Number One.

I'm digging Heroes.

It's a classy little series that premiered stateside recently and is well written and produced.

It's about a bunch of people - normal joe schmo's like you and I - who discover they have a super power.

But this ain't the X-Men and there is no Xavier School for the gifted. They don't put on capes and try to save the world, it's about them coming to terms with these powers.

For instance, one is a cheerleader who is completely indestructable. She tries everything to see just how unbreakable she is. She throws herself off a building, enters a burning factory..she's kinda like a young beutiful Highlander without the Queen soundtrack.

Another guy can read minds, one can paint the future, two can fly and the Japanese guy can teleport and in the first episode transports himself five weeks into the future where he witnesses the destruction of New York by nuke, so when he teleports back his mission is to prevent it.

It's kinda cool.

Number Two.

The Richard Donner cut of Superman 2.

I gotta go buy this.

Y'see, the first two Superman films were shot together by director Richard Donner but after the release of Superman the movie he never had the chance to finish S2 as he had a very bad relationship with the producers - the Salkinds.

So the film was finished by Richard Lester.

But now, 26 years later, Donner has done his thing and the film is re-released with stuff we haven't seen before and it is closer to his vision of how the movie should have been.

And anyway, Christopher Reeve will always be the definitive Superman. Routh was okay, did a good enough job but Reeve just inhabits that role, he fills costume and has the right amount of nobility and vulnerbility that the character demands.

I was truly sad when he died.

I had really lost one of my childhood heroes.

Number Three.

The season two boxset of Dr Who with the cyber mask cover.

Sooo cool.

'G' bought it for my birthday and I love him for it.

Number Four

South Park season ten....laugh your ass off.

Number Five

Spiderman 3
300
Pan's Labrynth.

Cool trailers for equally cool movies.

Number Six

Midnighter..Gen.13....The Authority....Tron...Shadowpact...The Eternals...

Just a couple of the monthly titles I'm enjoying at the moment.

Interlude over.

Normal service has been resumed.

I'm writing this in Rome.

G and I have had a great time exploring the city.

But thats a whole other blog.

What I am finding really cool right now is that I'm blogging from my hotel room .

Big fucking deal I hear you say.

Well, smartass I don't have any laptop or Pc.

I'm using the web browser on my N91.

How frickin' cool.

I love the 21st century.

Tomorrow I notch up another year of life on the Earth.

37.

Thirty fucking seven.

I thnk I may have mentioned before that turning thirty was no issue at all, sailed through it on a breeze.

I can't even remember how I celebrated it.

I was probably drunk though, somewhere in Ireland.

Turning thirty five on the other hand, was a major trauma.

I really went through 'mid life' thing of what have I achieved, where am I at etc.

That was when I bought the house.

And all that bullshit.

And again, turning 37 is no issue.

Even turning forty won't be an issue, I kinda like getting older.

So how will I be spending my thirty seventh birthday?

Thank you for asking Binky, I'll happily tell you!

'G' has organised a weekend away.

Away in Rome.

You heard right, ROME!!

Haven't been before but am very excited to be going and more excited to be going with him and sharing the experience it with the guy I am nuts about.

Since I met him my life has changed in so many ways and all for the better.

I feel loved and am able to show my love for somebody else.

I could be really cheesy and end this entry by saying ''that that is the best gift of all''.

But I wouldn't be that chessey.

Oh, wait...I just did.

Oh well.....

The London Guy had a birthday dinner last night, it was his thirtieth.

And I was invited.

And I had a great time.

A year ago -as long time readers will know - we hated each other.

I hated his management style and he hated me for hating his management style.

We clashed on a lot of issues and agreed on none.

Which was kind of sad as we go back a long way.

I was a Reception Manager when he was first enployed as a Guest Service Manager in Covent Garden in London.

But then the world turned and we started to agree and then we started to have lunch together and slowly, very slowly the ice caps melted.

And last night we celebrated his Birthday.

That's how far we've come.

Not bad.

So there is this one guy who has always had the ability to scare me.

Not scare in the Shaggy and Scoobie sense, but scare me in the oh-my-god-I-respect-you-so-much kinda sense.

We'll call him DT.

He's a middle aged balding scottish guy. He comes across as being quiet and ill tempered,it is near impossible to read his mood from his face as it gives nothing away.

Ever.

But actually he is one of the most decent guys you could meet.

He's tore a strip off me on occasion and when he bollocks you, boy do you feel it.

He has also granted me the most incredible favours.

But that's another blog.

When I was back in London years ago I rose through the company quite quickly.

I went from a common Reception Manager to Front of House Manager in two and a half years and only because he promoted me.

Back in the day the Front of House Manager looked after the business of the hotel. You did everything you could to maximise your revenue, to fill those rooms.

You yielded that hotel and managed the business.

He looked after my career.

I have a couple of stories about him, one stands out more than any other;

One morning my phone rang, I knew it was him.

And I blushed.

I have dined out on this story ever since.

And I'm telling you this because he came to the hotel today to attend the second year anniversary dinner.

And when I saw him in the lobby I froze, as I usually do with him.

Only for a second but I did.

And he's the only man who can do it to me.

It's the annual Pre-Hibernation gathering here in Manchester this weekend.

Bears from all over the country will descend on the city and hang out at the Outpost and Legends and generally have fun.

You wanna know something?

I'm quite happy to miss it.

Really.

I haven't really thought about it, it's only popped into my conciousness when I've booked rooms for visiting friends.

My weekend is going to be just as much fun, maybe a little more, and I get to spend it with the man I love.

And yes, I do know how lucky I am.

''How's thing's'' I ask over the phone.

''Same as usual.'' comes the reply ''crap''.

Inside my heart sinks.

I'm in the cab on the way home talking to my mother on the mobile and she is, ever so succintly, decribing life with her husband out of work.

I know it's crap.

I have heard all the intimate details from another source, I know the in's and out's of what's going on at my parent's.

And I agree, it's crap.

And I feel ashamed for a moment as part of me didn't want to call, to just ignore what is going on and let them get on with it.

But I did call.

So I can't be all bad.

And listening to my mother decribe what is becoming my step fathers almost futile efforts to find a job I know we have all been here before.

It's not the first time he's been out of work.

The first time I remember distinctly, it was the 80's and I had only been living with my mother a couple of years.

He had lost his job - he was a bar steward or manager of a pub or something - things were reaching an all time low.

The tension between him and my mother was almost tangible and peaked one afternoon when they visited a pawn shop to sell some belongings and only got £12 for the lot that included a beutiful almost antique Underwood typewriter that I liked to play with.

Christ, I even remember the amount.

I remember because I was in the back seat of the car when he returned and I can still see the disapointment on her face.

Wait,

That ain't true.

I can still feel it.

Twenty years later it's back to square one and it's heart breaking.

More for Jason than me, as I am one step removed.

I don't know what the solution is,the problem is more complex thn finding employment.

But I do worry.

''This is perhaps O'Neill's most accessible play, and with Kevin Spacey and Eve Best on coruscating form, this production is a real moment of glory for the Old Vic. Colm Meaney is also outstanding, adding some welcome humour''

So said the Sunday Times today.

And on the whole , it's an accurate review.

We ('G' and I)saw the play on Friday night, spending the evening in the cool embrace of the Old Vic while the rest of London endured a Cold November Rain.

The first half of the play is okay, it's merely setup for what is to come later so therefore it feels light and perhaps, a little plodding.

It's dialogue heavy but thats okay, as it is delivered with an irish/american accent that would bring life to the dullest passage.

Set in Conneticut in the 1930's, the arid farm is well evoked on stage with only a shanty house and a water pump for props and dust and blue sky for scenery.

Tyrant father Colm Meaney has lost his three sons to the world and only his daughter remains on the farm with him, and although her reputation with the local male populace is not a good one, she yearns to find Love.

And in this role Eve Best is superlative.

Spacey is the same.

His character spends night after night drinking and paying any local whore for their sevices but hating himself for it. He too wants to be loved, he wants to confess his shame that has haunted him since the death of his mother two years prior.

If the first half is a light entree that is almost - but not quite- frivolous, then the second half is the true meat and potatoes.

From the arrival of Spacey's character to the farm house where Josie has been waiting for him, under the light of the full moon, the performances given by both are formidable and mesmerising with many dramatic upswings and outbursts , but perhaps lacking the emotional connection I felt with the Alan Cumming character in 'Bent'.

Still, I enjoyed it.

I sat, watching with my arm around 'G' and his hand on my knee, lovers watching lovers.

Only ours, is requited

The M.E.N. arena was full.

I hadn't been there before and I was impressed by it's size, it reminded me of the Roman ampitheatres you see on Ben Hur.

And the like.

'G'had been his usual wonderful self and bought tickets for the Scissor Sisters and that night they kicked the collective ass of the audience.

Musically speaking of course.

This was the first concert I had been to in a few years, the last being either Morrissey at the Albert hall or the Wonderstuff at some open air festival in Nottingham.

Can't for the life of me remember which.

Anyhoo, the concert was good.

The music was great, they are as good live as they are on CD and they belted out tune after tune and even though the stage set was a little trippy in a 60's way with lots of false pespectives and back projection , it still worked.

But the best part?

The part I liked the most?

Putting my arms around 'G' and kissing his neck as we both gently bopped along to the vibe.