Sunday, 7 June 2009


I wake up on a couch (fully clothed and relieved that they haven't come off at any point) and there is someone else passed out on another couch and there is someone or a couple (or they weren't a couple a few hours ago) in the spare room I think - and there's someone else on what appears to be a bed... and I want to leave this place now but I can't get out because the security door is locked so I have to forrage around for keys amongst the empty bottles, full ashtrays and abandoned sieves but can't find them so I have wake up the person who knows where the keys are and there are three people in that bed and clothes are everywhere and that's not really a sight I was planning to see and it takes ages to wake any of them up so I retreat and sit around for 9 seconds but then decide that I really do want to leave so return to that bedroom and shake one of them until they wake up and they find the keys.

The door is open, I am standing in the cold, crisp winter air in Cape Town. Although it's not that cold.

I am standing in my parent's kitchen where my mother is cooking chicken and my dad is reading the Sunday Times.

There are no naked three-in-a-bed romps. There is no loud house music. There is no very unattractive gogo boy on the bar in a red Speedo. There are no lesbians fighting in the road (seriously). There are no shots substituted with water. There are no boys who I have my arm around. There is no Alex. There is no drinking beer at 11am. There is man in a leather jacket who appears in the lounge at 5am. There is no talk of the guy who's only 19 but has an arse like the windsock at Heathrow. There is no drag queen hanging around the toilet. There is no guy who said that I look best with my shirt off (love you). There is no homeless person I can throw money at. There is no car guard trying to sell crystal meth. There is no underage kid who did jack-off porn. There is no Bronx Action Bar or Crew or Beaulah. There are no bitchy comments to the short guy. There are no drunk guys dancing to Beyonce.

All there is is the dog sitting patiently waiting for my mother to accidentally drop some of the chicken she's carving.

"So what did you do this weekend?"

"Oh, nothing much..."