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| Diary entries - 9 |
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| Not the South China Morning Post Patsy |
| Dear Gentle Readers, Firstly, Sweetie Darlings, I thank you for the surprise welcoming home present of the American navy in our port. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I was on the Star Ferry back from the airport to see one of these sleek things being tied up to the port at Kowloon, my womb literally dropped. Thankyou Thankyou from the bottom of my heart dear sweet readers. It’s been sleepless nights since my return . Well us ‘locals’ have to show these nice American boyz around don’t we ? Talking of Americans, have you noticed that the Afro-Americans have the cutest buns, so round, tight and bubbly gummy that you can definitely have them bouncing off the walls. Onto my other news. What do you get if you put Pasta, Wurst, Kiwi Fruit, Edam, Swedes, Rollmops, Hamburgers, Frites and a small dash of rice together with a liberal dash of Versace, Lagerfeld, Gucci, Zegna, Armani all together ? Queens on holidays. What a fabulous time Patsy has had in the past two weeks. Have come back from ….. all bronzed. Well almost; I personally don’t like to have all exposed to the sun, putting factor 30 on my intimate parts doesn’t seem seemly - no a sensible swimming costume is more fitting for your dear columnist, besides which I do tend to get noticed in such conservative attire. Pleased to note that there were only two bum floss swimming costumes on the beach, so obviously there were not many Germans on holiday this year at ……, just sufficient quantities for me to sample. To think that I had two weeks away without hearing a single spit, nor did I suffer from a sharp elbow in the ribs, nor an umbrella in the eye. One could be pleasant and talk to shop keepers and waiters - ohhh the waiters !!! Also, one could walk in a straight line (well at least before 2 am) down a crowded street. Oh the simple luxuries of life that you take for granted in civilisation but are forced to put up with whilst living in the ex colonies. Routines on holidays are so pleasant aren’t they. Our typical day was as follows: Arise at 11am, look at what you had picked up from the night before in daylight, if a Dog an excuse such as “ooh is it THAT late, must dash and meet some friends - bye “ If it was a NYM then “ Do you want a shower and some breakfast ?” If it was a NYM from the night before make certain that all in the hotel see him. If it was either a Dog or a lonely night by oneself then have breakfast as inconspicuously in the corner of the restaurant. Lay by the pool for 1-2 hours and check out the new guests. Germans arrived Mondays, Brits on Wednesday, Scandinavians on Thursday etc. Lunch, yes well either by the pool or in ‘town’ At 3pm decisions decisions, should we go to back to the pool or go to the beach - The beach was the choice the majority of the time. The beach, hmmm who’s up who and who’s not paying . Put gaydar on full alert for a. any NYM’s not noticed from yesterday and b. any new arrivals of NYM’s 6pm, yes well the two cafes at either end of the beach have succeeded in luring you to one of their establishments with their loud fagbeat summer crazed music. Fabulous groping time there. 8pm, yes well must dash back to the hotel for a wee nappette before the evening. 11pm, pre town drinkies at the pool bar in the hotel, again just to make certain that you haven’t missed any new ‘guests’. Dinner, hmmm “Where do you think that that NYM with the big lunch box will be dinning ?’ was a very common question which determined mainly where we ate. Restaurants are decided not on their cuisine, oh no far more important was to have views of the queens mincing down the street and to be sure that you are seen ! 1am , quite poofey bar to relax before the main onslaught, a few martinis to settle the nerves. 2 am Yes the disco. So small and so cramped - Fabulous darlings ! Frotiging at it’s best along with the more obvious groping. 3am, hmmm who to pick up - have you ever noticed that it is always you who has to pick up and not that they ever come over to you ? Oh well maybe it’s just me. The rest of the evening is left for your filthy imagination. Keep it up and keep safe. Patsy. |