That is the name of a Gilbert and George picture.

Binky! Where is your mind at???

To say that the Gilbert and George exhibition at the Tate Modern was a pile of shit would not be an insult.

Perhaps a description of one of their pictures.

The exhibition itself is huge, taking up nearly a floor an as you wander around you can fully appreciate how their works have developed, from the black and white/red pieces of the 70's through the brightly coloured pictures of the 80's and then the 'brown' period of the early 90's...

I think any artist who calls a picture ''SPIT/CUM/BLOOD/PISS'' is either a genius or a frickin' lunatic.

It was good though, and worth a visit.

We had a blast.

We arrived in San Francisco three hours late as the engine of the 747 wouldn't start and an engineer had to replace the starter motor before we could go anywhere.

We remarked several times that if we had been sitting in coach and not business, this indeed would have been unbearable.

But with the extra comfort afforded to us, it was manageable.

The hotel was located at Fisherman's Wharf, one of the best area's in San Fran -in terms of stuff to do- and as we rode in the cab from the airport I was like a kid, all wide eyed and looking at everything, taking it all in.

We had breakfast the next morning at the local diner and then had a short walk around the area, taking in the city view of Coit Tower and the Transamerica Pyramid and the dozing sea lions that have made Pier 39 their home since the 89' quake.

That same day we did Alcatraz and a city tour and both were great.

Alcatraz was a dark, heartless place and as you were guided around the cell blocks and the cells themselves you really had a feel for the guys who were incarcerated there.

It must have been thorouhgly dehumanizing.

The city itself is beutiful, a big major city that has retained it's small town feel, perhaps due to the electic neighbourhoods that make it up.

And for me, to see the Golden Gate Bridge as close as I did was an ambition fulfilled.

It was spectaular.

It took my breath away.

And San Franciscan's have a great sense of humour.

For example, a laundereatte that was aptly named 'The Missing Sock'.

We rode the cable cars from Powell to Market and back again, taking in the spectacular views one you reached the crest of a hill.

On the Tuesday we flew down to Vegas and were stunned by the stark contrast between the two cities, one fast,brash and bright and the other slightly more civilised and individual.

It's like comparing the Road Runner to Deputy Dawg.

Kinda.

But Vegas was great, the hotel was the MGM Grand and the lobby was like a train station with 31 receptionist looking after 500 rooms, surrounded by slot machines and casino's

There are an estimated 225,000 slot machines in Vegas.

Apparently.

We only played one, swingers that we are.

The Star Trek experience was good and the 'beam up' effect quite slick.

Lunch was at Quarks on the DS9 promenade.

In the evening we went totally Vegas and saw Barry Manilow in concert.

And he was good!

In a cheesey vegas kind of way.

I'm not a 'fanilow' but he was very good and showed why he is one of the best entertainers working today.

The next day we took a bus trip to the Grand Canyon and the Hoover Dam, both were spectacular in there own way and we both concluded that if we were to go back to Vegas a tour INSIDE the Dam would be good.

We flew back to SF the next day after walking the strip and enjoying the view from the Stratosphere hotel.

Back in Vegas we were a little more relaxed and shopped and hung out, pover the nine days we visited the Castro twice and enjoed walking along the street holding hands like any other couple.

On the friday and Saturday nights we did go very gay and saw the world premier of Legally Blonde The Musical ( I Kid you not) and on Saturday we saw Petula Clark playing her first SF gig in 30 years.

That Petula pronounced PETUULA.

She was good!

She sounded great and her little anecodtes between songs were funny bordering on downright bitchy!!

The audience mix, as you can imagine was old and gay.

We were perhaps two of the youngest fags there.

We were sorry to Leave Sf as we had had such a great time, a great time not just on holiday but being with each other.

''We realise that our portions are big so if you wish to take some home, we're happy gor you to do so''

Said the menu, or words to that effect.

Well.

The portions at the CheeseCake Factory were bloody big to say the least, not to mention 31 varieties of Cheesecake.

The Godiva one was a favourite of G's.

I tried three different ones over the course of our visits and loved 'em all.

Yes, the portions were big.

But we coped.

www.doctorwhoscarf.com

Geez, some people really need to get laid.

And soon.

The departure from Manchester was surpisingly unemotional, well for me anyway.

That is not to say that I am a guy who doesn't care about the people I left behind, I do , but I also know it was my time to move on.

I am not weighed down with the what-may-have-been opportunities and fuck it, I'm old enough and ugly enough to lnow what I am doing.

After the breakfast at the Hilton on the Thursday morning, the leaving drinks on the Thursday night, the lunch with the BOSS on the Friday, the afternoon tea on the Friday afternoon and then the goodbye dinner with my department on Friday night...sheesh..I was ready to leave.

I guess a man can measure his success and failure not the size of his paypacket but on how many leaving parties he has and how many cry at this departure.

Heh.

It's bullshit I know, but what the heck.

There was a moment though, a small quiet moment after all the fuss had died down that I felt a twinge of emotion.

In my mind I looked around my house, I looked around the hotel..wandered through the lobby, the atrium, the bar and restaurant..the office and the canteen...I was a part of that place before it was a hotel. When I arrived it was just bricks and mortar, an empty space waiting to be given form.

I'll miss the place.

Even now, a few days later I am still looking at the KPI's for Manchester and firing off emails for what needs to be done.

Saying goodbye was perhaps too easy, letting go, is proving a little harder.

Once I start at New Providence my focus will shift and I will no longer think of myself as part of the Mancheter hotel teeam.

That's when I'll move on.

'Frisco baby!

Yep, we are going to San Fancisco!

We fly out this friday for a ten day visit that includes two or three days in Vegas.

And no, we won't be wearing any flowers in our hair.

I have always had a thing for the place, I love the iconography of the Golden Gate Bridge, standing proud and majestic and confidant.

Back in the day, when I just starting to become aware of the whole Bear scene I corresponded with a chap who lived in the Bay Area.

He sent me calender of San Francisco and there were some amazing shots.

One that stands out was of the Golden Gate Bridge with a lightening storm raging behind it.

The forks of lightening were captured as they bounced off the bridge itself,

I love that it was the centre of the hippie movement in the sixties, the gay movement of the sixties and seventies and of course it will be the centre of the United Federation of Planets when the Star Trek Universe happens.

Unless of course the Zombie Apocalypse happens first.

We are staying on Fisherman's Wharf, not far from the dock of the bay.

If you are kind enough to be reading this and can make any reccomendations, please do.

The moon hung heavy and large in the night sky, it's orange glow reflected off the windscreen of the van, as did the street lamps that acted like our guard of honour.

We drove south, G and I, from Manchester to Birmingham and then on to London.

It had been a long day.

I collected the van early Saturday morning and we had loaded everything that we we wanted to take to London from my house to his apartment - our new home together.

We stopped for lunch with my family, my mom, my brother, his fiance and my step dad.

A simple pub lunch, nothing special but good fun anyway.

Then we hit the road, arriving in London at around 8pm.

Without stopping we emptied the van of everything and then relaxed a little before going to bed.

It was our first night together without having to say goodbye a couple of days later.

And that for me, above all else is the best part for me.

Knowing I can turn over and for every night for the rest of my life I can slip my arm around his sleeping form and kiss him gently on the back.

Man, I wanted that dessert.

I had been thinking a out it since I saw it on the menu and I wanted it.

Y'see I'm a fatass.

I love my food.

Let me assure, you, I do not have a thin person inside me just dying to get out.

Oh No.

I probably did, but my inner fatass probably beat that poor sunovabitch to the ground before sitting on the poor bastard and squashing him to death.

Anyway, I wanted that desert.

I was siting having lunch with the BOSS, it was my final day so he was taking me to lunch.

We had both scanned the menu and as usual I had looked at the desserts before any other course.

Listed was a Knickerbocker Glory.

I kid you not.

I used to love these when I was a kid, when my mom was the mangeress of the Wimpy restaurant in Lichfield.

For those who do not know and have obviousely never lived, a Knickerbocker Glory is a large glass filled with fruit, ice cream and topped with cream and sauce.

Yum.

We chose our main course - he had the Mixed Grill and I had the Chicken with Tagliatelle and we then began to chat.

We spoke about the last three years and how I had enjoyed this and that and what had I learned etc.

You know the kind of conversation.

Our food arrived and we continued chatting, talking about the new hotel and the GM, and the company at large.

In fact we walked right up until he paid the cheque.

As he signed the small piece of paper he looked up at me.

''Oh Shit. I forgot to ask if you wanted dessert..?''

I smiled and politely said no.

Inside I screamed.