We went out for a nosh up last night, to a place called Juniper Lea, in order to celebrate Ian's Aunty Juny's birthday. We were accompanied by Ian's Father.Note my absence from la table. I took the above picture.
Ian's Father is a strange one. To say he lacks tact would be the under-statement of the century. He's the most inconsiderate man I've ever known, he's rude and thoughtless. Sometimes, I think he actually hates me - and then he'll go and give me a hug.
I just can't work some people out. So I don't bother trying any more.
We had a nice meal, a huge portion - and everything counts in large amounts. I do love a large portion. How I managed to eat all the dessert, I'll never know. It was my favourite part. I do love a nice creamy finish.
11 comments:
you are vulgar, and that's fabulous!
And I liked the "Depeche Mode" lyric. Nice.
Aunty Juny looks like a fab old doll. Tell her I like her.
I will do. Everybody likes Juny. She's fabulous.
You are clever to spot my subliminal DM lyric!
Do you think Ina will ever end up wearing powder blue tank-tops like his dad? Will you leave him if he does?
He's already said I'm to shoot him if he ends up like his Dad.
I'll willingly oblige.
Tank Tops - one of the few things we sent to America which their youth embraced and love. However, seeing an 18 year old in a tank top thinking he's cool always makes me chuckle.
Oh, and Juniper Lee is a kids TV show:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0419348/
That looks a lovely little restaurant. He knows his son and you are loooooovvvvvers, right?
A lovely little restaurant? It looks utterly vile!
Sorry Minge'n'Phyllis' n'things'n'bric'n'brac, but any restaurant worth its cracked sea-salt puts tablecloths on the tables. And doesn't have THAT particular 1970's fake brick plaster freso fiasco (painted pink) on the walls.
I didn't want to mention it but that place upsets me. A lot. Could be the cheap Blagoff vodka talking, I dunno. The only redeeming quality it has is that you chose to grace it with your ever fabulous presence... I assume the food was good?
Still, on the up-side, I'm totally adoring Auntie Juny.
He knows Ian and I are an item. He sees it, but doesn't look at it, if you catch my drift.
It's, "Ian's car..." or, "Ian's dogs..." or, "Ian's house..."
We are referred to as the boys, which totally bothers me.
We are not boys. We are men. I'm not being a psychologist here, but infantizing the whole thing (is infantizing a word?) removes any sexuality from the concept and makes it safe to talk about. Boys don't have sex, men do. Please, call me a man, not a boy.
There are no photographs of Ian and I in Ian's Father's house. There are photographs of Ian, photographs of Ian's brother and his ex-wife and former girlfriend. None of Ian and I.
The restaurant was ok. I'd not choose to go there. The walls were not fake, nor a fresco. They're the original thing from many moons ago when the place was a coaching inn. Even the pink paint was real.
The food was ok, but nothing with any imagination.
There's such a double standard from some in that generation, isn't there Minge? Gay men can be together for years and they still don't hono(u)r or appreciate or respect our relationships. Oh well. They're the last generation to feel that way.
My best buddy's (age 42) partner's mother calls her son and my friend "her boys" to her friends even though they've been together 16 years. And she won't elaborate. My friend tells a funny story about his partner's mom calling them that in front of a friend of hers who just didn't get what "her boys" meant... and then suddenly it dawned on her in a visible way.
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