Duckie Report

Another absolutely splendid Duckie!



We went down to Peckham to have food and drinks and fun with some friends, at an event organised to exploit the presence upon these shores of a friend from Iowa. Despite the torrential downpour that suddenly broke over us, we all managed to make it to Duckie to maximise our friend's enjoyment of London. Five of the Duckie Six were there and Simon was very sharply suited as if to make up for the absence of the legendarily well tailored Father Cloth.


We had two cabarets and the second was a German chap called Noisy Pig who had lots of multimedia stuff going on: pumping eurobeats, projection of images behind him, comedy eyewear. It was fine. But the first of the cabarets was venerable septuagenarian Bette Bourne reminiscing about Quentin Crisp, apparently an old friend, and giving us some of the great man's lines, delivered with the same withering crispness. I was fortunate to have met Quentin years back and to have seen him do his own show and I have to say Bette did an exemplary job, in my peripheral opinion. You could have heard a pin drop in the RVT and that doesn't often happen at Duckie. Marvellous!


Our friends had all gone the other side of the Activity Island to have a fashion model makeover from Amy, celebrating 25 years of British Fashion Week or something. Amy worked fast and everyone came away even more glamorous than before. The only downside was, for me, that I had recommended the Norwegian Nazi Zombie horror film Dead Snow to Kim Phaggs in the past and he had since watched it and found it wanting! I love his musical tastes but clearly that doesn't correlate with our respective film tastes. I really liked Dead Snow! Hey ho.

We all ended up back on our roof terrace, fortunately only a short trot in slingbacks from Duckie, annoying the neighbours and draining the alcohol from the fridge. I went slightly mad with the cheese and mushrooms on toast but it was all eaten. What a great, great night! Still had one friend with us this morning. We went round the corner to The Oval Lounge for an English Sunday roast, with another friend from close by, and damn fine that was too. In bed early tonight and taking life easily after a mofo of a weekend! Brilliant though :)))

And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye

Family fun and frolics last night, with the traditional bucketloads of alcohol. Baby sister and I sat up till 3, putting the world to rights. Had a great time looking through her old photo albums. Several pictures of a party she was at twenty five years ago or so and devilishly handsome chap in several of them. I quite fancied him. Then realised, with a shock, that he was me. By Jove, I was a shag in my youth! I tell people that all the time but I'm not sure I really believed it till now. I certainly didn't believe it then. Happy times though! Happier in retrospect, perhaps, when all the Angst and wrong-turn-relationships are in the distant past and the messy detail forgotten. Hope one of my geekette nieces will scan and upload the old photos.

I would like to take some photos of the splendid view of woodlands I have here from my sister's (rather chilly, have to say) sitting room window. Or perhaps a pic of her big handsome dog, asleep at my side. Sadly, having been entrusted with Queer Royale's second best camera, I used it to take a couple of blurry shots from the train yesterday and have since broken it, I think. Crap with gadgets and machines, me.

My younger niece, who used to be the noisiest and messiest girl on the block, has become a bit of a Hausfrau and had done a great job of tidying up her room for me, changing bedsheets etc. I was impressed and slept like a baby, although I was wide awake by the time she and her big sister were getting up and out to school. I seem to have become infected with Queer Royale's inability to sleep more than five hours at a stretch. Here at Château Soeur Cadette, there's the complication of a big dog and two sleek Siamese joining me in the bed, which is actually quite a treat. Reminds me of when our own cats were kittens and they would sleep in the bed with us.

So, the plan for today is to have shower in the en suite when my sister's up and about and then will go to meet my parents for lunch in town. Will be a job getting my Dad into his wheelchair and out of the house but a welcome adventure for him. No plans for after that, although I have suggested to my sister that she might help me buy a frock to wear to Liverpool is Burning*. I'm planning to achieve a (slightly ursine) Jackie O look that might fit either Retrosexual or Femme Realness categories. I'll have to sashay with style because Queer Royale is intending to be my (Kid Creole) pimp for the night, in his loud shoes and sharp hat. All I have collected of my outfit thus far is the shoes, so I better crack on! Coming back to the scene of my tortured, closeted adolescence has given me the urge to be as queer as humanly possible!

*Link to Simon Strange explaining what vogueing is, as he wears an attractive hair slide to demonstrate femme realness. Bless. The Cuteness of Being Earnest.