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Move Back to Brighton 3

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 look like the third Tate brother - didn't keep the frying pan separate. All the crockery is slick to the touch. And not put away; all ten plates, six bowls and so on are in the wooden slats above the sink. I rewash everything twice before realising the scouring pads are also oil-slicked. I will need to buy a lemon and some bi-carb and use boiling water. 

Flixy, on a 'so desperately needed' holiday (from what?) in Nice leaves me a voice note: 'Can you please buy some bin bags?' I've just got here?! 'Trombone Tracey bought the wrong size ones. Also, I've found you a lovely lobster design dish and put it up on the bathroom sink as I notice you use a hard soap, whereas I use liquid soap. What you'll be able to do is keep the soap on the dish and carry it around the bathroom wherever you wish it to be. Tee-hee.' 

I rehearse various forbearing replies - 'Cunt!' not being one of those, obviously - then decide instead to ignore her. 



#diary #memoir #lgbtqia #gay #funny #humour #brightonandhove 


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