On Thursday I had the day off of work so I did some work for the gallery favourite talk that I wanna do for work, so i took a trip to the Imperial War Museum.
Ordinarily i love museums, i can spend all day happily reading and admiring the exhibits (of course it helps if they have interactive parts so i can indulge my inner child!) But there's something so sad and mournful about the war museum. I guess thats to be expected really. I mean its not like war is a happy picnic and kite flying session is it?
Looking at the room full of Victoria Crosses (including one of my talk subject - funnily enough, as I've discovered that the picture they have of him, isnt really him!) and in the main foyer they have an exhibit on the recent TV production of My Boy Jack which starred Daniel Radcliffe and they have loads of parts of guns and tanks and aircraft, and its filled with kids pretending to shoot them and men reliving their childhoods and it made me sad somehow to think about it all, that people were killed and injured and they (visitors not the museum) were making a joke out of it, and not treating them with respect I guess.
I couldnt face looking around the rest of it so I got the info I needed and hurried off to meet Welshy.

My Mother is slowly starting to relent on the Welshy part of my life and curiosity is beginning to get the better of her (only 2 years after I first met him, one year after we started going out and 2 months since I told her about him!) I think soon she'll ask to meet him which alternately scares the hell out of me and is something I want to do.
Anyway we checked into a hotel as we do and hung out for two days, it was nice, I could pretend that we lived together and i was coming home to him from work and gay girly stuff like that.
We went to Pizza Hut together and took supplies from sainsburys to the room and laughed and chatted and caught up.

I like hanging about with him, he's my best friend and one of the very few people I can feel i can be myself about, i dont feel the need to hide my occasional spacky moments where i trip over my own feet and walk into walls, i can tell him about the often random and fantastically illogical thoughts and fantasies that go in and out of my head and i can curl up and lean on his chest and feel safe and comforted in a way that i dont ever feel elsewhere.

Anyway. can you guys believe its a year since NZ? This time last year I'd done my sky tower jump, and spent two days clambering about in a cave. Awesome.