Jenni, I don't know how old she is, in her sixties, maybe, with a stately figure, likes bright colours. She's wearing a persimmon-coloured top, her nails, done this afternoon, are neon green. I tell her how much I like them. She drums them on the table and says, They’re fun, aren't they. They are. It's… Continue reading Woman with moustache
A man, Sharon, comes over. He's wearing a kippa, which I find quite sexy. He doesn't want me to wait for him outside. I later learn this is because he's nervous of what people would think, an older man meeting a younger man. He doesn't look it, but he is only sixteen years younger than… Continue reading Still dry
I moved into my flat today. I’m living in my apartment in Tel Aviv with my things around me. Most of it remains packed, as if by Christo. It is chaos. My new home is half the size of where I lived in London, where I had twice as much stuff as that flat could… Continue reading The museum of me
Le’al tells me that she’s returning to Toronto in a month to finish her law studies. Her husband will follow her in a year, when he’s given a visa. She says she finds it difficult to make friends, which surprises me. She is a gorgeous girl, friendly, sweet, clever. We talk about keeping in touch and… Continue reading Se-juice me!
The first day back after Pesach and I bunked off from the ulpan. I was awake before the alarm rang, but, well, I just didn’t want to go. I slept for another hour, before showering, dressing and going to Lechem Vehaverim. Yesterday’s bread binge wasn’t enough. My first croissant for over a week tasted very… Continue reading Loop de loop
Many, many, gay men and women in town. More, even, than usual. Rainbow flags everywhere; hanging from balconies, flying from lampposts, in café windows. If this isn’t the gayest city in the world it is, at least, trying to be. After breakfast at the Nahat I walked to Meir Park, off King George, where it all… Continue reading Pride
I took Nathan, Megan and Rufina to the Museum of Modern Art. It was a bit like a school trip. We met at the Nahat and they were all oddly nervous. Maybe they’ve never been to a gallery before. They wittered about ‘modern’ art. They seemed especially nervous of ‘conceptual’ art. I can't imagine what… Continue reading Art attack