Homos at the speed of light - on the dancefloor, in the car, and in the air.

Greetings dear readers!  Blogmeister David here, and finally I have some time to write up a few notes about the last few days.  Sitting here on the airplane on our way home from England has been the first chance I have had!  This has been one of the busiest trips that we have ever been on and opportunities to write have been, for me, non-existent.  The reason for this is twofold; first I was the driver in England, so didn’t not have my normal chance to tap away on the keyboard while James was whizzing us across the land, and secondly we were just so busy that there was nary a moment to think let alone write!  But now, ensconced in my minute seat on American Airlines, typing with my thumbs because the seat pitch and spacing has been reduced so much that I cannot even fully open the screen of my 13” laptop, I thought I would catch you all up on some of the excitement that has been occurring in the Martin Koschoreck family.

As you know, dear reader, we arrived last Wednesday on the fabulous transatlantic daylight flight from Chicago (the timing was fabulous, the flight itself far from, as always), and spent a few days whirling around the north country, seeing my sister, her partner Mike, children, along with the famous “Top Tottie from Tottington” Christine.  You know all of this because you read James’ blog post on Saturday morning.  So I shall pick up from where he left off, because I am sure you are just gasping for more of our gripping adventures.  I’d hate to disappoint you all so, without further preamble I’ll move swiftly along…..

After breakfast in the fabulous Zig Zag Cottage in Harwich, which was sitting on top of the previous night’s Chinese feast of Sweet and Sour Prawns, Beef and Broccoli, Chicken and Mushrooms, special friend rice, Prawn Crackers, and Spring Rolls (eaten at 1am in the morning I may add) we decided that we would like to go to the seaside.  Harwich, pronounced “Harritch” for those unacquainted, is about as far as you can go without falling off the edge of the world in England.  Located in the county of Essex, just above London and to the right, it is a favourite place for sun, sea, and splendor.  Except in November, when you get just sea.  Still, undaunted by the looming grey clouds and ominous looking sky, we picked ourselves up and swept off towards the seaside town of Clacton.  We had only a few hours before we had to go to the wedding so we spent a pleasant time wandering the pier and watching the natives shuffle along the sea walk looking thoroughly miserable in the mist and murk.  It was then that I spied a little stall selling fresh seafood, another ever present feature of the English seaside.  We rushed over and proceeded to marvel at the offerings available to us.  And that was just the lady who was working there, who had on rather a lot of make-up, a brassy blonde hairdo, all topped off with a violent gash of red lipstick.  After the initial alarm of the scowling and rather uncommunicative seaside wench, we started to peruse her wares, chiefly, Cockles, Mussels, (alive, alive oh!), crab sticks, pickled eggs (yuck), and the ultimate….jellied eels.

Now, dear reader, I am always concerned about broadening the horizons of my darling husband James when it comes to English culture, so what better opportunity could there be than to have him try jellied eels.  I am sure that most of the English people reading this blog are at the moment hurling into a bucket, but for the sake of the Americans who have no idea what this is all about, let me enlighten you.  Jellied eels are considered a very traditional London delicacy (chiefly an east London and Essex one I believe), and are eels caught from the estuary of the river Thames, cooked, chopped up, and then chilled in aspic/jelly.  They are, dear gastronomes of the blog-o-sphere, quite vile in my opinion.  Cold, slimy, gelatinous, lumpy, and well, chewy, are just some of the words I will use to describe them.  But seeing as I was not going to be eating them, I proceeded to sell James on the idea of trying them anyway.  My reputation for being able to sell an Eskimo snow is there for a reason, however in the spirit of full disclosure I did tell James that I thought they were fairly horrid and that I wouldn’t eat them.  But I also impressed upon him the fact that this would be a significant cultural and culinary milestone in his assimilation into English culture.  After a moment’s hesitation he stepped forward and handed over the sum of three pounds and was duly presented with a large pot of eels and a plastic fork.  I played it safe and had a pot of cockles in malt vinegar……

It only took one mouthful.  After shoveling in a hefty portion of the jelly and icky, cold, lumpy, gelatinous, slimy (are you getting the idea yet?) fish into his mouth, a rather alarmed look developed across my husband’s normally cherubic and gorgeous visage.  This was followed by a grimace and determined look, that brought on perhaps the largest swallow that has been seen this side of Pamela Anderson on the casting couch.  It was to be the only swallow as James then declared himself an avowed member of the “Jellied Eels are cock-a-do-do” club.  Spinning on his heel like any good homosexual with a pot of fish in his hand should be able to, he marched onto the beach and proceeded to feed the remains to the seagulls.  The seagulls swooped down from the sky to investigate and then as one performed feats of acrobatics and peeled back around and swept off into the sky shrieking in horror too.  I guess no-one really likes jellied eel.  So with that little escapade complete it was time to head back to our hotel to prepare for the wedding of Alan and Phillip!

Speeding our way through the country lanes brought us safely back where we changed into our finery and within 30 minutes we were back on the road to Colchester where the ceremony was to be taking place.  Colchester is about a 30 minute drive from Harwich and for those of you interested in such frippery is the oldest recorded town in England.  Never let it be said that this blog is a waste of your time, as without such gems of learning, you, dear reader, would be so much poorer without such nuggets of information to toss casually into the conversation at your next dinner party.  30 minutes later we arrived and after securing a place in a very large car park full of determined looking Saturday shoppers, we walked to the registry office where we met our dear friends Colin and David who we had not seen since our wedding last year.  We took our seats and sat back and enjoyed the wonderful ceremony that followed.

In a rare moment of seriousness from your Blogmeister, I have to say that this was a special occasion for many reasons.  Alan is a dear friend who I had lost contact with when I moved to the USA and we only rediscovered each other a few years ago thanks to Facebook.  So it was particularly lovely to be able to witness and celebrate such a super affair.  It should also be noted that the opportunity to see two people of the same sex legally join as a couple in law is a remarkable testament to how far certain parts of the world have come.  It fills my heart to see it and the sooner the rest of the world gets their heads out of the sand and realizes that love is valid in all shapes, sizes, and sexualities the better.  For those of you investigating elections next year remember that equality is important and I urge you to support candidates who are fair, just and who support equality, regardless of their party affiliation.  So there.

After the ceremony was over we all went out to the lovely courtyard behind the office and posed for the obligatory photographs.  I busied myself with snapping a few of my own; once a wedding photographer always a wedding photographer it seems.  It was a very jolly affair and a short while later we were off back to Harwich for the next part of the day.  Alan had arranged for a small group of us to congregate at The Tower Hotel for a few hours and we duly sat on lovely big sofas with gin and tonics, wine, and spent a very wonderful few hours in a small group catching up with each other and marveling at how fabulous friendships are, especially ones that seem to be able to survive long periods apart.  It seemed only yesterday that so many of us were 20 years old and heading down to The Euston Tavern in London to dance out little whatsit’s off to “The Boss” by Diana Ross.  Ah, the stuff of legend…..

At around 7pm it was time to head onward to the main reception part of the evening.  Held at the Royal Oak pub in The Acorn Suite, we arrived to find a veritable feast laid before us and a fabulous disco.  With both Alan and I sharing very similar musical tastes I was looking forward to the opportunity to dance the night away and I was not disappointed.  Before long your intrepid blogger was busting out some spectacular moves on the dance floor to S’Express, Kylie Minogue, Lady Gaga, YMCA, ABC, The Human League, and other such luminaries of my youth.  James and I took to the floor on many occasions and were also joined by new friends Sharon and Adam who were both fab.  Sharon was very popular on the dance floor and was at one point spotted being Paso Doble’d around the floor by a very dapper gay man while Adam strutted his stuff with an array of very well synchronized dance moves that were the envy of many.  We sat with Colin and David and had a totally stupendous evening.  I of course couldn’t resist grabbing my camera on many occasions and, sneaking off into the fray, snapped some photos which I will duly process and dispatch to Alan whenever I get a moment to breath, likely when school is finished in mid-December.

And with that it was time for a taxi ride back to the Zig Zag cottage and to bed.  We picked ourselves up, dusted off our jackets, and in no time at all found ourselves back in bed, sleeping the sound sleep of those who have acquitted themselves well on the dance floor.  I don’t know about James but I dreamt fabulous dreams of love, life, friendship, and of winning the mirror ball trophy in Dancing With The Stars/Strictly Come Dancing with a spell binding quickstep that would knock your heels off.  Ah, the stuff of legend!

So with that, dear reader, I bid you farewell.  I’ll post more later in the week.  The blog posts will continue for a while after we return as I try to catch up.   We’ll see you soon!

Big love!

David and James.