I'm wondering if I'm a hopeless romantic to hope that every weekend in the future will be more-or-less like the one just gone. Or the last few, in fact. C & I have spent the last few weekends (with the exception of the one Sunday where we went to visit my 'rents) having the most fabulously idle time, and a couple of times we've joked about what our weekends might be like if we had to ferry a couple of kids to football practice or somesuch. An absolute nightmare. As we were mooching slowly home on Sunday afternoon, after a bit of window shopping on the King's Road, C remarked that he's so glad that he doesn't have to spend every weekend visiting relatives, which is what he found himself doing when he was (actively) married.

Beyond Vanilla at the London Lesbian & Gay Film Festival on Friday evening was quite interesting. Not a great film, but they interviewed some fascinating people, including Nina Hartley, Lady Green (a.k.a Janet Hardy, one of the authors of a couple of BDSM and poly books I have), and a female-to-male transsexual called Gage, who demonstrated exactly what testosterone cream does to a clitoris. Blimey.

I'm slavering over the LLGFF t-shirts now. I tried to buy one after the film, but the sales desk was closed. I badly want one to wear to work, for 'shock value'. The guys here have an almost universal visceral "Eeew! Gross! Get that shit away from me!" reaction to anything gay, so a LLGFF t-shirt will be perfect workwear. I'm going to try and get to the National Film Theatre one evening after work to buy one...

Talking of things gay, we finally got round to watching that gay porn last night. "CHLOPCY FANTOMOWCY" was dreadful - badly filmed, boring, depressing even. I watched most of it on fast forward (which has its own entertainment value). "Polish Steele" was a bit better. I'm not into muscle guys, though, so not much of a turn-on. It seems that muscle-guy sex is like a cross between wrestling and fucking, which is quite amusing. Plus I like the way gay porn doesn't bother with long, boring scene set-ups. It's all "Hi, you're cute, let's fuck!". Much rimming ensues.

So, rewind a bit to Saturday. Saturday mornings are a strict routine in my house - no-one goes anywhere or does anything until Spongebob Squarepants has finished. Laugh if you will - I think Spongebob is genius. Afterwards C went up to Clapham Junction to get fitted for contact lenses, and I met him afterwards for coffee. He didn't get his lenses on the day, though - it seems he needs special-order Toric lenses rather 'standard' ones. So no eye makeup for him yet...

After that we went over to his flat to do some washing (he's still not 100% moved out of his old place yet, and his washing machine is there until we hire a man&van to move it). While that was doing, we decided to take advantage of the ridiculously clement weather and go to the pub and sit on the terrace. 2 pints + hot sun + not much food meant we were quite tipsy by the time we got back to his flat, which led to an impromptu frenetic fuck on the kitchen counter during the final rinse.

Now you see, who the hell would want to swap that for driving the kids to piano lessons? ;-)

Sunday was the usual moochfest, not leaving the house until after As If (individually, we're not so big on TV; together, we're terrible). A little window shopping in Chelsea, another overpriced latte session in Caffe Nero; then the Grand Prix, which was absolute carnage and too baffling to comment on. Then gay porn. C spent the Grand Prix and the gay porn knotting me a friendship bracelet - you know, the sort kids make from embroidery silks. It's red, purple and green and has a chevron design. He's waaaay more crafty than I am. It's cute :-)

KT emailed me earlier to say that she and her boyf went to Sh! on Saturday, where they bought a harness and dildo. On Saturday evening she relieved him of that particular cherry. I'd say I was a bad influence if I'd ever actually suggested it to her. Personally I reckon fucking one's bloke is a fantasy shared by more girls than would dare admit it... ;-)