Fiona's just arrived, and we're having a lovely catch up over a cup of tea. It was the second Eurovision semi-final tonight, and, by and large, the right songs went through to the final. We watched it over salad and nachos with Abbie. In our view, tonight was all about the Australian entry. I chuckle to myself every time I think about the fact that Australia are now competitors in the Eurovision Song Contest. I don't quite know how it managed to happen. One day they were keen observers, the next, they were in it for "one year only" and now they seem to be in it for the long haul! It is, without doubt, one of the most eccentric things to ever occur in the most eccentric competition in the world!
So, if you're on Facebook, I heartily recommend that you type the following into your address bar:
This will take you to "hidden" messages, which come from people who aren't your official friends on the site. I was astounded to find heaps and heaps of messages of good will sent to me and Nathan after the wedding two years ago, and then another set of messages from Australians after our wedding was broadcast over there. I then found messages from people I thought I'd lost touch with, including old friends from the Northamptonshire music school and a number of distant relatives. There was also a message from someone who is now actually dead. It was the last message he ever sent to me and I never received it.
There was also one of those astounding messages you occasionally get from strangers, brimming over with tragic homophobia. It came from a tit called Nick Smith, whom I don't know, but, for some reason he decided to contact me after the wedding to say: "as an older man I don't like queers. You disgust me. Cant [sic] you take a tablet or something to make you normal? Why on earth do you prefer your own sex. Very strange." Oddly I didn't feel any anger towards him. Just a sense of sadness that anyone could be that behind the times. Nathan wanted me to publish this Nick Smith chap's profile so that all of our friends could send him angry messages. I don't think Mr Smith needs any more reasons to hate gay people. Sending him those sorts of comments would merely reinforce his sense of anger.
I just like the idea that he read about our marriage - or saw it on the telly - and thought, "I know. I'll drop him a personal little message to tell him what a sick bastard he is..." How did he think I would react? What did he want me to say? "Oh you're right. Find me a tablet and I'll un-gay myself..."
I got some lovely messages following my talk yesterday in Macclesfield, including one from a parent who wanted to tell me how inspired both she and her daughter had been by what I'd said. #warmglow
The rest of the day was spent rushing from pillar to post. We went up to Alexandra Palace to record my little video clip for the film I've got the Brass cast making, which I came home and edited with Nathan. It looks rather good I think. I hope the people it's heading to appreciate what we've done and that the wall of silence you often get in these instances doesn't gradually appear. Or worse still, that we don't receive that dreadful letter you often get which starts "Dear Applicant" and ends "the standard was very high, and unfortunately we're not in the position to be able to offer you any feedback on your application..." (Despite the fact that they've asked you to leap through countless hoops whilst applying to them!)
We did our shopping at Tesco for this Saturday's Eurovision Party, went to the gym and then spoke to Brother Edward and Sascha in Stockholm on FaceTime. They were at the UK Eurovision party over there and looked resplendent in their union flag sports jackets.
...And then Abbie arrived, and the Eurovision joy began...