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6:34 p.m. - 2008-12-16
Beautiful Hiatus


We put our Christmas trees up on Sunday. I stuck with tradition and chose a fresh tree which I decorated with my usual disregard for �a harmonising theme.� Twinkles, with a little help from Jason decided to opt for a modern artificial �designer� tree. I wasn�t too pleased with him to be honest. The wretched �designer� thing cost a fortune and so did the decorations he bought to go on it. It�s bright shiny purple and almost six feet tall. He�s decorated it with white glass birds that have long feather tails and which clip onto the branches. The fairy lights are pure drag queen, comprising of big pink hearts that have feather boa like trimmings. The fairy on the top has lavish fibre optic wings that change through a range of colours from white to mauve. The whole ensemble is oddly disturbing and yet compelling. I feel drawn to stare at it, but try to resist in case I get sucked into some kind of strange hallucinogenic universe that I won�t be able to escape from. Twinks and Jason were cheekily mocking of my unimaginative �old fashioned� tree, but I don�t care. I like my tree, so there. Actually, when Twinkles went out on Sunday night, Jason chose to sit in the living room with me to do his homework rather than sit in the dining room with the purple peril. He said my tree was restful and made the living room smell nice and Christmassy.

Twinkles has more or less got over his birthday and forgiven Lulu for being insensitive enough to send him a card that stated his age in cold blood. Birthdays are always a sensitive area for him and I knew that this year would be even more difficult on several counts, one being the milestone of leaving his twenties behind and the other being his origins. His birthday always opens the wound of family rejection. The flame of hope sparked by his sister getting in touch with him last year was extinguished when she stopped all communication with him, after he said he couldn�t lend her any more money. She wanted to borrow almost �600 to pay off a store card debt. It was unbelievable. She still hadn�t paid back the money she�d borrowed to go on holiday and there she was asking for more. I wouldn�t allow him to lend her it. I�d set a limit of fifty and that was that. He told her he couldn�t afford to lend her the money and she then had the audacity to suggest that he �borrow� the money from work i.e. that he slip her a couple of items of stock that no one would miss and she could then sell on to raise the money. Twinkles was horrified and said he could never steal from a company that had employed him since he was seventeen, and anyway the items would be picked up on the yearly audit. She then suggested that he sell the watch that his father had left him, as apparently it belonged by rights to their mother and he shouldn�t have been given it, as he wasn�t a real part of the family. Twinkles was cut to the quick and said that his father had owned it and had had the right to bequeath it where he wished and he would never part with it. I was proud of him. He hasn�t heard from her since. Obviously he didn�t live up to her expectations as a handy piggy bank to dip into. He was upset at first and also inclined to be angry with me, but I know in some ways he was also relieved. He was never really comfortable with her and any contact inevitably left him feeling low. It just wasn�t what he hoped for. It was very sad and I think the whole thing contributed to the bout of depression he had in the summer. I don�t say this lightly or with ease, but I hate that woman and I�ll be happy if she never comes within a million miles of him ever again. She ate away at his self-confidence with spiteful unnecessary little remarks. She enjoyed making him bleed, because that�s the way she�d been taught to treat her �pariah� brother.

The thought of getting older also contributed to his depression. He got in such a state over it. He talked about cosmetic surgery, botox and all manner of silly unnecessary procedures designed to defeat aging. I kept telling him that I�d love him no matter what age he was, but it didn�t make any difference. He doesn�t like getting older, it frigging stinks. I wouldn�t mind, but he really doesn�t look his age, not that he�s old anyway. He was just turned twenty when I first met him and he�s still as boyishly pretty now as he was then. I love him so much and I really have no idea why. He�s the opposite of everything I ever wanted in a man and the lifestyle I live because of him is diametrically opposed to the one I imagined I�d have, but I�m happy. Every morning I wake up and I look at him and I�m really happy and content. The happiness and contentment often turns to annoyance and irritation throughout the course of any given day, but it always morphs back into its true state. He completes me. The stay at the caravan was a good move. It got us away from all distractions and diluted the potency of the dreaded day. It also gave us some much-needed time together as a couple. We enjoyed it and for once he didn�t complain about the lack of shops and nightlife. It was a beautiful hiatus.

I�ve had my wrist slapped by a reader for not elaborating on the chip shop business that I mentioned in November, so apologies for that. This is what happened. Despite feeling grotty because of my cold I still went to pick him up from work on that Saturday evening. I could tell as soon as I walked in the shop that he�d had a bad day. He barely mustered a smile. As it turned out he�d had a big row with Pat. Don had severely reprimanded him saying that as assistant manager it was his job to help smooth staff relations not aggravate them by arguing, and certainly not on the shop floor in front of customers. It was a fair point to my mind. I think it is bad form for staff to argue in front of customers. I gently said so, reminding him that he was a senior member of staff and should set a good example. Twinks took the huff and chose to view my view as being pro Pat and anti him. He said I had no idea what he had to put up with from that viper-tongued bitch. I said I did know, because he told me in detail just about every evening. It was a silent drive home after that. I didn�t feel like cooking and I knew he wouldn�t, not after the day he�d had, so I decided to pick up some fish and chips and duly parked the car outside The Silver Cod, our local chippy. I asked him what he wanted and because he was still in a huff he said he�d get his own dinner, thank you very much, because I always got palmed off with tail end of cod and he didn�t like it. I didn�t argue with him. I was tired and fed up and if he wanted to get his own fish and chips he was welcome.

Alas, the friendly girl who usually does the teatime shift in the shop had been replaced with the yob who usually does the lunchtime shift. He�s a surly individual whose vocabulary is totally devoid of such words as please and thank you. Twinkles reckons that we always get served smaller portions from this lad because we�re gay and he doesn�t like us. I�m not sure about that, I think he�s just generally bad mannered. Anyway, there were a few customers in front of us, one of whom was a teenage girl with a tight fitting top. The fish shop yob�s surly visage lightened as his eyes came to rest upon her top and he treated it to a smile and a few words of what he imagined was witty repartee, to which she simperingly responded. He also treated her to a remarkably generous serving of chips in her buttered bun. Twinkles was next up to be served and the fish shop yob�s face settled back into its customary sullenness, as he took his order for fish and chips. Twinks stated his preference for middle portion of cod and was snappily told that only tail end was available, so he pulled a face and said in that case he�d just have chips.

The lad scooped up the chips, wrapped them, took payment and slapped Twinkles� change onto the counter rather than place it in his hand. He then banged the wrapped pack of chips onto the counter. Twinkles picked it up and I knew from his face that he was going to cause trouble. He asked the lad if there was actually anything in the paper as it felt as light as a feather? The lad drawled an unpleasant �yeah� with a look on his face that clearly said he thought Twinks was an idiot. Twinks quickly unwrapped the parcel and then thrust it under my nose demanding that I note how small a portion he�d been given in comparison to the previous customer. I must admit it was a meagre portion, not enough to make a good sandwich never mind fill a large bun. Twinks demanded that the portion be topped up, but the lad sneered a refusal. Twinks lost his rag and said he obviously needed the frigging chips more than he did so he could have them, and promptly threw them at him. The lad, obviously taken aback, called him a mental poofter. Twinkles called him a miserable maggot, yanked the top off the saltcellar and showered him with the contents. I swiftly stopped him following salt with vinegar. We were then asked to leave by the manageress before the police were called.

I was so embarrassed and so very cross. Twinkles behaviour was wholly inappropriate. Yes, the lad is a rude lout and whoever gave him a job front of shop wants their head examining. Yes, I think he did short change Twinks when it came to the size of the portion, but there are ways and means of making a complaint that don�t involve chucking chips and condiments about. Twinks was in a bad mood and he�d been looking for an opportunity to vent his spleen and that fool in the fish shop presented it on a plate, or at least on a polystyrene tray that he then covered with a few chips and wrapped in paper. When we got home I sat down and had a good chat with my bad man regarding self-control and appropriate modes of conducting oneself in public. He didn�t like it, especially as he was over my knee getting his backside smacked at the time. I put the PP off limits that night as well saying I considered it my duty to protect the public from someone who chucked stuff around when the mood took him. He had a good sulk over it, but later admitted he�d been well out of order.

Twinks and Lulu are over at Frank�s house this evening. They�re giving him a hand with his Christmas lights. He�s concentrating on a Nativity theme this year in honour of the birth of his �lovely new bairn.� He�s besotted with her. I love hearing him talk to her and watching the look on his face when she smiles at him. It reminds me of my dad and the way he looks when little Janet runs up to him and he swings her up into his arms and hugs her. I know it�s silly, but sometimes I feel almost jealous and a bit tearful because I actually remember being swung up into his arms like that for a hug and I remember how safe and happy I felt. Maybe what I feel isn�t really jealousy, but rather a mild sense of bereavement for the little boy I once was and can never be again. Time moves on and can never be reclaimed, so live each day with joy and relish every moment of laughter that you share with the people you love.


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