All's Well That Ends

This weekend wasn't one of our best, all in all, although it was salvaged at the last moment, albeit not by a hairy muscular man on a horse, which is how I like all my weekends to end.

Er.

The Boyf hasn't been well. There seems to be a lot of chest infections going round and as usual I haven't caught it myself although I seem to be surrounded by sick people. My Boss, then two of my team, have been out of work and then finally The Boyf succumbed. He calls me "Typhoid Nelly" on account of my ability to pass germs from one person to another without being ill myself. Most usually chlamydia. Kidding.

I always berate women when they say that men are crap at being ill, but I have to say that The Boyf was a terrible patient. For two whole days communication almost completely broke down as all I could get were half-opened eyes and groans. It seemed a slow, agonising death of Oscar winning proportions right up until Sunday morning when he suddenly pronounced himself well again and then complained that the flat could do with a tidy round. Like I hadn't been busy enough mopping his brow.

Friday night had seen a World AIDS Day charity event at Tonka, with the return of the porn stars, and we'd been looking forward to it. The Boyf mumbled into my ear that I could go on my own if I fancied it, and then added that he'd be fine left all on his own as he had been all day whilst I was at work. I didn't go out. Instead I sat and watched The Boyf sleep for the entire evening until I carried him to the bed which didn't even rouse him from his slumber.

Saturday night was Megawoof!, and OBM#2 was pestering me to leave The Boyf at home and come out on my own, where we could both get up to no good (as OBM#1 was busy elsewhere). I mentioned it to The Boyf and again he mumbled that he didn't mind if I left him all alone. He'd be fine. As long as he didn't need anything urgently because he didn't have the strength to move. "No, go out and leave me and try not to worry about me whilst you're having fun", he added. Urgh! I didn't go out. He spent the evening asleep again.

Come Sunday morning I needed to get out of the flat. And then The Boyf bounced into the room pronouncing himself well again. A Christmas miracle no less! I'd made arrangements to visit my Mum which had been put on hold, but with The Boyf better he said he could do with getting out and would enjoy the trip out of London. So we set off. And then the car broke down. We'd managed about 6 miles. I tinkered about under the bonnet but it was only going to be a temporary measure - we certainly weren't going to get any further on our trip. So we headed home, having to make a couple of stops on the way to sort the car out.

Deciding to make the best of a bad situation, one of the stops put us in range of a seller of Christmas Trees, so we promptly bought one and stuffed it in the back of the car to give us something to do once we finally reached home. So now Christmas has officially arrived in our flat, courtesy of a beautiful 7 foot Nordic Pine which we decorated whilst drinking sherry and listening to Doris Day. It's a Christmas tradition now in our home.

And then I remembered that I had been given two tickets to see Mika in concert for my birthday by The God, no less. From seeing him at the gym that time and then, er, having a little fun in The Hoist, The God has turned into one of our better friends. With the Boyf newly recovered and the "end" part of "weekend" rapidly approaching we headed out to the gig, which was amazing. Mika's a truly talented lad, and puts on a brilliant show. We didn't even care that we only knew three songs (discounting the inspired cover of The Eurythmics' "Missionary Man"). To be honest Mika's songs are highly derivative, sounding largely like Elton John/Freddie Mercury/Scissor Sisters (who are incredibly derivative themselves), but this just means that you have a faint sense of deja vu with each song, like you've heard it somewhere before. Hence it seems easy to pick up the melodies and then drown out everyone around you with a faltering falsetto. Or maybe that's just me. And the encore was such a blast. Dancing bunnies, giant balloons, confetti cannons, the works! We both left with huge smiles on our faces and our weekend finished on a high.