Gays on the perch, concert memories

We are sending off clothes to be washed and ironed today. I send mine every week. Maiyuu sends his every month.

Yesterday he sorted through an enormous pile of unwashed clothes, which he keeps in his bedroom.

We can send only 80 pieces at a time, so he chose those he most wants to wash (I suppose), and left the rest.

They now sit in two large rubbish bags, waiting for the girls from the clothes washing service to collect.

'I still have plenty more left over in my bedroom,' said Maiyuu, referring to his pile of unwashed clothing.

I don't think I have ever seen that space empty. Maybe he enjoys the company of his unwashed clothes.

I sent off a modest basket of work clothes, amounting to less than 10 pieces. These days, I make sure I check the pockets first, as I am forgetful.

Today I found B20 in one shirt, and B60 in another. In a third shirt, I found the ID card I need to get in the door at work, which I left there two nights before (last night, a friend let me in).

That's good. That card is still clean, and doesn't need another wash just yet.
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Two gay guys were sitting outside my condo building yesterday as I went for a swim. They were still there when I got back.

'Do you know Mr So-and-so?' one guy asked as I went in the door.

He gave me the floor number.

No I didn't, but I knew which farang he meant.

'I call him but he does not answer.'

Well, maybe he does not want to see you, dear!

'Can I visit into your room to call him on your phone?'

No, you can't.

'Two Thai friends are cooking up a storm in there,' I said, and left.

This was one of two gay encounters I had yesterday with the public.

Such is the state of my memory, I can't remember what happened in the other, but give me time, and it will come back.
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Elgar

Do you like symphony concerts? My Mum does, and thanks to her, I was exposed to them from a young age.

In Sydney, the city where I grew up, home to a world-renowned opera house with majestic sails, the symphony orchestra performed annual seasons of well-known classical pieces, in concerts aimed at the young.

My Mum would book season tickets, for me and herself.

The oldest child, I was in my early teens. The others were still too young to appreciate it when I had my turn, though she was to take my brother and sisters in due course, once I became too 'grown up' to be seen out with my Mum.

On concert days - from memory, the first Tuesday in every month - Mum would drive from home to see me at school in late afternoon, a 45min trip.

After I finished my homework, we'd catch an old deisel-powered train into town - one of the few times I went into the sparkling inner-city, except for Christmas - to visit the local opera house where the concerts were held.

We'd take a meal together in a restaurant overlooking the harbour, then find our seats in the concert hall. I don't know what we talked about; I wish I could remember.

I wore my school uniform. Mum used to get dressed up.

Often during the concert, Mum would fall asleep, though she still enjoyed it. I liked watching the players on stage. How come they did not get nervous? Everyone knew exactly what to do...how was that?

The orchestra played popular pieces like Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance. Many families took their offspring to the concerts, some much younger than me. I used to enjoy inspecting the printed programme - it looked smart, like the occasion itself.

The concert ended about 10.30pm. I suppose we finally got home at the exciting hour of midnight.

Today as I write this, I am listening to a classical radio station broadcast over the net from Sydney. It is still going after all these years - as is my Mum, bless her.