Didn’t they do well?
Massive props to Lyle, Mr.D., qB & Robin, for collectively providing an absolutely storming start to Troubled Diva Guest Month. Blimey, just look at the height of that bar already!
My only regret thus far is that I have been unable to participate as much as I would have liked. The dear, deluded Parisians seem to think that I am some sort of tireless toil machine, and have consequently been working me into the ground over the past week or so. OK, so I’m talking comparatively here, but really. The sheer impudence of it all. Why, I even had to go into the office for over five hours yesterday, just to get everything done before flying back over tomorrow afternoon.
Added to this, a woefully embarrassing episode with a mis-configured laptop on the first afternoon made me look like an utter chump from the off – after which, I couldn’t shake off the idea that I was starring in Mr. Bean Goes To Paris. It was one of those weeks where everything I said or did felt mis-judged, or doomed to failure, or amusingly inept, or just plain wrong – from being desperate for a slash at the top of the Eiffel Tower, to ordering escargots for dinner and not having a clue how to eat them (were you supposed to smash the shells first, or what? I even tried to phone K for emergency culinary advice, but he wasn’t picking up), to finding that the Atelier Brancusi was shut, to getting hopelessly lost in the middle of the Marais…oh, it was pitiful.
Then, there was the alienation to contend with. In the office, I was nothing more than a Human Labour Unit, whilst at night I dined and drank alone, with only the new Robert Harris novel for company. With fourteen years’ experience of overseas business travel behind him, K is entirely acclimatised to this kind of situation – indeed, he has frequently commented that sitting on his own in a restaurant with a good book is one of his great pleasures in life. As for me: after more than one night of it, I just feel lonely, miserable, increasingly invisible and insignificant.
(On the other hand: with fourteen years’ experience of being home alone in Nottingham, while K gads about the globe, I am more than happy with my own company under my own roof – hey, I can play nasty loud pop music all night without fear of censure! As for K: after more than one night of it, he begins to go a bit stir crazy. There’s something of a hair-raising story to tell here, but no time (as yet) to do it justice. Just you wait, though.)
Anyway: this week, things will be different. Remember the slightly apologetic shout-out I made for Sarah in Paris, just over a week ago? Well, she’s been in touch and we’ll be meeting for a drink in the next couple of days. Ah, the sweet balm of social contact…
Also, now that I know where the Net Caffs are, I’ll be trying to fulfil last week’s thwarted aim of leaving a comment on every single one of the coming week’s guest posts. (I was able to complete a short flush of these towards the end of last week, but quickly ran out of time.)
Which brings us back round to the subject of this week’s guests. Who are, in alphabetic order:
Aunt Cyn. Yes: for the first time, a real life relative of mine takes to blogging! Cynthia, whom I haven’t seen in person for over a decade, stumbled across TD quite by accident, earlier in the year. She’s a lady who’s had a lively old time during her sixty-plus years – so lively in fact that she now lives in disgraced exile from the rest of the Troubled Diva family (i.e. they don’t talk about her) in a small country chalet in Liechtenstein, where she spends her days making home-produced jams and writing the Dear Cyn agony aunt column for the Liechtenstein Mail & Herald. You’re gonna love her.
John of Rainbow Villa. Originally from Cardiff, and now studying medicine in Liverpool, John is the youngest of my sixteen guests – and quite possibly the gayest, in every sense of the word. OK, in both senses. Tsk. Pedants. “I’m too young, hot and smart to be a twink”, he claims, impishly. Which is a slight shame, as I think that this place could benefit from a little twinking up from time to time.
Mac of go fish. Well now, this is exciting. Until Mac got in touch to volunteer her services, I had never knowingly visited her popular and much linked-to blog – making her one of the “unknown quantities” that I was hoping to attract over the course of the month. Mac is married to Mr. Fish, lives in Philadelphia, and – oh my God, how fantastic is this? – used to be a cheerleader. Pom-poms ahoy! Go Mac! Go Mac! Go Mac!
quarsan of my life in the bush of ghosts. Look everybody, it’s the Twat! Yes: the founder member of the mighty blogging dynasty which now includes My Boyfriend Is A Twat and Quickos Daily News takes a break from all that Bush-n-Blair-bashing on his own blog to join us here at Troubled Diva, where he has promised (amongst other things) to tell us a bit about his punk rock past. In fact, he’s started already (see below). Just Don’t Mention The War, OK?
Guests, it’s over to you. Week Two of Troubled Diva Guest Month starts…NOW.
troubled diva 