I've started my Christmas shopping. I didn't really mean to, and had managed to leave it until two months later than previous years, but it had to happen eventually! So it's time to dust down my trusty Christmas spreadsheet which tells me that already I've done 14% - well done me!

I had lunch with the 24 year old in a Thai restaurant, a buffet type affair, great food although I managed a disappointingly small amount. Then we pottered round the shops and he bought decorations for a Christmas tree, and his excitement was infectious: I want a tree!

Then back to mine for a snog, because although he's lovely to spend time with I also find it very hard to keep my hands off him! But I'm treading carefully, I don't want to turn his head and cause any fuss. It was a fun day!

Oh and I bought some Christmas cards. I'd been toying with the idea of making some but inspiration eluded me, then I saw the prefect thing - bravo!

Happy Halloween!

My head is spinning, and by some strange logic I decided that a bottle of red wine would be the best way to cure it. So far it isn't helping!

Why is it spinning? Well, I decided I'd have an evening of online shopping: Christmas gifts for my sister's kids and tickets to a few things for me. But after spending two hours trying to find the perfect telescope and the perfect metal detector I could barely even say my own name!

That was a stupid moment to try out some new DVD burning software, but it all seemed to go well until the computer started spitting out blank disks for no good reason. I shouted at it but that didn't help. Bugger.

Gig night

Last night was gig night, although I'd had a rather trying day at work and didn't feel like going and standing in a crowd on my own. Plus it was cold and the effort seemed a bit much, but I gave myself a good talking to and went, and I'm please I did.

It was a rather special evening - Paul Heaton, who used to be in The Housemartins and The Beautiful South, was doing his first solo tour, and as a bonus he had the lovely Cerys Matthews playing before him - two people I like for the price of one: it's credit crunch gigging!

Cerys Matthews is just fabulous! I've seen her a few times now, twice with her old band Catatonia and three times solo - every time she's a complete joy! This time I was slightly worried as it's the first time she's toured since she did I'm a Celebrity get me out of here and ended up having an affair with some awful actor from Eastenders, but there was no need to panic!

She has one of those voices that can just sing anything, she's a proper singer so she sounded just as great doing her own stuff or an Irish folk song or Elvis's Love me Tender. She has a big smile, great hair and is really sweet - I found myself having slightly bizarre, "if I was straight I'd really fancy you" thoughts about her. And of course she's Welsh, which is an added bonus because in this house Welsh is the new black. Here's her singing a song about wine:



Paul Heaton suffered slightly because of the sound: it was too loud for a small venue, and somehow it made him sound like Donald Duck when he went for the high notes! Which is a pity as he's got some interesting songs and he writes great lyrics. I've felt slightly deaf all day from the noise!

Birthday Party

Today was my niece's sixth birthday, so I left work early and went over to take her gifts, eat party food, play with the dog and check out the progress of my sister's building work. Finally they've got something resembling a house! It's very impressive and she's very excited, although of course you can rely on Mum to say the wrong thing: "it looks a bit small..." Well done Mum!

Tears before teabreak

I quite often feel like crying at work. That or like shooting someone. So the urge to cry this morning was nothing new, but surprisingly it wasn't about work: a colleague sailed in and after saying "good morning" asked if I'd heard that David Tennant was leaving Dr Who. My lower lip wobbled and I managed to hold it together and whisper, "no" before heading straight to the internet to make sure he wasn't just making it up to torture me. And it's true! Of course we all knew it was coming, but denial is a wonderful thing!

Much of the rest of the day was spent discussing possible alternatives, and in a moments madness a collegue suggested Barrack Obama, should he fail to win the forthcoming election, which is too fabulous an idea!

I've just spent an hour dancing to Michael Jackson! No, it wasn't some sad 80s night, it was tap! With only three of us in the class she decided to abandon the exam work and make up her own stuff. And with Halloween round the corner we ended up doing zombie dances to Michael Jackson songs, to Thriller obviously but unexpectedly to Billie Jean, during which she actually got us to moonwalk!

I think the last time I danced to a Michael Jackson song was at primary school when Trudy Cadman taught me a dance to Blame it on the Boogie in the playground. From what I remember it was quite a literal interpretation, involving hands in the shape of the sun for the line about sunshine and a funny little bum shaking bit for the line about boogie. Surely no one witnessing that spectacle can have been surprised when I grew up gay!

Last night I went to Cambridge to see Martha Wainwright, who could easily become my favourite Wainwright if Rufus doesn't get his act together and dazzle me! I was surprised to find it was a seated show, and more surprised to find my seat was in the second row directly in front of Martha. It was a mixed blessing as she was wearing a very short skirt and has a habit of lifting her knee up when she's really rocking, so I spent a lot of the time praying she wouldn't flash her underwear at me. On the plus side it did mean that I got a good look at her gorgeous shoes, which were covered in small pieces of mirror and had mirror heels.

It's the third time I've seen her since the summer, so the set wasn't really a surprise: most of the new album, selected old songs, a couple of covers, and a b-side I'd not heard her do before. But this time she had a bigger band, including two cousins and her mother. Her mother is Kate McGarrigle (of Kate & Anna McGarrigle fame) and although I've found her stuff hard to get into I appreciate in certain circles she's something of a legend. It's just nice to listen to them bantering on stage.

Before I went to Cambridge I had a gentleman caller. I'd been in two minds whether to or not as he looked a bit fearsome: mohican, piercings, lots of tattoos. Yes I know you shouldn't judge people by these things, but actually this kind of stuff is a really good way of signifying to other people what you're into. It kind of says, "I want to tie you to a chair and put my cigarette out on you", which is not something I have any interest in. But he assured me this wasn't the case, and he was right!

He's a travelling salesman, so I was thinking something butch, possibly electrical, but no! He sells hair extensions and make up to local salons! I laughed out loud when he told me, and luckily he appreciated the irony of it! And he didn't put his cigarette out on me or tie me to anything, but he was a great snog! He's short and thin, my second thin man in a row, it must be a phase I'm going through!

I'm awake stupidly early thanks to that putting the clocks back nonsense, so let's catch up with some random stuff from the weekend.

Music

On Friday night I went to a classical concert. This was a bit of a departure for me as I don't really 'do' classical music. Not because I don't like it, but because I don't know anything about it and am slightly intimidated by its reputation. But that's just stupid, I'm a grown man, there's no need to be afraid of a few violins, so I booked cheap seats for a series of concerts in Norwich, and thought I'd see how it went.

The first one was interesting but not altogether successful. It was performed by the Britten Sinfonia, who I know nothing about, and it was a mixed evening with a theme of Night Music, although I think you needed to know more about classical music than I do to actually get that.

It got off to a good start with Stravinsky's "Fanfare for a New Theatre", a short (one minute long) piece for trumpet and horn, which sounded spiky and modern, and reminded me of Michael Nyman (the only remotely classical thing I know).

The next two pieces: Harrison Birtwistle's "Prologue" and Britten's "Lachrymae" don't really come back to me right now. I remember moments where the violins all worked together that seemed incredibly beautiful, but obviously it wasn't memorable!

The last piece in the first half was Handel's "Thus when the sun" and "Total Eclipse", which were sung by a tenor, and that's where things went off the rails slightly. I just didn't like his voice! When I concentrated on the music it was lovely, but when he got in the way it was annoying.

The second half began with John Woolrich's "Ulysses Awakes", which doesn't come back to me at all, then the tenor returned for Britten's "Nocturne". This is a series of poems set to music, but sung instead of read. I wonder if I just don't like the style of singing rather than the singer? I'm used to pop voices which don't necessarily hit the right notes or pronounce things clearly, whereas the tenor seemed to do the opposite.

The audience seemed to love it, and people even shouted, "bravo!" which made me smile. I enjoyed hearing the instruments, I think I just need to work out what I want to hear them play. I'm going back again in December for a second attempt, wish me luck!

Men

I spent yesterday afternoon with the 24 year old, because it's him I've been daydreaming about having an affair with. The daydream may seem glamorous and intriguing, but the reality is somewhat different! I went round to the house he shares with his boyfriend and a female flatmate, and he was so paranoid about someone coming back and catching us 'at it' that all he'd do was chat and make tea. Turns out his fears were justified, as the flatmate came back with a friend of hers and a small child. I'm too old to be caught with my pants down, so I've gone off the idea now. And anyway, it turns out he doesn't like my gorgeous Camper shoes, so the wedding's off!

Girls

How many of Girls Aloud can you name?

I got three plus "the ginger one" and don't think that's good enough! They're back with a new album, and the lovely Pet Shop Boys have written a song for it, so they're obviously not going to go away and need to be taken seriously. I feel quite ashamed of myself that I have such a gap in my popular culture!

The ginger one is called Nicola apparently, and the other one that I can't even picture is called Kimberley. The new single isn't great though. Thank goodness there are 24 year olds to give me this kind of information! It does make me feel dreadfully old though....

Last night/this morning we did that funny thing with the clocks. Don't ask me what because despite the fact that I'm nearly 40 I still can't work it out! People have been saying, "spring forward, fall backwards" to me all week, in that slow, loud way they normally save for stupid people or foreigners. And yet I'm still none the wiser. Summer is now officially over, although when I woke up at what was once 5am it was still dark so who could tell! The next week will involve way too many conversations beginning, "isn't it getting dark early!"

I really messed up my plans for this weekend. Deep down I'd been hoping the decorator would come on Monday and I'd need to spend the weekend sorting out the house for him, but as the week went on the penny began to drop and I started to plan small things I could do which would still leave me enough time to sort out the house as well. But eventually I'd planned too much, and it was all a bit of a muddle, which means I'm not going to get to see Dirk today, who is in London stalking Heather Small, which is a real shame as it would have been fun.

So yesterday I bought a new mattress. The one I have is more than ten years old and is therefore in need of a change. Redoing the bedroom was the ideal prompt to sort it out, so I spent ages yesterday jumping from one mattress to the next trying to notice any difference. Amazingly you can quite easily, and you soon begin to notice very subtle differences. I opted for a memory foam one, because apparently they're the thing to have, although it will mean I'll have to part with my electric blanket, which will be something of a wrench.

The man selling them was a lovely little gay man, and I'd have asked him to jump onto a bed with me but foolishly I'd taken my mother with me! How did I know he was gay? The tank top gave it away! Have you ever seen a straight man wear a tank top? I think not. Mum used to knit me tank tops when I was a child, no wonder I grew up gay!

I spent the afternoon sorting through a box of old photos, for reasons that will become clear another time. These things are a bit of a minefield now so many people in the pictures are dead, but actually although I spent a lot of the time wanting to cry it was actually a really positive experience. There are so many pictures of Dad with the grandchildren, big smiles on everyone's faces, that it made me realise how happy his last few years were, despite his poor health. And the photos of him and Mum when they first got together are lovely too, they make a great couple and life must have been so good with their two small children before Dad's life was changed by arthritis. The pictures of my sister with her kids are lovely too, she looks so relaxed and at ease. And as for me, well I've always thought of myself as fat, and yet I kept turning up picture after picture where I look great! It's funny how different things seem from what they really are. You can see more pictures here.