have you ever just not thought something through?

Yesterday was interesting.

My partner had a modelling gig in Oxford which involved her meeting an artist in a hotel room so he could try out some body-painting techniques in preparation for his work on the forthcoming Erotica 2005 exhibition in london. (the picture is of another model from last years show)

In addition to her fee the deal included the option on the hotel room for the night.

So, I agreed to drive her up to Oxford with the intention of having a night out there. I worked nearby many years ago (see The Birth of SkyNet) and toured there recently with Sheffield Theatres and so have a certain fond familiarity for the place.

The journey was uneventful but on arrival I had the rather dubious pleasure of:

• delivering my girlfriend to a strange hotel room located in services just off the M40
• sussing out the artist and confirming the hourly rate
  
• shaking hands and leaving them in the hotel room together
• sitting in the neighbouring 'Harvester' writing while she stripped and he got busy
• meeting up with them afterwards
• receiving my cut - for petrol

While waiting there the reality of my situation kept washing over me. How could I even consider myself a man? Think of the indignity! Think of the shame! What if I was spotted - in a HARVESTER!

It's a funny old game indeed. Of course, I have since invested in a mink overcoat, flared trousers, much bling and you can now consider my ride to be seriously pimped.