Iestyn Edwards is...what?

 Bump into Ad. He has long hair these days and mutton chops. He looks beautiful. He's still juggling with cigar boxes but his teaching of Pilates hasn't gone well so far. He felt he wasn't ready even to cover classes but was then disappointed to have only two pupils in them. When he tried Pay What You Can nobody at all came. He's still in the housing cooperative, which he really shouldn't be - paying very little for a four bedroom place on his own. His children moved out more than a decade ago. Jane has moved in. Flixy's Marty lives in the same cooperative. There is so much crap hoarded under his bed its legs dangle above the carpet. He shares with someone Flixy insists is 'strange'. Marty's strange, Flixy. Ad told me about some of the Wunderlich acts from the last couple of years, involving masturbation with Henry hoovers. I say, 'This is just what spit and sawdust variety should be!' not sure that I believe myself.  I hear someone next door...

I switch on the lamp in the sitting room. It doesn't work. When I finally palm aside the two cushions, blankets and a plump black silk bag, I find the lamp's lead has gone to ground with four or more dust-buried refugees from the Innovations Catalogue. I leave it be.  There are two large and near to death rubber plants on the small kitchen window sill. Squeezed beside them is a box of broken plant pots - one containing a dried up bulb - shells, a brass tankard, a mug with its broken off handle within, wooden stakes, canes, disintegrating rope, etc. As I rummage through these items I wonder what abandoned interest of Flixy's they might betoken.  The ice-cream parlour sign above the sink is filthy, cracked, with a rust-rash. The painting of the young Queen Elizabeth the Second looks washed out, the frame grimy. The cobwebs above Flixy's food cupboard are the colour of burnt garlic.  Washing up their supper things Marty, Flixy's boyfriend - who is so effete he makes me...

 Flixy (disregarding my advice at the time) told Trombone Tracey not to pay her last month's rent, she would use the deposit for it. As an avid watcher of Judge Judy and The People's Court I warned her not to. The room as I find it is a collection of non-compensated dilapidations. Ruined paintwork, scuff marks, gouges, nails, blue-tac, oily/sticky patches, water damage, sun warping - and is filthy. But Flixy being Flixy insists, 'I've made you up a lovely bed, with my nice cushions.' Orange bedding is not lovely.  'I told Trombone Tracey to be careful of my nice cushions when she painted the curved bit of wall in her room,' Flixy tells me. 'I stood them upright to give your fold-me-out sofa bed a bit of a comfortable look - isn't it? - and saw there was flaked sky blue on them.' I try and lower my breathing.  Trying yet again to self-diagnose I read how certain strands of Autism are affected by the increased blurring of seasons, added to the alre...

 Up at five to clean. My upper knuckle wound still weeps. Apple peeler stigmata.  #diary #memoir #lgbtqia #gay #funny #humour #brighton