Dancing Queens

Our “hotel” room at Snoozebox was about the size of a downstairs water closet. It smells funny, but the beds are quite comfy.

Banging tune after banging tune and leaving you wanting more! Which was hardly surprising as they didn’t do so many of their best numbers … but everything they did do was one of their best numbers!

The effects were unbelievable – the abbatars were almost entirely convincing – only their perfection belied the fantasy. Of course, the vocals were the original – there is no faking those voices.

Lighting and staging brought the entire auditorium into the performance. The sound was immersive. People cheered and danced and applauded these computer generated characters as though they were physically present.

To complete the illusion, there was a talented live band and real backing singers. They performed one number most excellently.

The room was so hot, as though two-thousand menopausal women and one eunuch were all simultaneously having hot flushes – which is what, in fact, it was.

If you intend eating or drinking at the arena, try borrowing against the house: it’s a little pricey!

The hotel had an after party where an Aperol Spritz cocktail is served. I’m halfway through my second and feeling a little numb-drunk. It’s a good feeling. I wish there were some drugs I could try. A long time ago, I tried a little pot, but it had to be breathed into a glass for me (I couldn’t smoke it). I also tried some cocaine at that range time of my life, but I think I ended up wearing most of it!

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The morning after

I slept really well. The bed was comfy and I enjoyed being on the top bunk, although my obligatory nighttime wee was a bit risky.

Breakfast wasn’t included, so we forked out £10 each for a “continental”. The coffee was disgusting sludge now suitable for surfacing roads than driving. We pocketed some Belgian waffles to tide us over later on.

We had discussed going to a gay sauna, however I feel really very tired! I am not used to drinking and, whilst I am currently spared the headache, the alcohol has definitely had an effect on my already compromised energy levels.

In a passive-aggressive mood that’s my dad, I think I might spend my birthday money on sex gear! Possibly getting some better puppy stuff.

I’m thinking of “Magpie” for my puppy persona, which can me shortened to “Mags” rather than “Maggy”. “Magpie” and “Mags” feel gender-neutral, whereas “Maggy” feels too female.

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On my own in Soho

On the way to Covent Garden we sat on some giant pebbles. There was a smell of drains, so I finished my coffee and said that I wanted to move on. Hubby said to go ahead and that he’d catch up. That was a couple of hours ago.

I wandered around Covent Garden and bought him a present. Then walked to Soho – I needed a coffee. I’m in the pleasant Portuguese cafe that specialises in pastel de nata, a favourite of my mum’s, trying one of their pastels and driving a coffee. It’s a good coffee and the pastel is warm and delicious.

When we eventually find each other, my husband’s mood had dropped. He’s wondering whether he wants to be in a relationship why more – I’m looking at kinky stuff and wanting to explore some of my farm and fun sides to that identity. He says that he didn’t know if that’s him: he’s trying to fit himself to something and doesn’t know what shape he is, he just feels that whatever it is isn’t right for him. I’m nervous about this. It’s he wanting to separate? It’s that where he’s heading? It’s that what needs to happen? It’s not what I want, but both people have to want a relationship for one to really exist. Should we try being “just friends” for a while? It’s that what he wants? What he needs?

I eventually admitted that whilst I do love him for who he is now, that when we first met I fell in love with the idea of him: a daddy type who could look after and lead me … and when he got ill and fell away from that ideal age left me looking after everything, that I started to resent him because he wasn’t what I wanted him to be. I was an idiot: I could still have been learning from his life examples because he was a strong and emotionally intelligent man – he just didn’t want to be somebody’s daddy.

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I am alone in the hotel room, tryng to get some rest; husband had time out. I can’t relax. I’m tossing and turning. The room is too bright, even with my face mask on. My head is a little achy. The real problem is that my head won’t shut down: is he ok? Where has he gone? It’s he lost? What is he thinking? Feeling? How much have I upset him in what we’ve been talking about and what I shared earlier?

It is exhausting.

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He’s back. Not lost. We’ll go out in a bit. I think we’re as ok as we’re going to be today.