What an eventful day yesterday was. As we had agreed, young Dorothy turned up at my house around noon in a car loaded with the boxes and bags containing her belongings. I had had Mrs Kaczka prepare the big room at the back. I will admit that the view may not be the best, but it does have an en suite bathroom. I am sure that neither of us want the embarrassment of bumping to each other on the way to our ablutions.
And I must say that so far it has been quite jolly having someone around the old place. It is rather pleasant having some company for a change. Not that I am ever exactly lonely, what with Dasher often passing by on his way to lunch. Other friends do visit from time to time, and there is always Mrs Kaczka if I need to chat to someone. But having a permanent companion is something new to me. Not that Dorothy’s stay is permanent, but I am sure she will be be with me for a little while yet.
Having said that, Aunt Murdock is already looking around for a new project to sink her teeth, and her money, into. Dorothy’s previous production was one of Mad Duck’s investments but it didn’t work out. Not surprising really. I would never say anything to Dorothy, but I thought it was awful. Dorothy herself was very good, but the show was one of those arty types that bore me terribly.
Anyway, as far as our living arrangements are concerned, I think that Dorothy and I will get along very well. After all, there is no chance of anything romantic between us, her being gay (if that is the right word). Her girlfriend Angela was round yesterday evening and I found her to be a very nice young lady. I can see why my aunt thought she would be a suitable catch for yours truly, had her preferences and affections not been in another direction entirely.
I still haven’t said anything to my aunt about her error in trying to match me up with either Dorothy or Angela – I am not sure which one she had intended as my latest date – and I am not looking forward to it. I am not sure how she will take the news that her protege is batting for the other side, so to speak. But as far as I can see, you have to assume that at least half of the acting community is gay. Whilst that is particularly true of the men, from my experience, most of the women at that way too.
Not that I have anything against gays. There are a couple of homosexuas at the Club and we treat them just the same as the normal chaps. After all, this is the twenty-first century and we are supposed to be an inclusive and liberal society. Of course, there are some of the older chaps at the club who frown on such things, but so long as they don’t make a show of their sexuality or try to proposition anyone, what harm are they doing?
After supper yesterday I left Dorothy and Angela to themselves and took myself down to the Club for snooker and a few drinks. A couple of the chaps had heard about my having invited Dorothy to stay and were keen to find out how things were going. Which seemed a little ridiculous her having only moved in that afternoon. Personally, I think some of the chaps are rather intrigued by me having a gay relative living under my roof and I am sure I can expect more questions as time goes by.
I am currently in my study looking out on a bright but cloudy Kensington. With my window open I can hear the reassuring hum of traffic and people below me. There is nowhere quite like London. My recent trips to Ascot and Birkdale, whilst pleasant and welcome in their own way, remind me of just how special this city is. As a child I was sent away to schools in the country but never lost my love for the hustle and bustle of the big city. I don’t often walk the streets, preferring to be driven these days, but when I do I am often both astonished and comforted by the cosmopolitan nature of the people I see and meet. I know that some people think I am a bit pompous and a stuck-in-the-mud, but you can’t live in a city like this with learning to appreciate complexity and international nature of one’s fellow residents. Despite our many differences, we are all Londoners, and we should be proud of that. I know I am.
And that’s enough of that sentimental rubbish from me. Time to get myself ready for an evening with friends. Dorchester and his American girlfriend Annabelle have invited me out for a spot of supper and a drink or two at his parents home in Highgate Hill. It should be a jolly evening. Whilst I have my reservations about Annabelle, I am rather fond of Dorchester’s parents. They were very good to me when my own parents died and they have always looked out for me. Not that I need looking out for, you understand, but it is nice nonetheless to know that someone out there cares about you.