Crossing The Line

For everyone who knows me, I am literally my hair. Yes I did just quote Lady Gaga, which is incredibly homosexual of me, but then again I am  one so I think I can do so. Anyway; my hair, is very important to me. Why? Who knows. But it always has been. From the early teenage years where by I piled wet look gel into my blonde tresses making me look like a poor infantile version of every late 90’s boy band members. The cows lick was my best friend. I have sampled all the hair styles, but in recent years I have found a style that suits my face and style. Long on top, short on sides.  Yes predictably its the same long quiff look that most lads my age are sporting these days.   Every now and then I forget myself. Inspired by some fashion article, Instagram post - person in the street, I think wow maybe I should cut my hair up into that style.  I could pull that off.  Recently I had delusions of grandeur, I ended up with a top knot and a moustache for ...

Have you ever been to a social gathering where by you only had a loose connection to the person hosting it? This being all the more obviously by the fact you are standing out like a twink at a bear club? For the most part, you will at some points in your life, have to suffer casual drinks, birthday parties, going away parties, weddings and shows under the guise of a favour you owe a friend.   ‘Can you please come to Mary’s drinks on Friday night? It is on   out in Hackney    in the cutest little gin bar’ all the while you sense the under tone of   ‘you owe me bitch, remember that art exhibit in Peckham when the venue smelled like rotten cheese?’. She doesn’t say this, but its all in the eyes. So of course, you say ‘Okay, as long as we go central afterwards together’.   What you are really thinking is, Does Mary even live near Hackney? Doesn’t she live by Holloway? The other side of London, she’s only having the drinks there as the boy she fancie...

Do you ever get yourself into a situation big or small, where by, five minutes into it you're knee deep in regret? For the next few blog posts, I shall be discussing the many scenarios where by my tolerance stops at 5 minutes. This series shall be entitled 5 Minutes in.  Lets start this thing shall we?! Five minutes in: Bath In principle a bath sounds like a really enjoyable experience. I have many a friend who swear’s by after a extremely nerve wracking day, they like nothing better then a hot steamy bath to burn away the day. They find it both soothing and relaxing with the added benefit of being cleansing. Really? I beg to differ my friend. I know in my heart, I am never going to enjoy a bath, but every now and then I find myself thinking. Oh maybe this time. Usually I'm thinking this while I am cooped up in a hotel room all on my lonesome.   Who doesn’t want to use the amenities to there fullest in a hotel? From my own personal experience a bath goes l...