I write my columns on a Tuesday, but I had to pop this in today to tell you about what just happened to me because I feel like nobody is taking me seriously. I ordered some bits for my nieces birthday from Amazon which arrived this morning. They arrived…into my house. Like, the delivery driver opened my front door and popped all the packages inside my hallway. Inside. Not on the porch. Not ringing the doorbell. But opening the front door and leaving them inside. I am half surprised he didn’t stick the kettle on and help himself to the vegan snack bars in the cupboard. As suspected, Amazon have been absolutely no help and instead asked me why I haven’t selected a safe place for the driver to leave things. I can hand on heart tell you that in a month of Sundays, my selected safe place would NOT BE INSIDE MY HOUSE.
Anyway, to the column.
The world is slowly returning back to normal and I am enjoying the transition period, on a personal level. I hope whoever went out over the weekend really enjoyed themselves, practiced caution where caution should be practiced and most of all, I hope you had a jägerbomb or three for me. I would have joined the masses in the great return to the pub this weekend, however I have no social life and no friends. So that plan was scuppered. Instead, I spent my weekend planning the rest of my year and staying on FaceTime until 4 in the morning. Maybe I do have a social life after all. I do love a good FaceTime, reader. I think I love FaceTime more than I love actual face to face time, you know? During the great Zoom pandemic of 2020, I attended a total of one quizzes. (I came second, just for the record). They just weren’t for me. There was too many people and I just sat there drinking gin and quietly participating. But you get me on a one to one FaceTime and I am at my best. I finally booked tickets to get away for a night too. I mean, I am obviously going to see someone, but I am definitely also seeing it as a staycation. You’ll catch me on the wet British beach tanning my white bites and sitting in the garden with a Pornstar Martini until the early hours. It just feels like the world is slowly resuming after being on pause for a few months.
I can’t help but feel, however, that as we hit play once again, we are in that interactive Black Mirror episode. The one where you have to pick what happens next in the story. We now have an opportunity to create a new normal. To exist in a society that is more accepting, more understanding and more kinder to each other. Yes, I know I sound like the girl from Mean Girls who doesn’t even go here. But I do genuinely wish that we could all get along a little better, and I will definitely bake us all a cake filled with rainbows and smiles. I just think it would be a huge shame if we didn’t learn anything from the last few months. From the pandemic, from the Black Lives Matter Movement, from the YouTube community falling apart, and from ourselves.
Canada’s Drag Race is really…something huh? I don’t know if I like it, I don’t know if I hate it. I don’t know if in two episodes time I am going to be obsessed. You might remember a while back, when I said that I felt the original Drag Race was tired. This has a breath of fresh air pumped into it, but somehow, it still feels a little stale. I can’t explain it. I am not thrilled but I am not bored.
Do you remember when Girls Aloud recorded I Can’t Speak French, in French? I have nothing else to say, I just remembered it and wondered if you did too.
I am still hooked on I May Destroy You, and with the final two episodes coming next week, I need to ask if any of you think it was the flatmate? It has to be the flatmate, right? Part of me thinks we will never know just who it was. But if we do, I suspect the flatmate. It’s still breathtaking and painful to watch in parts. It’s triggering, it’s educational, it’s phenomenal. I still stand by an earlier statement that it is the most raw, most incredible show we have been given for a long time.
If you didn’t know, I moved back home to get myself ready and prepared to move to London. I finally bagged my dream job. Packed up my belongings and then the pandemic hit. No dream job. No dream London. So I’ve spent the pandemic at home with my parents. It’s been a pandemic in itself, at times. Yesterday, a man came to measure up the house for new carpets. My mum, struggling with the colour of said new carpets, turned to me and announced that it was a hard decision as her and my dad will “die with this carpet”. Not entirely sure how to take that one, Jan, but a huge thank you for the reminder. It seems to be a thing that as our parents age, they make stark confessions and realisations this will be their last carpet, their last kitchen. We were due to go to Florida as a family next year, at the wish of my parents, who declared it would be their “final big family trip”. Morbid guys, morbid.
Finally, I ask you a question that I’ve been asking myself a lot over the last week – has social media become too much? Are we living in a world where we are slowly being swamped and consumed by tweets and stories and reactions? Are we all running the risk of being cancelled? Of being humiliated in the forum of social media? Is there a good side to the internet? I have been struggling to see it lately. Please help me see it again.
My music suggestion this week is more of a musical confession. I am around 25 years late to the party. I am only just realising how much of an icon this person is. To you, my queer family, I am sorry for being so late. This week, I have been obsessed with Kylie. Yes. The Kylie. All the Lovers has been on repeat. I love her. Where have I been? Why did not a single one of you point me in this direction sooner? I mean, I thank the one who did open my eyes. I thank them personally. Thank you to you, if you read this. You changed my life.
Until next week, make sure you remind your delivery drivers of your boundaries.