Tag: homophobia

Feelgood Friday [4] – real men love each other too

This story is a couple of weeks old now, but definitely deserving of a Feelgood Friday spot!

Two gay teenagers were attacked in Anaheim, Holland, for holding hands in public. They were on the way home from a night out when a group started shouting homophobic slurs at them, before launching a physical attack which left them both hospitalised.

It’s all the more shocking as The Netherlands has a reputation for being a very liberal country, and was the first country to legalise same sex marriage in 2001.

In a show of public support for the teens, and in condemnation of the attack, Dutch male politicians took to the streets holding hands.

Alexander Pechtold and Wouter Koolmees holding handsAlexander Pechtold, left, leader of the Democrats D66 party, and Wouter Koolmees, financial specialist of D66, hold hands as they arrive for a political meeting

Read the full story here.

Thanks, as always, for reading! x

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Back to reality…

…except not.

The last week has been eventful in many ways. Download was muddy (oh so muddy), drunken (oh so drunken) and muddy again (did I mention the mud?)

I got overly drunk, which to some seems funny but, in retrospect, I’m pretty pissed about because:

a) I should know better

b) I’m too old

c) I missed out on stuff I would have liked to see

Still, it seemed like a good idea at the time, and I haven’t hurt or upset anyone (quite the opposite, I’ve been a source of comedy it seems) plus how else was I supposed to deal with the mud? (I know, I mentioned that).

Reality has taken it’s time to join forces with me ever since, and I’m not sure we’ve quite connected yet.. The news of the Orlando shootings filtered through but seemed so very far away until the bands had finished and Monday’s hangover kicked in, and then the inevitable social media skim to see what we’d missed really hit home. I was especially angered by the Sky News reporters who refused to acknowledge a blatantly homophobic attack for what it was. Good for Owen Jones on walking out. I’d have lost my rag way before that.

The drive home, which should have taken an hour, took 2 and a half, due to someone who’d climbed up on a motorway gantry sign and been in situ for 18 hours. The worry was obviously for his mental health, but I’ve seen no conclusion as to why he was up there either way.

A bag of muddy clothes proved too much for my washing machine which then stubbornly jammed up to cause me even more headaches. Big thanks to my very understanding manager who granted me a last minute extra day off which I used to sleep in until I could face my domestic disaster (which now seems to be resolved, fingers crossed).

In truth my head is still not fully connected; the cataclysmic weather and humidity is playing havoc with my sleep and I feel somewhere quite detached between the muddy fields of Donington versus the expected nirvana of sun and all the bands; the disappointment of spending a lot and not seeing enough; the rabid disbelief of death and politics (seriously, between idiotic referendum speak and the very real threat of Donald Trump I worry for the future of the world) and my ongoing headache which may or not be a mix of stressed hangover with bad weather head pressure and cumulative three day lack of sleep. It’s not a hugely pleasant place to be, but is a very real result of my own excesses (combined with those awful awful real life events that we all seem so powerful to prevent).

On that note I’m feeling rather cross with myself and the dullness of this post, so I’m signing off with the promise of lighter heartedness to come!

Sweet dreams people, and thanks as always for reading! x

 

 

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