Well I moved at the weekend to a new flat, my own place; one might even use the term ‘bachelor pad.’ It’s very cool having my own space after sharing for so long, and the flat’s right in the heart of the ‘gay village’ – falling short of a rainbow flag hung from the building it was pretty obvious that I was among friends from the moment I started unloading the van; the flat above (I’m in the basement, but I shall avoid obvious jokes about having several gay men on top of me) has a nice line in lesbian murals and the two guys proudly on display at the window were showing a bit of mince.

For the first two days I heard strange scraping noises late at night in the room above; like heaving objects being dragged across the floor. I heard the same thing again in the morning and started to wonder about the sexual practices of the guys upstairs. Deciding to get to the bottom of it, I buzzed them last night to introduce myself (noticing that all the door buzzers appeared to have names like ‘Dave & Steve’ labeled across them!). They kindly invited me in, which was an excuse to have a bit of a nose. It also explained away the noises: they use a fold-away bed and must have to rearrange furniture each night – I was a bit disappointed it wasn’t that they have a dungeon. Anyway, they seem like nice chaps – it didn’t take long to work out who’s the top and who’s the bottom, although it’s not always as obvious as it seems. I got the impression they’re a pair of very homely homos and have settled into domestic bliss – i.e. sex on Sundays if you’re lucky. That would explain why I haven’t heard any action yet, and believe me, with the paper thin floors I’m gonna hear it! Practically be in the same room.