

Well I’ll be seeing her again since she is operating me again tomorrow, to see if she can remove the negative pressure wound therapy appliance. But her assistant just appeared with the consent papers for the skin gráft which they will be carrying out tomorrow……….. So I bet the day of holiday on Xmas Eve will be pretty “iffy” now! (BUT her assistant is a fucking dish………. Didn’t catch his name let alone his phone no.!) hope I will recognise hm under a full anaesthetic!!

But we have plenty of time for all of that I suspect!

Anyway it is now Dec. 21st: They did the skin graft on Friday: no pain at all!

The doctor has just said I can go home on Tues. Wed. And Fri. but I have to return here for the night.
Ok by me, just hope we can find the pople to ferry me!
Then the skin graft will be examined on Friday!

Just had a load of visitors here………with food……… More Mandarins than in the whole of Morocco

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