Queer Writing for a Queer World
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Simon is waiting out the days until he leaves for university, but his mother doesn’t want him to stay in bed all day. She nags him until he gets out of bed, and he decides to get out of the house and her nagging.
His favourite pastime is cycling, so Simon dons his Lycra and gets out on the road. Unfortunately, an accident on a riverside path led him to land on a fisherman’s tackle.
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Autumn has arrived, and the evenings are drawing near. The days are getting shorter, and the central heating is on. After some torrential rain recently, we are slowly drying up. It’s been a difficult time over the last few months, but things are looking up. The talking therapy I have been having has helped, and I am incredibly grateful to the NHS for the help they have given me.
It has been nice to feel my old self (no pun intended), and I am working better and enjoying my free time. I hope you’ll all be pleased to hear I’ve started writing again. This time, there is no new series, as I didn’t want to start a new one. The pressure to complete it can be overwhelming, and I hate starting a multi-part story only to find that it is abandoned. But I have written some short stories I hope to share soon.
So, please keep checking back, and those who are subscribed will get an email to let you know when I post anything new. If you aren’t subscribed, then sign up to receive notifications.
Finally, thanks to all of you. I may not have responded to emails, but that doesn’t mean you don’t mean the world to me. Thanks.
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Ben’s time in France is coming to an end, but it is not the end of his fun. Unfortunately he feels the wrath of Mr Fisher as he takes it too far. To get back on his good side, Ben helps take down a tent and load up the coach. But Ben wants a memento of this time and gets his mates to sign his Speedo. The first to sign is his new friend, Yves.
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I’ve been quiet for the past couple of months, and I am finally starting to feel better. I’ve been up and down for over six months as I tried to manage my depression myself, but it got to the point where I had to reach out to NHS Talking Therapy for help.
I can’t underestimate how good they have been and how responsive they were; they didn’t put me on a never-ending waiting list. Just the act of reaching out was the start of my recovery. I’ve only had a few sessions, but we’ve already identified trigger points and my behaviours. My counsellor also explained that cutting yourself from the rest of the world is perfectly normal. I have to admit that it is my main coping mechanism.
I’ve received some positive comments over the last few months, which I have not responded to. I always feel guilty for not responding, but during the dark days, I can’t, even though they are positive. I doubtless have lost a lot of goodwill from my readers over the years for my self-enforced silence.
It’s important we take away the stigma of mental illness, and when I feel up to it, I like to let you all know why I’ve been quiet. If I haven’t responded to any emails or comments, I hope you understand, but I appreciate you all and the support you give me.
I’ve also started writing again! I hope to deliver the conclusion of Ben’s story in France soon. I’ve also got loads of ideas floating around my head, and I need to write them down.
Thank you for all your support and patience.
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We are in the middle of Wimbledon Fortnight, and like every year, I find myself watching tennis. I’m not big on sports, but there are some major tournaments that I like to tune into. Wimbledon is one, the Olympics is another, and a few more.
I enjoy the days I work from home, doing things on my laptop while I watch two sweaty men grunting as they hit their bright yellow balls. I wonder why it grabs my attention!
Every year, when Wimbledon starts, I get an idea to write a story about it, specifically about the ball boys. Every year, it sparks my brain, and a story drifts in my imagination. But every year, it’s too late. I can’t get a story written and edited quickly, especially when I have another story on the go that demands my attention. So, alas, there is no tennis story this year, yet again.
One day, I will write it. Those ball boys are very adept at handling balls. It’s a story that teases me every year, and one day, I hope to tease you all with it. Until that day arrives, enjoy Wimbledon, the white dress code that hints at what is underneath, the unreliable British weather and perhaps some Pimms or strawberries and cream.
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Ben watches Charlie head to the ablution hut and can’t resist following. It is his last chance to feel Charlie inside him. He meets Pete and Andy showing the evidence of what they got up to in their shared cubicle.
Afterwards, Ben returns to the shop to meet Yves, who tells him more about Cockaigne-Sur-Mer and the other towns called Cockaigne. Ben is amazed that one exists in England as he’s never heard of it.
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Ben and Calvin leave the beach to get some food, but both are hungry for something else. After cleaning up, they go to the shop at the campsite, where they meet a young man called Yves. Ben finds a leaflet about the nude beach they have been going to, and Yves tells them a little more about the place.
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The day before they leave camp, Charlie, the coach driver, must have a statutory rest day. This means no boring excursions and no trip to the beach. The students have to make their own fun at the nearby lake. But the fun Ben wants isn’t just swimming and playing games.
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A trip to a local vineyard splits the group, and Ben and his friends are left at the beach. This time, they have three girls with them, wanting them to make good on their promise of going to the nude beach. When they get settled, the nude beach offers them more freedom, and they become emboldened to satisfy their desires.
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I know I’ve been a little distant recently and unresponsive, so I’d like to thank all of you who have left comments, especially from new contributors. I’ve now read them and appreciate them. I love the ones where you tell me your experiences.
It has been a stressful few weeks lurching from one family issue to another, and I seem to be the one who helps and supports the others. But it has had a detrimental effect on my mental health, and I’ve been trying to hold things together. The sleepless nights are the worst; your mind runs rampant, and you are left feeling tired all day.
I’ve decided that now is the time to look after myself and give myself permission to be a little selfish. I’ve not written anything for several weeks and want to start writing again. I need to finish the story of Ben Masters and his camping trip in France, and I’m eager to start some new stories that have been swimming around my head.
It’s a bank holiday weekend, so I’m hoping the extra day off on Monday will help me recharge my batteries, and I’ll be posting the next instalment of Ben’s French adventure shortly.
Thank you all. You are the best, and I appreciate all your support.