Coming Out

Is it a bit passé to blog about "coming out" - surely this is a bit of a non-event and everything has been said there is to say about it?  Probs, but I'm going to blurb on a bit anyway.

First my story.  I realised I fancied guys when I was about 13 or 14.  Yup,  I even *spent my pocket money* on the Sun and had a cut out collection of Page 7 Fellas I kept hidden on top of my wardrobe.  I went through a phase of intensely hating myself for fancying men.  This may or may not have been to do with the hairstyles of guys in the 80s, it must be admitted.

At the same time I went through an arch-right wing phase (please, keep reading, I've reformed!) and in fact was once called a "fascist" at school by a teacher.  I definitely deserved it for the hideously intolerant, vile nonsense I was spouting in my confused attempts to "conform".  I was outwardly extremely homophobic, as a crude defence mechanism that of course anyone sees through nowadays.

Silly, homophobic, screwed up 16 year old Peter

I "found Jesus" when I was 19*.  I convinced myself the devil was somehow leading me astray by tempting me with hot men.  I had a minor breakdown during my first term at college about 6 months later.  I totally withdrew into myself, just did loads of academic work instead... but then one day randomly thought, this is nuts, and had sex with a guy.  It was far from an ideal "first time" scenario, but I knew this was what I actually what I wanted and who I was. 

Is that all?

"Coming out" is a weird process.  I'm white, I'm male, I'm not disabled, I'm from a materially comfortable background, I'm nominally Anglican.  I'm therefore hardly an oppressed minority.  A black child does not come down and say to his/her parents over breakfast "guess what, I'm black!"  S/he will grow up with all of the prejudices that are present in society, sadly without a choice in the matter.  By contrast, in coming out as gay most people suddenly move from a position of majority to minority, and the sometimes adverse reactions will be new to them. It's a very brave thing to do to put yourself in the way of that.

"Coming out" actually usually involves multiple stages: 1) to yourself.. generally as the hormones start raging and you realise you're "not like all the others"; 2) once you've dealt with that, and possibly been through a period of denial, to a close friend or two; 3) to a wider circle of friends; 4) to your parents.

All my college buddies were pretty much fine when I told them I was "bi" (yup, again not quite true) when I came out at 21 years old.  I was (amazingly) the only gay man out at Law School, though, out of several hundred students in my year - and I definitely experienced a limited bit of homophobia.  I was by this stage out the world in general, but not to my parents.  This is quite typical I think, certainly for back in the mid 1990s.

By 25, I was living in London, working.  My parents were in Hampshire.  I'd so successfully cut them out of my life there was, as far as I was concerned, no real or meaningful relationship left to damage.  I didn't hate them or anything: they just knew virtually nothing about the adult me, who I was, who the boyfriend was I'd just moved in with, and whom I was totally in love with.  I essentially had a 100% childish relationship with them and never told them anything about my feelings.  Just stop and think about that. How sad a state of affairs.

Utterly randomly I was feeling bored at home one afternoon and thought "what the hell - I've nothing to lose here." I picked up the phone.  Mutti's reaction was quite simply "Is that all?"  I literally could not believe it.  I had spent years convincing myself (on the basis of nothing objective) that they would cut me off, disown me, stop loving me.  I asked if she had guessed - no, she said, she had no idea.  She just thought I was very private (obviously the hiding my collection of Page 7 Fellas had worked. Thank god, considering how *embarrassing* they were in retrospect :S)

CHECK OUT THE HAIR

I then became convinced Dad would be different.  He was an army guy: he was bound to be homophobic.  I called back nervously the following day: Mutti had told him, at my request, and he wasn't bothered either.  Read my blog on how he reacted when I put on a dress as a little boy (click for link) and you will realise what a total tit I'd been: he was hardly going to react badly.

I sent my mother a bouquet of flowers: I'm still a bit teary realising how amazing they both were.  My Mutti actually said she was upset I didn't feel able to talk to them before and that she regretted not being able to support me as a teenager going through all this.  A few weeks later they met the boyfriend.  They adored him and he was taken into the family.  Many years later, the two of us apart, Mutti still worships the ground he walks on.

The Flip Side

Now the flip side.  By no means everyone reacts as my parents did.  I've heard every story from parents as great as mine to parents who have literally cut off and thrown their kids out.  A friend with a Danish father and a French mother, both educated, liberal professional people, said they wanted nothing more to do with him when he came out to them in his late 20s.  He'd been at Cambridge and was now a successful City lawyer: he was a golden boy in looks, personality, achievements - but they could not deal with his being gay. 

What does one do in that scenario?  Hurt, obviously.  Scream about how unfair it is.  No one deserves to be treated like this by their parents for simply being honest with them.  Any open-minded person would say "how could a parent *ever* behave like that to their child?" We all know this. However my question is, does it help the situation for the gay kid to be the victim and to simply be morally "right"?

When you come out, you do so with having worked through an intensely complicated, difficult set of emotions over a long space of time.  You present that your parents.  Regardless of how good or bad your relationship is you owe everything to your parents: you literally would not be here without them. If your friends react badly, you can avoid them, or move on to new ones.  The same does not apply to your parents.

You throw this potentially huge thing at them all in one go, when you've had years to digest and process it.  Of course everyone wants for them to hug you, tell you they love you, and accept you.  The simple fact is not every parent can do so - at least not straight off.

Some Advice

So what does one do?  If you are contemplating coming out, particularly to your parents, you will realise how daunting it is.  No one wants to be in my friend's position.  The possibility of losing your parents in this way is beyond terrifying.  Remember that very, very few parents do react in this way though.  There are proper guides available on the net about coming out - read them - they will offer you proper tips far better than I can.  I will just throw a few things in though from a personal perspective.

It is often said that middle class, ostensibly liberal, families take the news of a gay child the worst.  They profess to be open-minded than other groups in society, who sometimes are more casually homophobic.  However, when it comes to one of their own, the situation is often reversed.  Your nice educated middle class parents are frequently more worried about appearances than anyone else. Know that the societal pressure of "looking good" will colour and distort their reaction and this sadly has very little to do with you and the love they actually fundamentally feel.

Even my Mutti (who was so amazing) almost immediately asked me not to tell my Grandmother.  What I think was going on was she was worried about how this would reflect on her and whether her mother would think she'd "done something wrong" bringing me up.  When Omi did eventually find out she said "Oh it's genetic, I read it in a magazine".  She was in her 80s, staunchly Lutheran, a former Hitler supporter, and I was still her "Peterchen".  I guess she was at this stage simply past all this appearance nonsense that can create such pain in our society.
  

Give your parents time.  There is a desperate desire for them to be okay with your news immediately and to be out joining you at the next Pride (okay, perhaps not that... how embarrassing?!)   Often if other extended family members or friends do not react badly when they in turn hear the news, your parents' fears of people's reactions will diminish.  This may take months, it may take years.  Stick with it - they are your parents and it IS worth it.  In a strange way you are having to take over the role of the mature grown-up in this situation.  If they ask you not to tell your uncle or your grandma: cut them some slack.  They are very likely to change their mind with time as they become used to things.

Don't rub your gayness in their face (you can do this with your mates down G.A.Y. on a Saturday night: it's much more fun) -  and this sounds strange but above all be as forgiving to them as you would wish them to be accepting towards you.   There is *nothing* wrong with your being gay and deep down almost everyone knows this.  Almost every parent will want to love their child regardless; just be prepared to love them back too, even if they don't react as you would want them to or in the time frame you envisaged.

Don't get all morally righteous: if you expect them to love you for who you are, be prepared to love them back *unconditionally* too. Think what they means - and be it.  This can be bloody hard, but remember no one is perfect, not you, and not your Mum or Dad.  Love them for their views as much as you might disagree with them, try to understand why they're being like it, and don't be demanding about the way you expect them to be.  You can't control their reactions, but you can control the way you behave.  You can chose whether to be combative, angry, or instead try to show them that you still love <them>.

In all cases of parents reacting negatively that I know of personally, the eventual outcome has been positive.  The biggest factor in how long it takes, in my experience, is actually how the gay child behaves and how they are towards their parents after the initial bad reaction.  That sounds odd, but it is my honest experience.  The gay son or daughter may be the "hurt party" but they are the one who has to turn the situation round.  Unfair? Hugely.  The reality? In my view, yes, unfortunately.

Is it Worth It?

I'm now 40.  There is zero question to me that coming out is entirely worth it.  Before I did so, there was an appalling cost to my self-expression and to my integrity.  I lied constantly to cover up my sexuality.  I lied about where I'd been, whom I found attractive, what I'd been doing.  I believe that deceit is cancerous: once your life is so full of lies about this big important area it becomes easy to lie about other things.  The longer this goes on the more damaging it is to you.

The sheer relief of being able to say "phwoar, he's nice" or a bit more importantly to introduce your lover to your friends and family - wow, it is worth it in every way. Removing this lie gives you the opportunity to work at rebuilding your integrity and realising how deceit affects you as a person.

Yes I have had a few shit reactions - both at college and at my law firm.  So what.  People may hate me because I'm half-German, because I talk with a "posh" accent, because I support Labour, because I went to Cambridge, or because I like Glee (I jest, NO ONE could hate Glee).  I can't control people's reactions and I can't live my life trying to fit in at the cost of my own happiness and self-expression.  I'm who I am.  I didn't choose my sexuality: I had no control over it.  The only choice I had was to lie about it to varying degrees or to be myself and be honest about myself.  Yes, I could even have got married to cover it up: some still do even in 2011.

A Continual Process

Coming out is a continual process; this is often forgotten.  It is so wearisome to realise that even today many people just assume you are straight.  It is still the default setting.  I had to come out to work colleagues; every time you meet someone new you somehow have to make it clear somehow that you are attracted to your own gender.

You don't want to have to be in this position of continually coming out, but it's the way things are.  We just still have such a hetero-normative set up in our society that we have to do so.  Once your friends and above all your parents (the ones who really matter to you) are out of the way though, you obviously becoming increasingly less bothered about people's reactions.

There are of course those who say "why do gays have to make such a fuss?"  They really don't get it.  Meet any straight person, in any context, and the chances are within a few conversations they will have announced their sexuality to you probably without even having realised they've done so.  They'll mention a wife, a boyfriend, someone they fancy on X-Factor etc etc.  If you're on Twitter think about the people you talk to.  I chat with several hundred; without most of their having announced it, I must subconsciously know or have a good idea about the sexuality of a good 80% of them.

Most gay men and women aren't making a fuss; they're being themselves, in just the same way straight people have every right to be themselves.

The Good News

There is extremely good news in all of this.  If you are around 20, chances are your parents will be of an entirely different generation: aged 40-50 and much more likely to be accepting than the parents of those in my generation.  Homophobia still exists and this influences opinions, but it is far less widespread and far less socially acceptable than it was.

A barometer of this is the statistic (apologies if this not exactly correct) that if you are a gay man aged 60 in the UK today, your average age of coming out was 37.  If you are 40, you came out on average at 21.  If you are 21 today, you came out on average at 17.  People are less and less bothered about it, and there are more openly gay people in all walks of life, making it easier in turn for everyone else to be honest about themselves.

Society is changing enormously.  Be yourself - you can't after all be anything other than you are, no matter how hard you wish it.  There are a lot of people who will support you and although this may be hard in the short or even medium term, it will on reflection be the best thing you have done for yourself.



* Just to be absolutely clear I had NOT found Jesus. From my limited understanding, I don't believe any of Christ's teachings are compatible with the hate filled agenda of the religious right.  The Christians I have in my life are loving, accepting, wonderful people.  I don't share their faith, but I know from the way they are that bigotry and hatred are not part of who they are.

Massage

What i need right now is a good massage. Would love one from Clarins...

What is this year about for me?
A year of new adventures.
A year where i don't need negativity.
A year where the family comes closer together than ever before.

You know its really best to ask the source rather than make your own assumptions and judgements. Rumours are easily made, and the stupid will listen.

Objectifying Men

We've all seen it - the use of hot men to sell things.  I guess it began overtly back in the 80s when Levis took to the air in 1985 with Nick Kamen stripping off in a laundrette.  It was followed by Calvin Klein shoving up a billboard of Marky Mark in his underwear in New York in the early 90s. Apparently the billboard caused a storm (every advertisers' dream) and as a 14 year old I remember being mildly scandalised by the Levis 501 advert.  Watching it now (click on the link) it is so mild it's untrue.  Perhaps this is a sign of the distance we have travelled in those twenty five years in accepting "male flesh" and the general sexualisation of men.

Sex Sells: Abercrombie and Yeo Valley

Anyone can have their photo taken with an A&F "hunk"

Abercrombie & Fitch are of course the real "masters" of this, with their shop assistants selected for their model looks (to be an A&F model you have to have worked in one of the stores first), their shirtless men in the doorways of the stores who will have their pictures taken with you, and their adverts which seem to show a lot more flesh than they do actual clothing.  Sex sells: A&F London apparently outperformed their first two years' sales targets within 3 months of opening.  There are queues round the block on Saturday mornings.

For heaven's sake, even Yeo Valley are using an attractive faux-boyband made up of male models to sell their yoghurt and milk during X-Factor.  The advert seemed to attract as much attention on my timeline last night as the actual acts.  We've gone way beyond the sphere of selling clothing with an attractive model (there's a certain logic there) to just using men as sex objects to sell anything.

Hot young "farmers" selling milk?!

Hottie or Nottie?

I was in the pub on Friday with 3 women from Twitter.  There was a very attractive man at the table next to us and let's say we were enjoying the view.  There were in fact a LOT of attractive men in that bar for some reason.  I posted his picture on Twitter with the hashtag "#hottieornottie".  If you're not aware of it, people (mainly gay men but also women) take photos on their phones and invite comments as to whether people think the subject is a "hottie" or a "nottie".  The guy can be in a shop, the pub, a park, down the gym etc.

This was the second time ever I'd posted a guy in my entire time on Twitter.  The result was a lot of enthusiastic responses (25 hottie, 2 maybe, 0 nottie).  Most responses were from straight women, some from gay men, one from a straight man and one from a lesbian (she asked for double points because of her objectivity).  The man wasn't aware he'd had his photo taken, it was a public place, and the question is whether this is unacceptable objectification or just harmless fun.

Likewise there is now the Tube Crush website where women (60%) and gay men (40%) take pictures of "hot men" using the Tube and post them to a website.  If you read the BBC story on this you will see the legalities aspect and the fact that during the site's period of operation only 3 men ever have asked for their images to be removed.  You'll also note that only photos of men, but not women, are allowed, but there is no real explanation given as to why.

Double Standards?

Yesterday on Twitter I also posted a picture that a gay man had posted of himself on Grindr.  FYI this is the "hook up" app on iPhones etc, which has incredibly strict rules about "decency" and what may and may not be shown; there is a maximum distance below the belly button that can be displayed etc.  The picture in my view wasn't porn or anywhere close to it (my MUTTI follows me on Twitter after all). It was just a picture a very good looking guy had voluntarily put out there of himself.  He was seeking attention on a hook up app, no doubt as he thinks is his just reward for the hours and weeks he must spend in the gym.

I then got talking to another gay man about the "types" we found attractive.  My friend showed me a sweet coupley pic of him and his ex-boyfriend and I commented that the ex was "beautiful".

Our conversation was interrupted by a 3rd party who said (in a nutshell, this went on for almost 6 hours) that we were applying a double-standard, we wouldn't say this about women and were pleading special treatment for the gay community.  He went on to say (and I quote) "Your defence is akin to 'it can't have been rape, she was dressed like a slut" / "of course your argument applies to women & children.  You're proposing a public sexualisation of others" / "I'm suggesting it makes others victims and creates a sexualised power differential. Same as porn objectifies women."

Pretty strong stuff and quite a leap to go from a picture a guy had posted of himself to suggesting that I was proposing a "public sexualisation of children" and that all 3 billion men in the world are "victims" because of my tweet.

Sexual Politics

Like a good few men I believe extremely strongly that women should be given equal political, economic and social opportunities and rights.  However, like many men I am also very nervous to express a view about feminist subjects and sexual politics because:

a) they are many people who know a lot more about this specialist are than I do;
b) I don't know what it is like to be the subject of daily prejudice because of my gender;
c) I do not want to say the wrong thing and offend or be taken as a sexist.

I am however a man, and I am aware of the objectification that exists (particularly within the gay community) towards men.  I therefore feel safer on this subject and hence this blog.

The question is therefore is it actually a double-standard to talk about hot men and to use images of them to "publically sexualise" men in general?

Tying it in to the above, there is no way, for example, that Yeo Valley could get away with a female version of their advert with pretty women with skimpy tops and big breasts milking cows: it would be considered crudely and unacceptably sexist.  It wouldn't help their sales: it would more likely lead to a boycott.  Likewise whilst A&F do employ waif-like women in their stores, the imagery on their adverts is much more male oriented and the men are much more overtly sexual than the women in the way they are shown.

Of course other advertising does still use attractive women, but in more subtle ways than these two examples.

My Viewpoint

My (entirely amateur) viewpoint is this has to start from the position that there *is* still a massive distinction between the way that men and women are treated in society.  The major argument in the objectification of women is that it greatly reduces the personal and intellectual abilities of a woman; it defines her as solely or predominantly an instrument of sexual pleasure.  This comes from a position where for millennia women have been in a "lower" position in male dominated societies.  Where some women are depicted in this way, it reinforces an image that all women are of the same (inferior) value.

Hot Man in the Office

Men as a category are NOT a victimised group in our society.  If I meet an attractive guy in an office, or indeed see one of the "hunks" at the Abercrombie store, do I think of them purely as sex objects, or do I see their physical make up as one immediately apparent aspect of them... but then quickly move on to make judgements (as we all naturally do) about their personal and intellectual abilities when we interact?

I'm not coming from a default setting of "oh he's sexy, therefore he can't have a brain and is only good for a shag".  The A&F model may be good looking and also not very bright; equally he could be finishing his training as a doctor.  Because I do not have centuries' worth of social conditioning that sexual attractiveness of a man equates to that being their *only* defining factor, I don't automatically pigeon hole him.

I would genuinely contend that men are still in a very different position to women in this regard and we unfortunately have a long, long way to go before the intentions of the "slut walks" (which I personally think superb) will filter through and become a reality. 

I find it fascinating that Tube Crush has only had 3 requests during its existence from men to remove their images.  Others are presumably either flattered or indifferent to being featured on it.  I can fully understand why some would view taking secretive photos of strangers as creepy.  I however certainly don't mind being objectified: I post a shirtless pic of myself on Grindr and would actually be chuffed to bits if someone took my picture and put it on Tube Crush.  I'm operating, as I assume most men are, from a position that we know our physical appearances are *not* our sole defining factors in society.  We therefore don't have a fear or insecurity we will be just be seen as a "sex thing".  Women, it seems, sadly do not yet have this luxury.

That in a nutshell is why I reject the "double-standard" argument as being utterly out of synch with the position our society is in.  There is a demonstrable difference between "sexualising" men and women today in Britain - to ignore it is just plain silly.

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

One could of course argue that "two wrongs don't make a right".  It's not right to objectify and sexualise men just because women have always been objectified.  I've no idea how time will move on.  Will the rapid move from Levi Boys stripping in laundrettes in 1985 to Young Farmers in 2011 with suggestive "milk moustaches" lead to men being seen purely as "shag toys"?  All I can comment on is now, not extrapolate forward.  Instinctively, given the dominant position men still hold in society, I have serious doubts this will happen, however.

Much more informed commentators can make the link between sexual objectification and sexual violence in a society.  The overwhelming bulk of sex crimes are currently directed at women; a small (but often forgotten) proportion are aimed at men.  Will the existence of A&F adverts make men more the subject of sexual attacks? Again I find that proposition fanciful personally and would be intrigued to know if there is any data on increase in sex crimes aimed at men since, say 1985.

We are Sexual Beings

In addition I think it is a very artificial and essentially dehumanising to deny that we ARE sexual beings.  If we don't go out dressed in a burqa, people do see us, at least in part, in terms of our physical and sexual attractiveness.  It happens.  If you are good looking, or choose to dress in a particular way, people will notice you and react partly through a presence or lack of sexual attraction.  The problem only comes, as I see it, when this is seen as our ONLY defining factor.

I will happily comment on a woman I know looking great in her avatar, or saying she looks stunning in a new dress.  I guess I have the fortunate position of her knowing this isn't some form of come-on; but equally I'm sure many straight men can pass the same compliment and it will not be seen as stripping her of her identity and seeing her only as a sex-object.  Her appearance is PART of her identity; we need to get to the point where, as with men, it is not the defining or exclusive part.

Context is also important: I'd say it's fine in a pub over a drink to comment about a guy there.  At the work place it is clearly not acceptable, even if we inevitably think it, to verbalise our impressions whether it's about a man or a woman.  Work should be a "sexuality neutral" location in my opinion: a position broadly upheld by the law.

I'd definitely say "nice"

Outside of work, you might personally object to seeing young male flesh on display and being bombarded by sexy singing young farmers drinking milk.  I actually don't: I rather like it.  I don't subscribe to the puritanical view that skin should be covered up and I really enjoy seeing beautiful images.  Sex is important to me and it's part of my human make-up.

We have advertising standards to define what is and what is not widely regarded in society as acceptable.  If those lines aren't crossed, you have to accept this is part of being in a diverse society.  The Haribo advert is pretty bad, I don't <like> watching it, but I don't think it should be banned because of my personal taste.  Going back also to my "sex sells" point, clearly I'm not the only one who quite likes seeing attractive men on TV.  Yeo Valley didn't spend a fortune on their rather funny 2 minute advert for nothing: it must make commercial sense to them.

If you don't like my talking about which type of guy I find hot on my Twitter stream, you are of course welcome to either ignore it, or unfollow me.  It's a bit like rugby, cricket or F1 tweets: I'm not interested in them, so I whizz on by.  If it's *all* someone tweets about, I would probably unfollow.  I will not however be censored in my self-expression by someone (the man who objected to my conversation with my gay friend) who calls himself a "liberal" and who somehow reached the point that I'm arguing for the sexualisation of children.  I have no problems with anyone of either gender or any sexuality talking about whom they fancy - as long as it isn't the only thing they say (boring) and it isn't directed in a way that a recipient might find offensive or threatening (wrong).

The Gay Position

I do just need to finish up on the "Gay Position".  The objectification of men in the gay world, in magazines like Attitude and Gay Times etc., is on a whole other level to the position in wider society.  Sex sells and covers that feature horny shirtless men will fly off the shelves.  Many gay men clearly want this.  The gay world is much further down the line of only seeing sexual attractiveness as a defining feature.

Personally I do think this is somewhat unhealthy and it's not rocket science to say it can lead to very real negative self-esteem in some gay men.  Still I think, though, that we're a long way from the stage even in the gay world where a man is stripped of all identity because of his looks.  A charming smile, a good chat up line, a pleasant way of interacting will still attract people as much (or more) as a perfect set of pecs and abs.  Yes, I'll be drawn to a guy I find physically attractive as much as any other gay man would, but we are all (hopefully) still aware that personality maketh the man - even for a one-night fling, and certainly for anything more.  A 6-pack on a guy who happens to be dull as dishwater just wouldn't work for me.

In a similar way I don't buy Attitude just for the hot men - it's an integral part of my enjoyment and it's why I might pick a copy up - but the stories get 90% of my attention in terms of time spent reading.

Summary

My personal position is very clear.  I think we respond to sexual imagery and that's part of who we are.  Using fit men to sell things has progressed rapidly, I see no real problem with it, and I actually *really* quite like it.  There is rightly much more sensitivity when it relates to female sexual imagery than male, and it is not a double standard to act in accordance with the very obvious difference that still exists in our society.

The position I would hope we would get to is not a prudish "everyone should be covered up" position of the past, but instead to one where both male and female sexual imagery can be appreciated and seen just as that; it does not make the whole identity of a person, nor should it ever.  We are some way from this with women; perhaps "levelling the playing field" by using male imagery will actually contribute to it.

Hottie or Nottie? Yes, I'll go on playing it every now and then: it is, I believe, harmless acceptable fun.  Talking about whether rugby players are cute or not? Yes I will.  Talking about what's happening on Grindr? Yes if I've got something vaguely interesting to say.  Being censored in my speech by someone not party to my conversation? No, that's something I've never been too keen on.

I've said it before, I'll say it again: Wow :)

A Bus Load of Americans

For the past 20 years I've been taking Americans (mainly high school students aged 15-18, but also sometimes adults) around Europe on educational tours.  I sit at the front of the bus, with my microphone, take them to Versailles or Neuschwanstein Castle, and do my bit for the European tourism industry.  I therefore thought I'd blog about it a bit!

Supporting European Travel in Pisa

Travel Free in Europe and Get Paid for It

So how on earth did I get in to this? I saw a poster at college: "Travel free in Europe, and get paid for it" it announced.  As someone who speaks 5 languages, loves Europe with a passion, and who was at that point prepared to cycle 3 miles to save 20p on a can of baked beans, this sounded pretty alluring to me.  I went for the interview, did the training, and got the job.

ZOMG I still remember the moment my first group arrived.  There were 48 of them.  I was at Frankfurt airport.  I nearly shat myself.  This was *seriously* scary stuff. I was just 20: some of the kids were 18 years old.  We were going on a 10 day tour ("Bavarian Spring") of Rothenburg, Munich, Innsbruck, Lucerne, and Heidelberg.  I'd been to erm, Munich once, for 2 hours.  The rest I'd spent ages swotting up on, learning maps, learning history, preparing notes.  In most places I got the chance to dash round before giving a city tour.... in Innsbruck I had to do it straight off, reading my encoded notes in Dutch (which I knew no one would understand...) "Turn right at the Golden Roof, that must be the Hofkirche in front of you."  I pulled it off though, and the buzz was enormous.

One of my groups at Hohenwerfen Castle, Austria

We'd been out on a coach during training, but the first time I picked up the microphone I descended into a cold sweat.  Their little faces were watching me.  I was welcoming them to Germany: there was no escape: we would be together for days.  Anything could happen.  And oh, the things that have happened on these tours.

After my first two tours I moved company.  The new one is much better quality, much better organised, and they were far less likely to send me to places I didn't actually know.  I've been with them since 1993, over time moving on to interviewing and training people to become tour managers, representing the company at PR weekends, working for a time in Atlanta, being part of a tour manager focus group, actually designing new tours, - this all through my career as a City Solicitor and my current job.  I just *love* it.  It's my part-time thing: I squeeze in tours and commitments when I can, but I don't think I'll ever stop.  It's the most challenging, exciting, enjoyable thing I've ever done.

Musicians of Bremen: a group of young kids from Harlem

What's the Job Like?

So what IS it like being with a group of young Americans?  Well they're up for it.  They're up to have a good time, they're up for learning about the places you're going to,  they're fun, they can be loud, they are confident, warm, lovely.  I adore them.  They aren't cynical and whiny as I imagine British teens might be.  They want to have fun, and they will tell you when they are doing so.

Me and my mike on the coach!

I must have taken around 2000 Americans on tours of Europe: small town kids from Mississippi, street-wise New Yorkers, laid back Californians, Bible Belt Ohio kids who held a church service on the bus - I've had them all.  Any "Anti-American" feeling you have vaporises in seconds.  You realise just how stupid prejudices about a nation of 300 million individuals can be, and indeed are.

I've been to 18 countries and a grand total of 160 cities, towns or places with my kids, from Bergen in the North, down to Rome in the South  They're not "rich" kids, but they're the ones who place an importance on travelling: at 16 they could just have had a new or fancier car: instead they or their families choose to spend $2000 or $3000 on a trip to Europe.  Some have worked years flipping burgers for the trip.  This will be the only time they leave the United States in their entire lives.  A staggering estimated 80% of Americans do not even have a passport.

Goofing round on Mount Titlis... appropriate :)

I know I'm only in effect seeing the "good ones" - but my impressions of US kids genuinely give me a lot of hope for the future.  I'm a passionate believer in the value of travel: it opens eyes, changes perspectives, builds bridges and literally can change lives.

 Education, Education, Education!

These are educational tours.  The kids are capable of going to Versailles, having a group photo and leaving again.  Alternatively, you can fire them up, interest them about where they're going.  You can stand there and say "I talked to you about the French Revolution... the cause of it? In large part it's behind me!"  You can bring to life Gothic architecture by building a church out of kids at Salisbury Cathedral to show them how flying buttresses work.  Try enthusing them about this back in a classroom in Kansas - I have a church right there and one of the kids will be my gargoyle.  They'll never forget the fun of being part of the demonstration in a place they don't know.

Education, but also chuck in some fun!

You have a *captive audience* to tell them about 19th century bastards: Napoleon, Metternich, Bismarck- you can enthuse, excite, share your love about European history and places with kids, many of whom have never been abroad and possibly never will travel again.

You can talk about European socialised medicine (it's not -actually- evil you know)...  point out that people on the other side of the Iron Curtain were as afraid of us as we were of them...  that history and politics are nuanced... and you can deftly run through 2000 years of architecture, politics, art and history in 10 minutes with the aid of Euro banknotes.  You can tell them why the Holocaust matters and what we can learn from it.  What's more, they're stuck on the coach as you talk, so there's NO escape. Mwahaha.

Making Mozart Chocolates in St Gilgen

We do all sorts of "cultural connections" too - they actually take a class in waltzing in Vienna, learn how to paint in Cezanne's style during a class in Provence, do a theatre workshop in the West End, or take a 20s style Berlin cookery class.  You get to be part of this very "hands on" experience.  It is magic, and I love it.

Logistics and Emergencies

Education is one part of the job; the other aspects are logistics and emergencies.  The company makes all the bookings: we stay in lovely 3 or 4 star hotels in superb locations and eat excellent local food.  However, I have to make sure we arrive at all the places, I double-check all the reservations, and I'm in charge of all the timings.  If I'm doing my job correctly they won't realise it, because it will all run smoothly.  If we turn up for our visit to the Pergamon museum in Berlin and the doors are shut that day, though, I've got egg splattered all over my chops.

The dreaded "Train Experience" with a big group

Emergencies can be mental.  Anything can happen: I've had lost kids, lost passports, lost suitcases, an adult who had a heart-attack, problems with coach drivers, home-sick kids, broken limbs, 22 hour days - on my last tour I had to on my own book train tickets from Warsaw to Cracow for the entire group of 30 with one hour to go because our driver was out of action and the tour had to go on, get them on the train with all their luggage, make sure they'd visited a supermarket for lunch, get them from the hotels to the stations without a coach, and all without speaking hardly a word of Polish.

You're a teacher, a diplomat, a problem-solver, a friend to the students and a sergeant major all rolled into one.

One of my lovely students @lilplushy on Herrenchiemsee

Music As Well

I also take music tours - my single highlight of 2010 was a Californian choir who on the way back from a concert outside Bratislava sang *me* (yes, little me) "Don't Stop Believing" as we drove along the Danube at night.  (Coincidentally) fire works were going off to mark the opening of the new Hilton Hotel.

IT WAS A WALKING SINGING REAL LIFE GLEE EXPERIENCE *passes out*

My "Glee" group on a boat in Prague <3

My choirs and orchestras have performed in the Haydn room of Esterhazy palace, the Mozarteum in Salzburg, the Tosca church in Rome, St Stephen's Cathedral in Budapest - these are world class venues.  What an amazing experience for the students.  The music tours can be huge: the largest group I ever took round was 167.  There were three of us tour managers working together.  I had 67 on my bus alone.  We ate in the same restaurant every night - imagine how long it takes just to get them from A to B and the loudness of your voice to try to "herd" them from place to place.

Recruiting Now

If you know anyone who wants a challenging, rewarding, amazing, fulfilling and fabulous job - the company I work for is looking for new tour managers for 2012 currently.  It's the best student job imaginable and is also superb for part-time freelancers who have a couple of weeks available a year. You can apply here.  You get your travel paid for, your hotels and food provided, and the remuneration is actually extremely generous (Americans take tipping very seriously, and the strictly adhered to amount is $5 per person per day. Do the maths on a big group on a 14 day tour).

Cracow, Poland: LOOK at their little happy faces!

Imagine a job where you can have a profound effect on the way a young person will relate to their surroundings outside the comfort zone of the world they know.  Imagine the fun (and terror) of having a microphone in your hand.  Imagine explaining Impressionism to people who have never even heard of it, sending them into the Musée d'Orsay to look at the paintings, and asking what they thought of it afterwards.  Imagine an 18 year old New Jersey boy called Nick writing you a note at the end of the trip that simply says "Thank you, Peter.  This has been the best week of my entire life".  Don't know about you bunch of hard sods, but I cried.

I'm not even getting a kick back for this blog - I just recommend it as the best job I have ever done, by a mile.  If the above has interested you, give it a go!  People from all backgrounds do it: it is extremely challenging, but that is the reason the rewards are so great.  Again, I love it.

Lolz: Visegrad Castle in Hungary

Retrospect

In honor of my 599th post, I'm sharing the very first photo from my very first Iceland Eyes post on August 8th, 2004. Much has changed since then in all of our lives, but for me at least Iceland Eyes has remained a constant. Thank you to all of wonderful readers who wouldn't let me quit over the years. I dedicate this post to you!

p.s. Míó the cat is still alive, but has moved into a nice ground-level space under a deck on Baldursgata. He knows where we live now on Njálsgata but, coming from a long line of adventurers, has chosen the more rugged lifestyle conveniently located just behind the best fish restaurant in town ; )

Have you tried Dynamic Viewing yet? Five new views in all. Use the blue tab at the top of the view page to check them all out.

Pica

Pica, a disorder characterised by an appetite for non-nutritive substances such as rocks, sticks, bricks, house plants or light bulbs.


Recently it has been reported that a three year old girl has this disorder.

While her favourite delicacies are rocks and sticks, Natalie has been known to wolf down almost a whole brick, 'like it was a chocolate chip cookie'.

Her mother Colleen, 31, says every day is a constant battle of wills as she tries to stop her daughter eating something that could kill her.

Colleen said: 'She doesn't try to eat glass so much since it hurt her, but she will try and eat rocks and sticks she finds in the garden.

'I have had to call this poison helpline so many times that it's on my speed dial. You name it Natty's tried to eat it.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2041931/Toddler-addicted-eating-munches-LIGHTBULB.html#ixzz1Z6evUB59

Living "in the sticks"

Two ever-so slightly contrasting stories:

LONDON

I'm at the Friendly Society: a slinky, trendy Soho basement gay bar. There's a hot boy.  He actually talks to me.  The conversation goes something like this:  "So whereabouts do you live?"./. "Spitalfields" ./. "Really? Me too - just off Middlesex Street"./. "Yeah, same here. I live on Strype Street"./. "No?! So do I.  Brody House"./. "What number?"./. "Number 306"./. "Hi, I'm apartment 307..."

We'd been next door neighbours for 18 months.  I hadn't even SEEN him.  Not in the hallway, not on the stairs, not at the mailbox downstairs.  I wasn't convinced anyone was living in the apartment, actually.

[Editor's Note: Peter would *so* have noticed aforementioned hot gay boy neighbour.  This no doubt goes without saying for anyone who knows him.]

THE STICKS

I'm at a Christmas party in my new home county.  I haven't actually moved into my cottage yet: it's being refurbished.  A Tory wearing a flashing Christmas Tree brooch approaches me.  I think, gulp, I wonder if they hunt Socialists up here with dogs?

The conversation goes something like this: "Hello I'm Peter, I've just moved here"./. "Yes, I know.  You live opposite us"./. "Oh okay"./. "I gather you're doing a lovely job on your cottage"./. [Pause and think: that's interesting as precisely NOBODY has been inside my cottage] ./. "Really?  Erm, who told you that?"./. "Michael" ./. "Michael?" ./. "Yes, the carpenter who fitted the new locks to your front door."

Cue mild panic attack and consideration of how long it will take to sell up, get my ass back out of here, and to somewhere in Zone 1, where I could die in my apartment and peacefully lie undiscovered until around 2078.

Wind forward around 8 years

It was my dog Oscar's birthday on 23 September.  He was 9.  That date also happens to be the anniversary of my completing on my cottage, a year later in 2003.  The mutt's first two months with me had been spent at best friend @dominic_uk's house.  In fact, ALL of this is Dominic's fault.  In his ever so random way he had seen his now home for sale in the Sunday Times property section.  He didn't even look at another property anywhere else in the country, let alone here.  He bought it and moved up from Central London.

Because our business was run together, so did I.  I'd seen a little run down cottage with 6 foot high nettles in its garden in the neighbouring "town" and thought let's give this country thing a go.  Neither of us had the slightest connexion to the place: it was completely random.  On 23 September 2003 I obtained the keys to my cottage.  Michael the Carpenter later fitted the new locks some time later, as we've already established.

Chocolate Box? Much!

I put the word "town" in inverted commas because anyone else would call a village.  It's an absurdly pretty little place with a Norman castle, beautiful English Gothic church, thatched cottages, little local shops, and a bizarre 19C town hall.  However it is technically a town and used to return two MPs.  A nearby handsome Georgian house was (I'm told) used in one of the Miss Marple movies *and* had 5 suffragette sister inhabitants who would travel down to London and cause all sorts of mischief.  Fabulous.

And I've been here ever since.  I've been to 63 countries and have lived for varying lengths of time in 11.  This is the longest time I've spent anywhere.

The Former Guild Hall

What's it like?

Well it's surprisingly wonderful.  First my cottage: it's thatched, tiny, but is the snuggest home I've ever lived in.  It's listed as being 18th century - however clearly the council don't know their arses from their elbows. The builders found the chimney is all Tudor brick and they discovered some kind of wooden thing up in the roof (please note my precise architectural terminology).  Smoke was let out through this when the place was still a one storey structure.  My  hippy historic builders told me brick chimneys made it to this area in the late 1400s.  Until then a fire on the dirt floor would have been the main source of light, heat and for cooking.  It's almost Monty-Python-Esque.  Their guess is therefore the place is older than 1450.

That's amazing!  1450!! This place was probably at least 130 years old when the naughty Spaniards tried to invade.  180 years old when the Pilgrim Fathers set off to open the first Starbucks.  Over 300 years old when Captain Cook set foot at Botany Bay.  Almost 450 years old when Bertha Benz borrowed her husband's new invention (the car) to drive to a Schnell Imbiss in Pforzheim.  It's seen some history that's for sure.  And poverty of course.  Real poverty of a type we cannot imagine: hungry mouths, infants dying, possibly plague, famine.  It's just a little worker's cottage.  At night I often try to imagine all the people who have lived here: their fears, their joy, their toils, their hardship, the changes as events in both history and their personal lives unfolded.

The cow-poo and stick walls of the cottage are not thick, but they are incredibly dense.  The roof is warm.  By putting in secondary double-glazing the place has become really snug and so cheap to heat.  The BBC ran a story on this type of construction and the Prince's Foundation, ever champions of learning from traditional building methods, commented on what I have noticed: "The smartest way to save energy may be to live in a Tudor house and insulate the attic and repair the windows."

But what about the Locals?!

Well, they're for the most part absolutely lovely.  I was really worried about curtain twitching and what on earth they would make of a homosexual, Labour voting, half-German, Europhile, vegetarian in their midst.  The Tory with the flashing Christmas tree broach wasn't being nosy: it's just inevitable that people take an interest in a small place.  She was being friendly, which took me some time to grasp properly.  People look out for each other: that's quite remarkable and not something I was used to.  I've been invited to all sorts of events, dinners etc. Warm, welcoming, not in the slightest snooty, and not at all judgemental is how I'd describe it.

I love putting my "vote Labour" signs up in my window.  A former high profile Tory MP (who live 2 villages along) is a frequent visitor to the house opposite, along with various other Tories.  The owners are both Tory councillors and the husband (whom I occasionally love getting pissed on whisky with) was the chairman of the County Council.  I'm therefore *perfectly* placed to wind this lot up.  They're amazingly tolerant of me in the circumstances and said "We KNOW you just put those dreadful signs in your windows to tease us."  Hehe.

Preaching to the Unreachables

Of course occasionally you get the odd surprise of course: I was told by a former town councillor that London "has no British people left in it: well not whites anyway."  Erm, okay, let's look at that statement... *draws breath*.   A masseur in Norwich asked me what London "was like".  It's £6 if you buy a cheap ticket and two hours away by train, for heaven's sake.  This was a gay 32 year old man who had never been to the capital.  His reason was "I just never got round to it."  I was also told by two sweet old woman they would have voted for me in the election, but they just couldn't bring themselves to tick the box marked Labour.  They looked like they were talking about an unpleasant mess a dog had made on the pavement.

Then there's the odd surprise, such as meeting a lovely old woman in the local café (best café *EVER* btw).   Her heavy Central European accent immediately perked up my interest.  Classy, gorgeous, with the most wonderful accent when she spoke German.  She is the second Vienna Jew in her 80s I now know.  As a young girl Therese remembered the Anschluss vividly, and came across to England in 1939 with her parents.  She joined the Labour Party in 1948, lived in Islington before moving up here, and her home is full of wonderful modern art.  When two fish are similarly out of water, they make friends :)

CRIME and Other Things


I remember loving taking the piss out of the Local PC's crime report in the town magazine.  The first one said "There were 4 crimes to report in the last month.  The two most serious are as follows.  A man was seen trying to obtain a refund for a pair of shoes he had previously stolen in a shop on Broad Street.  A green plastic chair was also stolen from a garden in Victoria Hill."

THESE ARE THE MOST SERIOUS ONES?  What were the other two? One of those chairs costs about £1.99 at B&Q doesn't it?  As my friend Jamie joked, one day something really serious will happen.  CID will arrive and ask the local bobby "Have you had experience of a murder before?"  He'll answer "No, but we did once lose a green plastic chair back in 2003."

Caution: Crime Scene!

But think about this.  It is a rare, wonderful, incredible thing in this country that there can be anywhere that is so low crime (I'm actually only 90 miles from London).  Apparently it's one of the lowest rates in the entire country.  The weather is also great: we get 2 hours more sunshine per week than the UK average and it is substantially drier.  Winters are crap: I'd much rather be in the city when it's dark, cold and bleak here, but for the rest of the year, give me the country any day.

We also have proper local shops.  They're wonderful.  I was once charged 2p for a button in the fabric shop.  Does anything still cost 2p anywhere else?  Tesco is 4 miles away across the border in the neighbouring county.  People don't always carry their passports or have up to date visas, so it means that our townsfolk do actually use the two little local Coops, the greengrocer, the pharmacy, the baker, the hardware shop etc.   (Btw the hardware shop is sometimes a little like a scene from Cage aux Folles.  I am *so* not the only gay in the village).

Main Street: Rush Hour Gridlock

The last thing I love is the night sky.  This area is so sparsely populated and the nearest towns (Norwich and Ipswich) are each 20 miles away, which means light pollution is minimal.  I never fail to marvel at the star filled skies on my late night walk with the dog.

Twitter

The icing on the cake is Twitter.  It has literally transformed my enjoyment of living here.  I do huge amounts of travel at various times in the year because of my part-time "fun" job taking American kids on educational tours around Europe.  Without that it would drive me a bit mad if I were just stuck here.  London is also very possible for an evening out: I'm down in town some weeks twice a week.  I really need that, just for the life and variety.

But Twitter... It has simply stopped me from being lonely and feeling isolated all the rest of the times I am actually up here.  I can connect with "my type of people", have social interaction and intellectual stimulation.  I've also found Twitter friends much more likely to respond to a tweet "I'm in London: anyone about for a drink?" than many 'real life' friends would be.  I can therefore have fresh air, night skies AND access to my buddies from my iPhone when here.

I'm sure some studies are required into the emotional benefit of social networks like Twitter - for me being "out in the sticks" it is immense.

A Closing Quote

My cosmopolitan, Hampstead residing, gay, Sydney, Jewish, musician friend Jeremy looked at me when I told him I had put an offer in on a cottage here.  He simply said in his splendidly withering tone "Peter. You move there to die."

I ROFLd of course... and I now have the quiet satisfaction of knowing that he has bought a little weekend cottage a few miles away.  Oh the delicious irony.

The sticks: there's actually quite a lot to be said for them :)