Chris Hansen’s blog

Some people say a generation of gay men were lost to HIV. I don’t know your status, but I will say that many gay men born in the 1950s are not here with us today. How did you avoid succumbing to the virus back in the 1980s and such?

I have always been pretty fat, and thus shy. I was never one for the bar/club scene. I had a steady boyfriend when I lived in the Bronx (for most of the time) and mostly didn’t do much on the scene. I may be lucky, for which I am thankful, but I’m also painfully aware that about forty men I knew in the 1970’s through the 1990’s succumbed to HIV, many of them men of colour. James Toms, my co-chair when I was co-chair of Men of All Colours Together/New York, is one whom I miss daily. I am also thankful for the medical advances that have meant that many of my friends who are now positive are still healthy and still with us on this side of eternity.

Would you ever post a butt-booty naked photo of yourself on LJ?

I would never say never, but I don’t see that in my future at the moment. I might trade one privately…

I don’t have anything against bald men. To me, that would be like straight men not liking women who menstruate. It happens, a whole bunch of men bald and I wouldn’t want to exclude them. HOWEVER, American gay male culture can be very snobby and exclusive. Was it tough for you when you started balding? How did you decide against toupees and such? I notice you don’t shave it all off in a Capt. Picard/Michel Foucault type of way either. tell me about that too.

When I was 16, I looked old enough (as my hairline was already beginning to recede) to buy liquor. That was the only time in my adolescence where I was truly popular with my peers. To be honest, I never considered toupees (they all look like drowned rats or raccoons perched on people’s heads unless they cost thousands of pounds/dollars). So I just paid it no attention (I couldn’t see it anyway unless I was in front of a mirror) and let it fall out. If it affected my success in attracting men, it was probably outweighed (pun intended) by my fat as a factor in the husband sweepstakes. I have shaved my head occasionally, but that strategy is very high maintenance, and I often end up with a slashed-up scalp, which isn’t particularly nice. So I just accept it and go to HWMBO’s Barbershop (sic) when I get a bit too shaggy on the sides.

I haven’t lived in New York for nearly 17 years, so perhaps I shouldn’t have an opinion, but it is really sad that the callgirl scandal is putting paid to his career and forcing him to resign (his aides say that will happen later Wednesday). The Repugs have been in control of the State Senate for decades, and it looked at one point like they might lose control to Democrats after the election this November. Now I’m not even sure that the Democrats can keep control of the State Assembly.

The first thing the Democrats will have to do is rally round the new Governor, David Paterson, who would be only the fourth black state governor in US history. He is also legally blind from a congenital condition called optic atrophy. So he’d be the nation’s first blind governor (perhaps he can get in touch with another David, David Blunkett, our former Education/Home/Work and Pensions Secretary here in the UK, who is also blind). He is the son of another New York politician, Basil Paterson, who was Borough President of Manhattan for many years. He’s going to have a lot of stuff dumped on him in the next few hours and he will need help and support. If he then pulls a surprise and captures the State Senate in November, he’ll be a miracle worker. Paterson’s office as Lieutenant Governor will not be filled between now and the next regular gubernatorial election in 2010; until then, the president-pro tem of the State Senate, 78-year-old Joseph Bruno, a Repug, will perform the duties of the Lieutenant Governor, which include acting as Governor when the Governor himself is out of the state.

I gather that the FBI’s attention was drawn to Governor Spitzer through moneylaundering investigations. Again, even though prostitution is illegal (and in giving a callgirl a train ticket to Washington he was also committing a Federal offense under the Mann Act), it was the money that betrayed him in the end–a distinction he shares with Al Capone. The papers seem to imply that if Spitzer resigns, he will most likely be tried and, if convicted, sentenced to no jail time as his disgrace is thought to be punishment enough.

One good thing: no one will be able to tar the Democrats with Spitzer’s activities in November: they are almost unanimous in saying that he must resign and they want nothing to do with him. Contrast that with some Repugs who defended Richard Nixon to the bitter end.

…and I’ve been wondering whether to participate or not. I think I will, but I want to direct it a bit more than just saying Ask me anything!

Here’s a list of questions. Fill in a blank and copy your question to this post. I’ll screen comments. All rights (to not answer any question that might be illegal, immoral, or fattening) reserved.

1. What do you think of ________________?

2. When did you last ____________?

3. __________ or ___________ and why?

4. What did you ______________?

5. What’s your favourite ______________?

6. How would you ______________?

7. Who would you most like to _____________?

Lawrence King, a very young martyr.

Ice cream trucks usually have some nauseating version of a children’s song piping away as they lure the children to their eventual deaths from extreme obesity and diabetes. However, this ice cream truck has a song that is memorable and maddening. It sounds like some Olde Englishe folk tune, and has overtones of a British military march whose name I forget. However, it’s not that. Do any of my musical lj-friends have a clue as to what this is?

…will be of interest to the Christians amongst you.

Hasn’t been a very busy week overall. I had no meetings at all this week, which is, I think, some sort of record for a time when I am not on holiday.

HWMBO’s first week at his new job seemed to go well. I made spaghetti and meatballs (with Mother Hansen’s Spaghetti and Meatballs recipe) and we had that for a couple of days. I thought that I didn’t like wholewheat spaghetti, but as long as you cook it enough it’s tasty when used with something like a tomato sauce. I don’t think I’d like it with butter and cheese.

Continuing on the culinary topic, I then made a stew on Thursday evening. It was a beef stew, and I decided to use one of the cans of Guinness that have been languishing in the fridge for a while as part of the liquid for the stew. It did turn out quite tasty, if I do say so myself.

I am still on the bench at work, so I am going in two days a week and working at home the rest of the time. I went into the office on Thursday to have lunch with Sad

If you’re a firefighter, and you like foam parties, you might find this link interesting. It’s a PowerPoint presentation. Looks like fun! Thanks to David Rowell’s Travel Insider for this link.

…and many happy returns of the day!

On soc.motss, there is occasionally a discussion about the proper plural form of the word “octopus”. “Octopi”, of course, is just NOT ON, and “octopuses” normally wins out over “octopodes” (pronounced ok-TOP-o-deez). But, in this news story, the octopus is not all it should be…and. moreover, the plural form “octopodes” is used. There is hope for journalism!

…and many happy returns of the day!

…and many happy returns of the day!

…and many happy returns of the day!

…is here. Caution: Guts may be busted when watching this clip. Do not watch while drinking coffee or tea at your keyboard: will not be responsible for cleaning keyboards or desktops.

I woke up this morning, came downstairs, ate breakfast, got the computer ready for work (working at home today). Then I looked out the back door, and there was a huddle of clothing on the ground. I opened the door and examined it.

Now, those of you who are Londoners or familiar with London will know that in the morning it’s quite common to see puddles of vomit on the ground, usually from the drunken sots who pour out of the pubs at 11 pm or later. However, this pile of clothing came from someone who was (to be euphemistic) taken short without access to a toilet. It wasn’t badly soiled, but it was, well, shitty (not to mince words). One pair Umbro sweat pants, sixe XXL, and one pair boxer shorts.

Now, being well able to wear and appreciate size XXL sweat pants, I decided that the thing to do was wash them. They are now good as new and drying.

Is this kinky?

Answers on a postcard, please.

Well, you can if you look at this link. Do click through the entire sequence of pages; you’ll be borne up as if on eagle’s wings!

Tonight Goliath Lodge #5595 UGLE conducted a Raising to the Sublime Degree of a Master Mason. Brother Sharma was the candidate, and I am Senior Deacon. For those who are not Masons, in the Second and Third Degree the Senior Deacon conducts the candidate around the Lodge during the ceremony, and is responsible for prompting him at points where he has to do or say things. The Worshipful Master, of course, has a very complicated and intricate part to learn and say during the ceremony, and W. Bro. John performed to perfection! A Grand Lodge officer who was present commended us all for the quality of our ritual. We are all chuffed to bits.

People say that Freemasonry is a cult, is against religion, is sinister. However, in my experience, Freemasonry brings out the best in the men who practice it. How many ordinary guys would you be able to get together in a room to perform an intricate ritual entirely learned by heart? Probably not many. Freemasonry all over the world does it consistently. In fact, they find it puzzling that priests always have the book in front of them when they celebrate the Eucharist. I explained that as consecration of the Body and Blood of Christ is so important, priests are very cautious and wish to do it right, in which case reading the words from the book is much more certain that trying to memorise them (although some priests do).

I shall be Junior Warden next year, and will be responsible for a good bit of the ritual, which I will have to memorise. Our first rehearsal is in two weeks’ time. I must get cracking on the books.

HWMBO had his last day with his current employer today: they gave him a lovely shoulder bag for a laptop and much else besides, and a very nice card. He is nostalgic, but only has four days in which to be nostalgic, as he’ll be working in the new office come Monday.

…has written a book, Son of Scarface, in which he reveals that he is not only Al Capone’s grandson, but that he is gay too. Sounds like an interesting premise, so go and read his website. More information here, and thanks to Towleroad for the heads-up.

…especially if you’re a junior or senior in college, and from Idaho. Those potato-fed guys really make him stand wiiiiiide and deliver!

But hurry, the men’s room^W^Wopportunity is closing soon. Thanks to Kenneth in the 212 for the news article.

In a manner reminscent of Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All To You, here are some stick figure drawings and dialogue that explain the current subprime mortgage mess to everyone’s satisfaction. Thanks to for the link.

…and many happy returns of the day!

Here is a picture of me in my new cassock and cotta, with a biretta for good measure. The picture isn’t very good so I shall get a better one taken next time I’m preaching (Good Friday, I think). They are very comfortable.

February 24, 2008 Third Sunday of Lent
Sermon delivered at St. John the Evangelist, 10 am.
Subject: Humility (Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit)

In the name of God, the one, the Undivided Trinity. AMEN.

The retired Rector of my parish church in San Francisco, California is an amazingly good preacher. Some of the best sermons I

…is by Margaret Cho. Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.

Thanks to for the reference…

For the soc.motsseurs among us, there was an extremely rare event this evening: a three Chris .con. Chris A, , was in town for an Anglican meeting, and Chris W, , who lives in town, joined me for the first Three Chris .con. Pictures were taken, and here are two:

and, with Chris W. moving to the other side of the camera, two Chrisses and an HWMBO:

There was much quotation from Douglas Adams and Monty Python, and we nearly closed the restaurant.

I realise I haven’t updated in a while…boo on me.

Monday through Wednesday at work were pretty forgettable. I cleaned up my email and basically waited to be released. Everyone was polite and some were very complimentary. Tuesday evening we went to Tate Britain to the private showing of the Camden Town Group exhibition. (Walter Sickert is probably the best known of the bunch). I enjoyed it–my criteria for an exhibitions I like is whether I find paintings I’d like to hang in our house. We had dinner beforehand at the local Witherspoon’s pub–before the smoking ban we would not have even considered it. I had a steak (kind of tough) and HWMBO had salmon (which he liked). He had coffee and I had Diet Pepsi. So a very wholesome day indeed.

Wednesday night I had a disagreeable meeting at the Diocese–not because of the participants, because of the occasion. I was a panel member of an appeal tribunal against dismissal of an employee. I can’t say anything about it, but I do hope that it doesn’t happen very often or ever.

Yesterday and today I’m working at home. Last night we went to dinner with my former boss from the Big Investment Bank and his partner; they are also a mixed-race gay couple, Caucasian/Chinese. His partner is from Taiwan, and has been here a few years longer than I have. He is a musician and teacher, and all four of us had a rousing conversation that went on from about 7:30 until 10:30 at a Chinese restaurant on Gerrard Street in Chinatown. The food was good (I ordered stuffed tofu which was fabulous, along with hot and sour soup which was very good). We got through two bottles of Chateauneuf de Pape, which was surprising. We walked to Tottenham Court Road afterwards, us for the number 1 bus, they for the Central Line. We will be meeting again, and I think that out of the wreckage of our involvement with the BIB project, we have salvaged a new friendship, which is always a good thing.

Tonight we’re going out with and , thus forming what soc.motsseurs will refer to as a “three Chris .con”. Pictures will ensue. is visiting from Toronto; he participated in a meeting around detailing successful engagement between the Church and lesbian and gay organisations and people. He was accompanied by an archdeacon and an archbishop (retired). Such august company.

…and HWMBO will be home around 9 pm. I am so happy!

My gig at Morgan Stanley (at least, this particular gig) will be over on Wednesday. It’s been obvious since my boss was canned that there were no stakeholders in London, thus my position was precarious, but it was confirmed, very clumsily, yesterday.

I had previously told the account managers in New York and London that we ought to seek to have me removed from the project, and do it proactively, since it was clear that there would be no role for me to play. However, I had heard nothing (and it wasn’t for want of asking) until Friday, when a catch-up call from my boss started with, “So Wednesday’s your last day, then?” I responded, “I haven’t heard anything about that.” He gulped, and quickly said, “I’ll call you back.” and hung up. I giggled a bit.

Finally he called me back, and we had a short conversation. I mentioned that I would like to be as helpful as I could be over the next three workdays, and we were civil. There are a couple of things I can help out on, I think. Always good to leave with a smile and a wave, as you never know when something else will come up and put you up with them again.

I will go back on the bench; the client manager will be looking for another role at Morgan Stanley, but who knows what will happen? It’s been interesting.

If there is one thing that will start to doom the project, it’s this: the people who are left are not managers, but technocrats. And, as we know, most projects fail not for technical reasons, but for managerial ones. They are now relying on a team of testers in India who are 10-1/2 time zones ahead of New York. There is no way that communication will be smooth and efficient. It has to be well-managed, and I don’t think it will be.

In other news, HWMBO is on the plane flying home even as we speak! Hooray!

…and many happy returns of the day!

I forgot all about the second anniversary of my heart attack on February 7th. I remain relatively without heart discomfort, but have been unable to lose weight and am very annoyed about that. Yoga is good, but I haven’t been for a couple of weeks becuause of my trip to New York and my fall (which made it too painful to use my hands and knees like one has to in yoga).

The second anniversary is that of our Civil Partnership, today, February 14th, Valentine’s Day. It is either our second or our tenth anniversary–we have been together for almost 10 years but only legal for two. HWMBO is in Singapore, so I’m all alone tonight. But we’re together in spirit, anyway.

I got a copy of his standup comedy DVD, Apple Brown Betty. I have been kind of down for the last few days (loneliness, I suppose, as HWMBO is still in Singapore, coupled with all the workdrama), so I popped it into the DVD player, and laughed for the next 30 minutes or so. Five snaps for ! I look forward to the next DVD.

(I know that some of you dislike standup, as one of you has just posted about it, you know who you are!) I think that gay, black, bear, standup comedy is funny, especially ‘s brand of it, and it certainly cheered me up. YMMV, of course.

If you’re interested in reading about it, go here. (P.S. You might even find a source for it there!)

On Friday night, I bartended at the Burns Night at St. John’s, Larcom Street. It wasn’t a serious Scottish Burns Night, but an occasion for friends of St. John’s to get together and sing, have a laugh, eat some haggis (if you like such things), and have a drink or three (wine only on the alcoholic side, plus OJ and soda). We had a sing-along, mostly old music hall numbers like “Doing the Lambeth Walk”. The church took in more than

What the heck is this “{Fill in a reference here} of the now” that lots of LiveJournals are captioning pictures with lately? Is it a USan cultural reference that is escaping me? Or am I just dim?

…comes from the StarGazette of Elmira, NY:

See the Hangovers at Trinity Episcopal Church

As part of its 175th anniversary celebration, Trinity Episcopal Church in Elmira will offer a performance by the Hangovers, an a cappella choir made up of members of the Cornell University Glee Club.

Aw, shux, I thought that we were finally living up to our Babtist nickname of “Whiskeypalians”.

Thanks to the Rev’d T S, TX, for the cite (and the Whiskeypalian reference).

Has anyone else been getting a raft of new scame from the 419ers? I have, and two today were quite funny, unintentionally.

X-Apparently-To: chrishansenhome at btinternet dot com
Fri, 08 Feb 2008 14:23:08 +0000
Authentication-Results: mta815.mail.ukl.yahoo.com

I have now figured out what the BIB (=Big Investment Bank) layoffs mean to our project. At the time I was engaged, the project manager was in London. Now that he has been laid off, and the new project manager is located in New York, there is no need for a QA Manager in the London office. It is difficult to hear things going on in meetings due to BIB’s crap infrastructure around teleconferencing. The new project manager is an insecure manager and an inexperienced project manager. He issues orders to my people himself rather than asking me to get a task done (and we were engaged to provide a service, not supply bodies to be at BIB’s beck and call).

I am recommending to my management that they remove me from the project and put an equivalent into the New York office. And no, that will not be me.

Doesn’t bother me very much, as I keep getting enquiries from job recruiters. But it would have been an interesting project, so it’s sad that it’s come to this.

A beautiful kitty picture, behind the cut.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!

Happy Year of the Rat!

There have been changes at work, and it looks rather unfortunate. My boss has been made redundant and been replaced by someone in New York. There will be a bit of … um … learning involved, as he seems to be a technical whiz, not a management whiz. This is every manager’s worst nightmare. We will see how it goes, but it seems that it might be more challenging in the form of trying to supply him with information rather than letting me get on with managing the QA process. Argh! If the engagement turns into a bodyshopping project (one where the client does all the managing, just requiring test analysts from us) then I will probably be removed from the project simply because I will no longer be needed. No skin off my nose, as I get paid whether I’m on a site or not, but the project is interesting so I’d be a bit upset if I had to leave.

This afternoon, after work, I had an appointment with Raja the Tailor. Raja is a Hong Kong company (run by Indians, however) which travels around the great cities of the world selling tailor-made suits. They take your measurements, you pay, and then they send you one suit later on (which you try on; if it’s good, then they send the others if you’ve ordered more than one). I got two shirts and three suits, one of which will be suitable for Masonic functions and the other two suitable for work.

I won’t tell you how much I paid for them, but it’s well into 4 figures. They are an investment in good dressing that will pay dividends at job interviews, if such were to happen.

The bad thing is that, on the way (it’s a short walk from my current place of work) I tripped and fell flat on my knees and palms on the pavement. My knees still ache and my palms are still red and sore. There are no bruises that I can see, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some appeared by tomorrow. Rats! I will probably have to forego yoga tomorrow if it’s still uncomfortable.

I have decided to give up caffeine and see whether it has an effect on my blood sugar. I’m hoping it does, because giving up caffeine would be preferable to the needle. There have been news reports lately that suggest it may have an effect. I shall lay in some decaffeinated espresso coffee tomorrow and start using that in the morning. I love my coffee, but the caffeine may be so bad for me that giving it up is the only way forward.

Made a cream of potato soup yesterday according to a recipe. It was quite, um, stiff, almost but not quite batterlike. So today, when I reheated it, I added a cup of chicken stock. It is now edible and I have one more bowl for tomorrow. Note to the person who sent me the recipe: ditch the garlic: garlic and milk do not really do well together, in my opinion. I shall leave it out the next time I make it.

For , you are not the only refugee from Los Angeles around…watch out Sacramento, because the Everywhere Girl’s on her way!

First, we have the meeting of and

Then, we have spooky mannequins in a shop window close to where I was staying:

and, finally the Statue of Liberty against the red sky at night, which is a sailor’s delight, they say:

Still jetlagged, I should head for bed.

…that I forgot to upload. The winter evening sky at the Borough, just north of me.

Friday was a rather unfortunate day at work. The Big Investment Bank’s employees were still shell-shocked from the redundancies that had happened the previous day. I was told that there were not only security guards present to escort the unfortunates out, but also paramedics as some people had collapsed. The human face of capitalism! These bankers, now that they have lost a goodly amount of money through mis-selling of subprime mortgage securities, are now rendering their own people, many of whom had nothing to do with the problem, jobless. It is a scandal and a shame (which opinion is why, yet again, this is behind a friends filter).

I had a meeting with the client’s honchos and my own test managers in the afternoon. Instead of being allowed to manage testing, the two test managers are now going to have to actually do testing themselves. One of them has never done any testing; I hired him on the basis of his project management skills and records. I feel really bad for him. In addition, the client is now treating our people as simply bodies to be moved around and assigned at their own whim. This is not what we thought when we started the project.

The man who is replacing D, the laid-off boss in London, is a technical whiz but probably not a management whiz, and he doesn’t know much, if anything, about testing. I feel bad for him. The only good thing about this is that the woman in the project management office who has been a thorn in my side since September was also laid off. She was laid up at home with a broken leg on the mend. I wonder whether they texted her, or perhaps send a security guard to her home to recover the laptop…

Friday night I took M and S, my test managers, out to V and T’s Restaurant on Morningside Heights, as they had expressed a desire for Italian food. The place was the same as ever, and the food was good: M and I had Chicken Parmigiana, and S had a jalapeno pizza, small. When it arrived, he looked at it (14″ in diameter) and said, “This is small?” He only ate two slices and took the rest home with him.

We talked about the project, about how they were faring in New York, and the like. S brought out the pictures of his children and wife (they have a girl and a boy). Up until then I hadn’t liked S much, as he is a bossy guy who doesn’t know where he fits in the organisation and talks too much in meetings. My heart softened when I saw the pictures. S will be in New York for up to 18 months, and his family will only visit for one or two months. Otherwise he’ll be alone. He told me that my employer’s Indian employees all had their salaries cut two out of the last three years because the company hadn’t met its targets! In addition, if S quits the company while he is in the US, he will owe them 1.5 million rupees. If he quits up to 6 months after he gets back to India, he’ll owe them 500,000 rupees. I’m too tired to do the math but it’s quite a tidy sum for a normal employee.

I packed Friday night, and took a cab to JFK Saturday morning. I was going to take SkyTrain, but as I’ve never done that before I thought I’d better not try it. The cab’s meter was “broken” and I culdn’t get a receipt. I suspect that the driver pocketed the entire fare. Well, I was at the airport by that time and didn’t want to fuss. Got my boarding pass printed at the kiosk, no problem, dropped off my bag, security was a relative breeze, and I saw and waited for the plane.

There were only 40 people on the plane, total (not including the cabin attendants). I moved to a window seat with no one sitting in the row, and enjoyed the colours of the clouds as the sun went down and I listened to music. My iPod seems to be back in shape. They had a full breakfast for me, and then a snack just before we landed. The food was better this way than it was going over. Took Heathrow Express and a taxi home, but was a bit taken aback at the receipt I got from the taxi driver:

Unpacked, and now to bed, quite a bit late.

I went into work this morning, and brushed off the training, which is at a level way too technical for what I need. Around 9:00 I got on a conference call that we have every week. One of the participants came on and said that the call was cancelled today. I said, “Hooray, one less meeting.” A few minutes later, I got a call from D, my Big Investment Bank boss. He said, “I’m calling to say that I’m no longer working on the project. I’ve been made redundant.” (=US “laid off”)

Jesus Christ on a stick! I like D, he’s quite a good test manager as well as an all-round good guy, also gay with a Chinese partner. I don’t know what will happen with the project, or how I’ll fit in (I am a consultant, so if the project is cancelled or delayed, I still have a job.)

So we gathered that today was Layoff Day at Big Investment Bank, which has lost billions of dollars through bad securitised mortgage investments. Not content with screwing the little guy, they are now screwing their own employees.

Then I went to Staten Island for dinner with Barnett and Nick, two long-standing friends. I enjoyed the steak and the Peroni beer, and then came back to the hotel to crash. The new Staten Island Ferry terminal is very handsome.

Got an early morning message that HWMBO had arrived safely in Singapore. I hope he’s doing OK jetlagwise. I’m just about over it. Unfortunately, I’m back in London on Saturday and the whole wake up at inconvenient times and go to sleep at inconvenient times will continue.

Went to work and was confronted by one of my test managers. I have been having meetings all week with various people I need to get to know. Nothing important was conveyed except for one. However, my associate is a bit unhappy that I didn’t bring him along to these meetings. WTF? His contention is that we are working as a team so he has to be in on all these meetings. I guess it’s a cultural thang. I tried to explain to him the way things work over here (you only go to meetings at which you can make a contribution or get some information, otherwise, you rely on your boss who goes to those meetings to tell you anything you need to know and ask you for any information s/he needs) but he was not impressed. His body language is radiating hostility (crossed arms, lean back in chair, and such) and I’m struggling. I’ve asked for some advice from other people on how to deal with this and hopefully it will work. Otherwise, it’s back to India for him.

Lots of meetings and stuff, won’t bore you with that. After work, I went to Penn Station to get my ticket to New Jersey to dine with Dr. Louie Crew, my friend of 20 years and a great man. I stopped off at Duane Reade to get various things I will want to take back like soap, large bottle of mouthwash, some candy to put out for the office, etc. Went to wait for the train after dropping by the hotel room to change. They had put out bars of soap, which was hopeful (I had to remind them after they forgot yesterday.

The area for boarding trains for New Jersey is absolutely bizarre. There are smallish bronze doors down to the tracks. When the train track is announced, a huge crowd forms around the door and, like a funnel, people try to get down to the track. It takes quite a while, and then you get to the train itself, which has no open doors! They wait for lots of people to crowd the platform and THEN open the doors. The train was clean and absolutely packed. A very cute black guy sitting across the aisle was talking on his cellphone first to his girlfriend and then to his wife. Quite amusing.

Louie took me to a Mexican bar for a margarita (mine without salt, his with) and then to his favourite steakhouse for dinner. We talked over people we’d known, things that are going on in the Church both here and worldwide, swapped stories that I can’t relate here, and the like. I was very surprised to hear that my former Area Dean, Giles Goddard, will be around here Friday for a meeting. Perhaps he’ll stay in this hotel (it’s quite convenient for the meeting area) and I’ll bump into him in the lobby.

What a wonderful and inspirational man Louie is! The time flew by, and before I knew it I was back waiting for the train to New York. Then walk to the hotel and fall into bed. Two more full days and then back home.

Work was, work. I am getting increasingly worried about the project for various reasons, including chaotic project management, changing course before the project has well and truly begun, and a reluctance to acknowledge that more good planning needs to go into the project. All the people involved are real technical whizzes, but, well, the status meeting yesterday was probably the most chaotic and unfocussed meeting I’ve ever been in.

The receptionist was especially good in getting me a desk for the entire week. When I went downstairs for lunch, I noted a chocolatier in the basement. So I bought her a box of chocolates in appreciation. She was delighted, and I felt good in showing my appreciation. More about this later though.

I went back to my hotel room after work, changed, and went up to Morningside Heights to visit John and then go to dinner with him and another friend, Jerry. John used to live downstairs from me when I lived in the Bronx. He is a priest, recently retired from the Archdiocese of New York and enjoying his retirement. I brought him a gift: a pamphlet that he’d asked me to get for him, and we met his cat, a lovely white cat with black patches on her back and ears. As is appropriate in Manhattan, we had a Manhattan each, and then took the subway up to 231st St. to meet Jerry and have dinner at the Piper’s Kilt, a restaurant that we used to frequent in the “old days”. Jerry was outside, smoking before going into the restaurant/pub/bar.

Jerry is also a priest, and my oldest friend–he was a college classmate at Columbia. He’s a few months older than I am, but I’m finding increasingly that as much of an old fart that I am, he is fartier. He has few close friends, I think, is pretty solitary, doesn’t read the newspapers and is ignorant about all sorts of news things that one would expect him to be interested in.

We got burgers and onion rings, and a beer apiece. John and I chatted about the “old days” in the neighbourhood, as one does. Jerry contributed, but in an old-farty kind of sour way. When I related my giving of chocolates to the receptionist, he said that no one does that any more for fear of being accused of being sexist or “coming-on to” the employee. Is that true in the US? If so, what tosh! The music was too loud, and I think he is getting deaf a bit, as he had difficulty hearing what John and I were saying, even though I was sitting next to him.

As I always do, I invited Jerry to stay with us in London if he wanted to travel. He said, “I have sleep apnea and sleep with a machine…I don’t travel much any more. Good for celibacy though.” Oh my.

John and I went on to a crazy bar in Inwood where the band was beginning to play–more noise. I had an Irish ale called Smethwick’s. It was quite good. We walked to Dyckman Street and took the number 1 train home. Whew!

HWMBO is on the plane to Singapore even as we speak. I miss him even more than I have already, because he won’t be home when I get back on Saturday. I am sad. I can’t wait until he comes back in February.

Sunday at 11 am I was compos mentis enough to attend the Church of the Holy Apostles on 28th and 9th Avenue. Unluckily, it was the Sunday of their annual meeting, so I didn’t get to schmooze much. The liturgy there is very Hebrews 13:8, but the news that the Rector is retiring in July was a surprise. Somehow I thought he’d go on forever. We chatted (I hadn’t departed the parish in good temper with him, but that was in 1990 and 18 years is a long long time and a galaxy very far away). There is one parishioner whom I remember; she is English (but a war bride) and 86 years young; we chatted away for quite a while.

Then on to brunch with my friend David H. David is timelessly young and cool and even kewl. We found a Turkish restaurant at which I had soup and two appetisers, and talked and talked. What I didn’t do is have the waitress take a picture…I am so silly sometimes. Must have been jetlag.

That evening I took my two Indian assistant QA managers, who had arrived in New Jersey the day before from India, to dinner. I thought to myself, “Well, I’ll take them to 6th Street between First and Second Aves., where all the Indian restaurants are. WRONG!!! They are all Bangladeshi restaurants, of course (like most “Indian” restaurants in the UK), but even my assistants didn’t twig to that, and chose a restaurant called the “Taj Mahal”. The food was awful, they tried to feed beef to a Hindu, and another of them got an upset tummy from it somewhat later. I have learned my lesson. Take people to restaurants you yourself are familiar with, not to ones that seem to be of their ethnic food. There also weren’t any other subcontinental people in that restaurant. We should have known right away.

Monday was the first day at work. Found my way around, discovered that the receptionist was, as is often the case, one of the nicest people in the place: she found me a desk after all the other desks were taken as there had been a mixup. I bought her a box of chocolates today in thanks. Always good to give tangible thanks to people who are nice to you. It pays dividends.

Last night I went to dinner with , whom I had never met before. What a wonderful smile and grin he has! He is really so nice and full of smiles that even though I was jetlagged I was uplifted. We went to a Japanese buffet, which he swore had things other than fish. Did they! It was wonderful! I didn’t overeat, even though karen, our server, professed herself to be unhappy that we didn’t eat more. We talked about immigration, New York, gay life, lovers, ex- and current, and all sorts of things. I am so grateful to LiveJournal, as I have met so many lovely people though it that I would never have met otherwise.

I’m about to leave for dinner with my old friend Jerry and almost as old friend John up in the Bronx at the Piper’s Kilt pub. More later, as it happens.

There will be a pic of myself and as the waitress duly obliged us.

…barely. I got off to a good start in London, as I got through bag drop off and security in record time. Then we got on the plane and the fun started.

I’ve often complained about British Airways’s food, and this time was no different. The cabin attendant (Scottish) came down the aisle offering the entree, and when he got to me I thought he said “Chicken casserole or fresh pie.” “Fresh pie!” I thought, “I could use some beef right now.” Well, it wasn’t fresh pie he was offering, it was FISH pie! What a shock. Luckily, as it was British Airways, the fish tasted nothing like fish so I could choke it down.

Then I went to sleep. I was in an aisle seat. A married couple (youngish) sat next to me. Suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder. It was the cabin attendant, asking me to move so that the married couple could troop to the toilet. I told them, “Please, if you need to get up, you can wake me up. You don’t need to get a higher authority to do it.” They were sheepish, in more ways than one.

I had tried to get my iPod Nano going. I selected a song, and it froze. Nothing I pressed would unfreeze it. So I was convinced it was broken. (In the hotel room, I found that if I connected it to my laptop the computer booted the iPod so it now seems OK again.) Not a great flight, with no decent music.

However, I found that they were running an old episode of Yes, Prime Minister, the one where the PM moans about what an absolute evil man his predecessor was. Then the news comes in that his predecessor has just died. Then a Simpsons, and the pilot of Ugly Betty. I loved! it. I want more!

We got here, I took a cab into town ($45 plus tip and tolls), and to my room at the Holiday Inn Express on W. 29th St. Nice room, low on the amenities but big. Went to Moonstruck Restaurant on 23rd and 9th for dinner; yet again, I’m bamboozled by the huge American portions. And the meatloaf tasted like they put nutmeg or allspice in it (which they probably did). Back to my room to read and write this post. Now to bed. Hoping to go to dinner with Monday night, after the torture at work begins.

As I’m going to be travelling (or panicking while packing) tomorrow, I thought I’d get a head start on tomorrow’s birthday. Many happy returns of the day, tomorrow!

On January 24th, 1994, I arrived in London straight from Los Angeles and the Northridge earthquake, and began my work for Quantime the very next day with a course in software inspection. So today I begin my 15th year here in London, and tomorrow I’m off to New York for a week.

…I finally retrieved my cassock and cotta from Parcelforce today. It was sent early this month, but Parcelforce continually tried to deliver it (or said they did) but did not leave a card. Thus, I didn’t know they had been doing this until the vestment company called to ask whether I’d received it. We determined that Parcelforce should try delivery to St. Matthew’s Church next door, and they assured us that they would (on the 15th) but never bothered. Yesterday they delivered it to the church and I picked it up before going off to my Business Committee of Bishop’s Council meeting and ‘s birthday party. It fits, although the cassock itself is just about 1/4″ too long and drapes almost to the floor. The cotta is quite long too and has a single row of lace–no miles of tat for me! The cassock has a closed collar as I don’t particularly care for the open collar on people who are not clergy–lots of the gubbinses underneath show through.

I will ensure that HWMBO takes a picture of me wearing the outfit plus the biretta that St. John’s clergy and servers usually wear. I haven’t worn a cassock for almost thirty years now.