dpnice - Archived Blog Posts

[dpnice]

You only have to check my age and you will know that I was an Abba fan. My Saturday nights at the gay disco were rhythmed by their music. The first few notes of their latest release were the sign for people to home in on their prey and say those magic words ‘Do you want to dance’. And if the answer was affirmative it usually meant you were okay for the night. Do Abba realise how many casual sexual encounters they were at the origin of?

So having 4 nights to fill with theatre visits I included ‘Mamma Mia’ on my list. Nothing like Abba’s music to get you in a good mood and excuse some extremely bad acting, it was kitsch, camp and certainly over the top but great fun.

Ever since I have been wondering. Does our younger generation raised on rap and adolescent rock groups get a burning desire to dance as soon as they hear the first notes of ‘Dancing Queen’?

 

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When Equus was first produced for the stage in 1973 my interest in the theatre and the arts was not yet developed. Though I followed in the press the scandal accompanying the production the idea of going up to London to see it wasn’t actually something I would have considered. So I was pleased that I could take the opportunity of my London trip to see it this time round.

It is a strong play requiring the audience to pay attention to the lines and understand their meaning whilst at the same time being beguiled by the excellent manner that it is staged. Difficult to keep one’s concentration on the dialogue when one is being marvelled by the costumes and movements of the ‘horses’.

The dialogue is powerful and thus requires a real stage presence to convey its genius and convince the audience of its verity. Unfortunately the understudy who took Richard Griffith’s role for the matinee I attended didn’t have such a presence. So though I enjoyed the play I came away feeling slightly disappointed and a little abused.

As for our ever popular Daniel I was quite impressed with him (yes okay physically just as much as his stage performance). Seeing that he is only 17yrs and that this is his first stage appearance in a London production where the whole play revolves around him he actually did a good job. Now he did have stage presence, yes even when fully dressed. He really did manage to communicate his emotions to the audience even though he never really completely shook off his ‘Harry’ character.

From the sublime to the ridiculous as I had the evening free I took myself off to the cinema to see the new Hugh Grant film ‘Music and Lyrics’. As all his past films it had no real substance nor artistic qualities but as usual managed to cheer one up and look on life’s brighter side. I have the impression that all his films are about the same person to whom similar things happen.

 

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Well I have a cake baking in the oven and a ratatouille simmering on the stove, a quiet evening at home just like the thousands of others that have gone before and will be in the future. At least this one includes a decent evening meal.

My flat is completely floored with tiles except for a rug in front of the settee. Where do you think the cat is sick every time? Sorry about sharing that with you but I am slightly annoyed with him.

So to continue with my trip to London. Having seen ‘The History Boys’ at the cinema and enjoyed it enormously I thought it would be interesting to see the stage version from which the film was taken. Plus, I appreciate gay subplots in my entertainment. I like to see that people know we exist and play a part in the everyday life of society. I don’t need it rubbed in my face (you know what I mean by that don’t you?) but it is gratifying to see it mentioned.

I found the film slightly tragic with a dose of pathos whereas the stage production was absolutely hilarious, the tragedy was there but veiled by an infectious humour that I didn’t experience whilst watching the film.

My last night in London was reserved for an absence of all intellectual stimulus as I just wanted a fun night out similar to the first night. What better than ‘The Little Shop of Horrors’. Taken from a B-movie it is a B-comedy musical, over acted, tacky, amateurish and certainly over the top but really great fun to watch. I had seen it when original produced in London; the carnivorous plant was more human and therefore likeable in that production; his black voice was also deeper and less strident more of a crooner than a screamer.

So four times at the theatre and the Renoir exhibition filled up the few days perfectly; leaving me plenty of time to loose myself at the V&A museum.

 

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Yes another quiet evening at home (beef curry simmering in the kitchen) when I should be organising myself to go out to the cinema. Having worked all day I really don’t have the energy. That is one of the great disadvantages living here on Cap Ferrat; if I want to go into town I have to take the car, find a parking place and not get home again until after midnight with work at 7hr again tomorrow.

I am going to be sorry as I am missing too many good films at the present moment.

I have loaded my photographs, taken whilst in London, onto Flickr so if you are interested follow the link and click on London07. You will see a few of the new sculpture gallery at the V&A Museum. I nipped in every single day I was there, sometimes just for a quick wander through, the others to linger and have a coffee in the spectacular new restaurant.

This museum has always been a second home for me. Even when it was dingy, dusty and one lost oneself constantly looking for something particular I loved visiting it. Of course, getting lost did encourage seeing unusual exhibits and opening the mind up on a different world. Plus the fact that cruising in the public toilet occupied me for many a weekend.

Now with the new gallery, with further renovations to come, I can finally see my favourite sculpture in all its splendour. Before it was tucked in a corner of a deserted corridor and now it has pride of place at the entrance. I don’t think I had ever seen the rear side so I took a photograph, yes I like it even more for the obvious reasons.


http://www.flickr.com/photos/dpnice1/sets/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/dpnice1/sets/

 

[dpnice]

Well I started this blog two years ago and can say that I am pleased it is still going. It is quite an achievement to have actually persisted with it.

When I decided to have a break from JUB I deleted all my original entries. So to celebrate here is the very first entry I made.

As I am new to all this I don’t really know where to start. I am well past my prime and life has settled into a calm routine with no sex and no partner to share the end of my years. Still it is a happy life, contented with my lot and happy to have many memories to recall my youthful days. That is where I think that I will delve to find the subject matter for this blog. I boast that I can remember every man I have ever had sex with; well we will see if this is true. As I am alone in this life I would like something of my life history to remain, or be shared, should something ever happen to me; though I intend living a long time and enjoying the twilight years of my life.

The daily upkeep of a diary has always attracted me, the touch of a bound leather book, virgin white pages and a fountain pen seemed to be pleasures to while away empty afternoons. Now with the computer things are much quicker and I can choose which font I want and correct my spellings! So the artistic aspect of the exercise is not lost. Of course, the problem of starting to expose my life history and share the feelings of a not so successful gay guy is to be able to continue right to the end. So as not to tempt the devil and to be certain of achieving my aims I am going to make and entry once a week, that shouldn’t be too difficult should it!

So it all started when I was six years old and living with my grandparents on a house boat moored alongside a coastal footpath. My first day at school and I meet Barry W.

I even had a comment for it which was encouraging. I wish others would comment, not particularly on my blog but on the others to encourage them to continue.

intersting blog i hope you keep more of them coming. Mine has only been view 1000+ times since started writing it many many months ago--i have a few favorites that seem to read it all the time. I think the more you post and the more u write in you blog the more people will be willing to read.
Posted by finderfinder

 

[dpnice]

After the wonderful weather this past weekend it has suddenly turned bitterly cold. Even too cold to sit out on the terrace to smoke a cigarette. Subsequently I am filling my small apartment with smoke and tobacco odours – something I dislike extremely.

I have neither seen nor talked to a living soul for the past two days. As I have no need to go out shopping tomorrow I doubt whether I will speak to anyone tomorrow either.

My cat likes jumping into the empty bathtub. Unfortunately when he decides to go exploring afterwards he leaves a trail of muddy paw marks all over the white tiles.

When I am on my own and not working in the evening I like a whisky and ginger ale at 18hrs. Never a few minutes before it must be after 18hr. Am I really becoming an absolute recluse/maniac?

Tuesday, 27 December 2005 was the last time I touched another human male in sexual frenzy. He didn’t touch me but who cares I got the release I needed. Now will I ever repeat that kind of event before I pass the age of 60yrs? I doubt it. If only belamy could find me an escort who actually turns me on, it is not that I am picky but I really find all this muscular overdevelopment a turn off.

I am having my haircut on Friday so I hope I remember how to open my mouth and make words come out of it.

Monday I am off to Paris for 5 nights.

I am going to open a tin of food tonight and slump in front of the television.

 

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Never did I think that at 56yrs old I would be cleaning houses. A slight exaggeration I know as it isn’t a house it is a villa and there is only one. Even so it is not the most stimulating, interesting nor the most intellectual of things to be doing at my age.

When madame is absent my friends automatically assume that I have nothing to do and waste my time lazing about here in the sunshine. Even when I adamantly explain all the things I have to do they just laugh and tell me that it isn’t really work and they could do it all in an afternoon.

I can’t tell you how this attitude annoys me (well yes I can as I just did).

My families’ absence is the occasion for the house to be cleaned from cellar to attic and all the rooms in between. It is like spring cleaning with a vengeance but three times a year. Shifting furniture to clean behind and under it, polishing floors and cleaning every single surface both horizontal and vertical.

Then add to that all the silver and brass, the crystal chandeliers, all the glasses which haven’t been used, the windows and shutters (which happen to be yellow due to the quantity of pollen the pines are dispensing at this time of year). I might add that there are also three cars standing in the driveway which are also covered with a thick coating of pollen just waiting for me to find the time to clean them.

As I am off on holiday on Monday there is absolutely no certitude that everything will be done before I leave. Now why does that give me feelings of inadequacy as though I haven’t lifted a finger during their absence?

I just wonder how many of you jubbers even know what a duster is let alone use one. And how many of you live in pristine homes with all the cushions plumped up and everything in its place?

Well now you know the reason why I haven’t spoken to a single soul for the last three days. Thankfully loneliness does not weigh heavily on me and being occupied from morning to late afternoon the time has sped by.

Of course they won’t even notice, when they return, everything that I have done. Makes you wonder if it is all worthwhile.

 

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I had a long conversation with the vet whilst stocking up on animal food for the dogs. Nothing about animals in the conversation just joking chit-chat.

When having my hair cut the conversation consisted of ‘bonjour and au revoir’ (that is normal by the way for someone living in France) rather short I must admit.

I think I offended the girl in the bank when I told her I wasn’t interested in making an appointment to see my new advisor in banking matters.

I said hello (actually, for reasons stated previously, I said bonjour) to the grocer in the market, the lady in the cigarette shop and the librarian that I met walking towards me.

Well there you have the total of my communication efforts in four days with the society surrounding me.

Some one is going to tell me to get of JUB and get a life. But what if I am happy with the one I have? Mind you I do honestly think that if I refrain from all human communication that I am going to forget how to talk.

 

[dpnice]

I am off to Paris in the morning (well in a couple of hours actually - just looked at the time). All packed and slightly organised in what I want to do.

So I won't be around for a week. Keep your fingers crossed for sunny weather for me.

 

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It is now several days since returning from my brief stay in Paris. My radio silence was due to the necessity of throwing myself into a frenzy of house cleaning to ensure that everything was prepared for the return of madame and monsieur.

As has become my habitude on holiday I stayed with the familiar; sleeping in the same hotel, eating in the same restaurants, walking down the same streets and visiting the same museums. When you are on your own this is not as boring as it might seem to you more adventurous guys. It provides a sensation of belonging, one feels secure and comfortable and in repeating incessantly the same itinerary one has the occasion to explore and discover things with a different regard, seeing them with a different eye.

So Paris was perfect, even the rain and cold didn’t succeed in spoiling my enjoyment of being there. I am uncertain why I appreciate being there so much; perhaps at heart I am a city-dweller, revelling in the combination of gardens and architecture. Paris is so symmetrical in its architecture and possibly that appeals to my sense of order and beauty. Plus the fact that it seems impossible to every feel on your own; at every hour of the day the streets are thronging with people and being an old, single homosexual it is a pleasure to be surrounded by hoards of handsome, young men going about their lives unaware of my existence nor of my admiring glances in their direction. I have always considered that if it is acceptable to stand in front of a work of art in a museum admiring its beauty (but forbidden to touch) then why not out in the bustle of life can one not do the same.

I was staying in the centre just a few steps from the Louvre in the middle of streets lined with shops selling antiques and extolling interior decorating. Every day a different route to and from the hotel opened up an opulence of work of craftsmen long dead. The beauty that man is capable of producing has always amazed me, even more so in comparing it with the hatred and ugliness that he can produce with a similar fervour.

It was probably a good idea that I went alone as I don’t think any of my friends could stand my method of visiting museums. A whole day just for the Impressionists, or the same amount of time admiring the renovations at the Louvre, hours spent drinking coffee lost in my thoughts or watching the crowds pass by; all this would seem too excessive to them.

Well my bank accounts are now empty and no more holidays are planned before the summer. All that is left are delightful memories and a small collection of photographs (which you can see by following the link and clicking on Paris07).

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dpnice1/sets/

 

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When does obligation towards the needs of your employer and your willingness to attempt to achieve everything deteriorate into that feeling that your kindness is being taken advantage of?

Last weekend, Easter, I managed to clock up 51 hours during three days. Now the work isn’t difficult, I am not working in a factory nor oppressed by a dirty boring job, in fact I spend all my day surrounded by wealth and luxury with spectacular views. Yet those 17 hours a day were spent cleaning the pool area and organising eating outside on the terrace for the whole family, serving the meals and cleaning up afterwards. Not the most exciting of occupations – still it has to be done so better do it with a smile and enjoy being out in the garden during a beautiful sunny day.

Now the cook has taken a week off due to a death in the family so it would seem normal to me that the family would not be invited this weekend, seeing that I have to assume all the meals during the week as well as assuring that everything is done.

No such chance. Now I am obliged to repeat everything that took me 17 hours to do the last weekend and cook the meal as well. Somehow it seems to me that there is something wrong here; something like that is asking the impossible.

Theoretically I had the day free today but practically it involved planning the meals for the weekend, I have 42 of them to produce between Friday evening and Sunday. This afternoon was spent shopping for all the ingredients and this evening, instead of relaxing having some time to myself, I shall be spending it planning out the cooking programme, listing out everything that will need to be done and making certain that I will be able to get everything done on time.

So where does my personal life fit into this schedule. Obviously it doesn’t. So know you know why this 56yr old guy lives alone, never goes out and only seems to have a social life when he manages to share his holidays with old friends.

Rather than end on a depressing note obviously the fact that I spend my life working and never going out I subsequently don’t have time to spend any of my salary. You should see with what speed my empty bank accounts will fill up once again. My friends say I am the only person they know who saves more than 90% of their monthly income.

 

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I wasn’t certain that I should mention this in my blog but last night I had the weirdest of dreams. It revolved around Madame’s 35yr old son’s penis. Now that, well his arse as well, are the only parts of his body that I haven’t seen seeing that in summer he spends most of the time wandering around the garden in shorts and nothing else.

He is in fact one of the reasons why I accepted this job in the first place, well at my age and with my record of sexual abstinence I have the right to be a bit of a lecherous old fool.

For some strange reason I was climbing up a ladder with him, the son that is, standing below me putting on some skimpy white briefs. To my total disappointment his penis was incredibly small whilst his pubic hair long and in ringlets. For some unknown reason he was obliged to oil the hairs with a lotion and then apply the smallest of gauzes possible over his cock.

Now I have spent the last 10 years lusting discretely over this young man so I am rather annoyed that my first dream about him was so obscure and not in the least sexually exciting.

I am left wondering how on earth to interpret it.

 

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Well it is 23hrs here in the South of France and this tired old guy has just finished work. What a relief that all I have to do is climb down the stairs and I am home, one of the big advantages.

If anyone is wondering why I am not around so much lately this is due to the fact that madame has re-established slavery for domestic help. I need to unwind after a hard day and need to get this of my chest so – this will be boring and of no literary interest so stop reading now unless you are interested in what an overpaid butler living in the lap of luxury has to endure to gain his daily bread.

Saturday went well, though exhausting, and all the family were fed on time and well I might add; would have been nice if madame had popped into the kitchen to see if I was managing all on my own or even thanked me for all my hard work.

Surprisingly Sunday they decided to leave for their chateau in the centre of France; nice surprise as that left me most of the day to clear up after the marauding grandchildren had turned the house and grounds upside down. Knowing that they would be back on Wednesday and that I would just have the two of them for dinner, something simple would be acceptable, I planned the first two days of the week as my time off and a good occasion to spring clean my flat.

That went well by the way, it is pristine clean down to the skirting boards and the insides of cupboards. My emotional stability is closely linked to the conditions in which I live plus being a maniac for pleasant clean surroundings this cleaning spree was more essential than it would be for many of you out there.

Today was planned perfectly. Shopping early for this evening and tomorrow’s lunch; the cook is back for the evening. Then the cars to clean, the pool house to do and the evening meal to prepare which should have left me free in the afternoon to finally relax and take care of myself.

Then the newly, undiscussed with me, slavery conditions kick in. Knowing she has no cook and I am on my own covering for him she goes and invites the grandchildren for the rest of the week and lets me know when she is half way back on the drive from the chateau.

Fine I could have coped, emotionally that is, if I had known before having done the shopping. So my afternoon is spent rushing out to buy the compliment in groceries so there is sufficient for the evening and tomorrow’s lunch.

Now I don’t mind covering an absent colleague and attempting to keep up with my responsibilities at the same time but to invite half the family when I am on my own really got up my nose this time.

Ever had that feeling you are being taken advantage of?

Going on strike is not feasible but working slow is. As from tomorrow someone is not going to be doing everything he should do as he will be in the kitchen cooking and nothing else. Just let monsieur dare ask me why I haven’t yet cleaned the encrusted mosquitoes off from his filthy dirty Mercedes.

 

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This is getting ridiculous.

This weekend was meant to be relatively calm with just the continuation of the grandchildren staying over. The plans were they would leave Sunday afternoon with madame and monsieur driving them home and staying to eat with their daughters. This obviously gave me a nice long evening on my own to unwind, relax and prepare my self for having some free time on Monday and Tuesday.

Well Rodolphe, the handsome, muscular son went fishing this morning and succeeded in catching a 9 kilo fish. Who cares what it was it is big. Now I like the idea of him emerging from the sea with his hair flattened to his skull and his wet suit glistening with drops of sea water. Even more exciting is the idea of catching a glimpse of him peeling the rubber off from his tight little body. But why did he have to go and catch such a whopper? Naturally he is extremely proud. If you could have seen him showing it off to his father, he was just like a little boy.

Now the question is what does one do with such a huge beast. Well naturally you invite all the family over Sunday evening to eat it. So goodbye to my quiet evening, I now will be working until 1hr in the morning, crawling into bed exhausted and waking up extremely early to clear up after the night before.

Something I never understand is how come every one is free to come over at the drop of a hat, or invitation at that? Have they no life of their own? No plans for a quiet evening in on their own? Need to be up early Monday to go to work?

I had thought that at the worst madame would return and we would have two for Sunday evening; but I hadn’t foreseen this eventuality. David is not a happy Maître d’hôtel at present as he will be too exhausted Monday afternoon and evening to take advantage of not working.

NB. Mustn’t let this blog become an outlet for all my petty complaints.

 

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Yesterday was one of those perfect days. No work and no obligations, well apart from being woken up at 7hr because the cook had forgotten his keys and couldn’t get into the villa. There was also the fact that I had to take a pair of madame’s glasses into town to get them repaired. But that instead of being a tiresome task provided a reason to wander into Nice to stroll around, have a coffee somewhere and loose myself in the old town just meandering through the narrow streets.

The weather was also perfect, sunny enough to bring out all the attractive boys (where have they been hiding all winter?). All in all I spent the morning as would the perfect tourist visiting Nice for the first time. With my camera in my hand I strolled round the port, lazed on the terrace of a café reading the local paper and admiring the boys. Leaving the teeming crowds in the local market I explored the parts of the old town that I hadn’t visited for many a year, taking photographs of everything that took my fancy. http://www.flickr.com/photos/dpnice1/sets/

Home for a bite to eat (I am saving hard for the summer so no restaurants for a while). Made pasta with mint, sage and rosemary, all picked from the garden; found a lettuce still decent enough to eat so added that to my meal. Finished up with a well deserved nap, which I must say is becoming more of an essential part of my daily routine. Must be age.

Today things seem to have returned to normal. The patrons were absent for lunch so things were calm. I had a long afternoon break and the evening meal finished early, early enough for me to make a cake which is now baking in the oven.

Tomorrow seems likely to follow the same pattern as they are both absent for lunch once again (this is a rare occurrence I might add).

Life has suddenly become as I adore it – the nights are mild allowing me to sit on the terrace at the end of the day. The sea is so still that the reflections of the lights across the bay are forming vertical ribbons of red and orange. It really is quite breath taking.

As mundane as my life is I must honestly say I find it, at times, so relaxing and the beauty surrounding me just makes my heart well up with gratitude and pleasure. I wish I could share it with some off you going through difficult times. It might just give you all a different perspective on what is important in life.

 

[dpnice]

Well even the drizzling rain this morning hasn’t dampened my good spirits.

The cake I made last night has been eaten; between my gluttony, that of the chamber maid and a few slices for madame’s breakfast it doesn’t go far.

Subsequently I have made another one, a banana and walnut one this time. A new recipe that I haven’t tried before.

Doesn’t the excitement in my life just drive you into a jealous frenzy.

 

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I must admit that I am not exactly enamoured of the fact that the blogs here on JUB have become an annexe for YouTube. But just to show that I also have managed to master the method for posting a video I am applying the “if you can’t beat them, join them” attitude.

This guy is last year’s winner of “Nouvelle Star” (probably “Pop Idol” to most of you) and he proved to be a real success, at least I was bowled over by his rendition of most of the classics he sang. I have just bought his CD, gold disc in one week, and have been playing it constantly for two days.

Why chose this song? Well I think some people on JUB need to be introduced to it and the meaning behind the lyrics and some of our older members need to be reminded of it.

 

[dpnice]

It is one of those days completely influenced by the abysmal weather conditions. A thick mist combined with low cloud has succeeded in obscuring the coastline across the bay and the rain has been continuous since I opened my eyes this morning. It is a rare occurrence to have an entire day where it rains here in the South of France especially when I am off work for the day; which in itself is also a rare occurrence.

Subsequent to these adverse weather conditions I am staying at home all day and probably slouching around doing absolutely nothing. At least I have showered and dressed, completely unnecessary as I will see no-one today but we do have to keep up appearances, certain standards must be kept.

I will probably spend the day mulling over my mundane and uninteresting life wondering how to go about changing it only to come to the conclusion this evening that the effort is not worth it as I am quite content with it the way it is.

The cat is obviously of the same opinion as he is curled up on the settee and hasn’t moved since this morning. I am wondering if I should do the same and just crawl back into bed and let my dreams take over the day. But then I shall feel so guilty about having wasted a rare day free from all obligations. Of course, staying out of bed will not produce a result much different but at least I won’t have to deal with the guilt factor.

So much to do and little or no desire to do it. The coffee cups are already building up in quantity covering my table on the terrace and the finished cigarettes filling up the ashtrays.

I am amazed that the torrential rain hasn’t altered my mood. Shouldn’t one be extremely depressed when the day is dismal and grey? In fact I am reasonably light hearted, pleased not to have anything to do yet slightly concerned that I find that so enjoyable, attractive even. Life is passing me by and I actually couldn’t care less about it, all that seems desirable is settling down on the terrace, smoking and watching the teeming rain.

Obviously life around me has no influence what so ever over me and I am beginning to be aware that I have no influence on what happens around me. Am I finally becoming so detached from life, apart from the basic routine, that one day I will just begin to fade and disappear?

 

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The sun has finally put in an appearance and along with it one of the first cruise liners of the season. We haven’t seen the last of the rain but now that it has done its job of watering the garden thoroughly I see no reason why it should stick around.

The cruise liners add a theatrical touch to the view from my terrace, especially when I have three of the monsters moored in the bay. There is a slight annoyance and that is their tanoy system blaring out the same instructions in five different languages. Do they not realise that sound carries over water? They also have the bad habit of sounding their siren when pulling up anchor to sail to some other exotic location. This is fine with me except that the majority of them leave in the middle of the night.

Madame didn’t put in an appearance yesterday evening, which was a pleasant surprise; she was retained with architects in Corsica and is returning this evening instead. So I had my time off work increased by a few hours which is always appreciated. Took advantage of it as well; the flat is now clean and tidy, washing and ironing done and a large bouquet of arum lilies arranged in the dining room.

I am left with my shoes to clean and the terrace to sweep before changing for work and climbing upstairs to prepare for this evening’s meal.

I really wonder sometimes if other people spend the majority of their days, as I do, just completing boring chores between going to work and going to bed. Surely I am not the only person in the world who lives such a boring life or am I? Oh well if I am at least that makes me unique and therefore sort of special.