Private

Big Brother is half way through the series. I have watched some of it every year, at first interested in the psychology of strangers shut into a confined space (marvellously described by the comedian Stewart Lee as ‘the phenomenon of some twats in a place’), at once taunted and looked after by strangers with the mixed motives of responsibility and salary. It was interesting to compare it with social care homes. It’s one of the programmes that Nina and I enjoy watching together, so although the programme is deeply flawed, I have a fondness for it.


Today, a young man, (well brought up and educated, but vulnerable) was filmed talking to a group of housemates. He mentioned and answered questions on his large and low hanging testicle. It made compelling viewing. Nina tells me that the day before, one of the other young men (handsome, insecure) had said that he did not like oral sex as it was demeaning to women. I’d like to have seen that conversation, but alas, the moment has passed.

I’ve always found the things people say and don’t say interesting. Money is one of the great ‘no say’ topics, and I don’t get the reason since it’s fairly easy to guess people’s earnings based on their job and lifestyle. I’m open about salary and have seen people be shocked by it. Women in groups will often fall to the topic of their partner’s faults. For me, this is absolutely taboo, and I’ll clam up or absent myself. It seems to me the height of disloyalty to discuss. In my twenties, at drunken gatherings, I was awkward about how much and what to reveal about myself. It seemed churlish not to say anything, humourless, and yet I was afraid of conversations continuing awkwardly in the morning. More than that, I never had anything very juicy to declare.

Truth is, I used to make stuff up. One time I joked that I had never had an orgasm. Nothing could have been further from the truth. One of the people I was with took me aside and in all seriousness offered to help. I never found out what the help was to entail. Another time, my best friend and I went to a karaoke party dressed as the Blues Brothers. The next day, my boss, who was at the party, asked if I was a lesbian. I got defensive which made me look guilty, but I was married to Nick and we had two small children so I think she should have taken that as evidence as well as me and my friend sharing a taxi home.

My twenties were private years. I’m much more open now. For one thing, look at this blog.