Days 4 and 5: When Things Go Wrong

Carlsberg don’t do weekends; Culture Vulture, on the other hand, do…

This weekend, I was sent around and about by our loyal followers – but first I had to sing for my supper. Or rather, work for my cake.

Saturday was a grim, rainy day – I was beginning to worry if that might become the story of the month. At Leeds station I took shelter under the roof as I waited for my train. But where was I headed? Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.

I was invited to a secret tea party somewhere around West Yorkshire by Lynn (that’s ‘Bakelady’ to you). For the better part of the last year, she has been turning her very own home into the Secret Tea Room, where she brings together guests from all over who have never met each other but who come along for the chance to meet new people and to taste the goodies on offer. A normal semi-detached in a residential street, once a month it pays host to the Secret Tea Party.

She has space for 12 at each gathering, and the waiting list is huge. Some of those who turned up this weekend had signed up back in November: the demand is that big!

There wasn’t a spare place this time, but when Lynn heard about what I was doing, she offered to bring me along and let me indulge in all that she had to offer – on the condition that I serve at the front of house, taking the orders, pouring the tea, and making the guests comfortable.

Braving the rain, a handful of guests came from far and wide and got to know each other in great company. Sadly, because of a mix-up, two guests didn’t turn up (one of the things that went wrong). So rather than leave the pair of lovely ladies from near Bradford alone in the living room, I stepped up and enjoyed the good stuff with them (it’s a tough job but someone has to do it).

Lynn’s grape and brie finger sandwiches, her darjeeling tea (made by filling the tea bags herself with tea leaves purchased wholesale), her scones and clotted cream, and her experimental chocolate and courgette cake (one of your five-a-day?) – it was all simply superb. I wanted to recline on her sofa, sipping my tea and picking at the strawberries like a Roman emperor.

I love anything like this, if only for the people you might end up meeting. Lynn has featured in the Mirror, The Times, and on national radio, such is the chord that these events have been striking with a wider and wider audience. Get yourself on the waiting list!

Headed back to Leeds, I first had a lengthy delay at the train station in Secret Tea Party Town. I made the mistake of checking BBC Sport on my phone and following the season-opener Leeds United match as they played down in Southampton: it was a miserable game; I got into town for the second half and watched it in a pub. Let’s just say that was something else that went wrong!

Happily however, Kippax band The Music were playing their final gig, returning to Leeds at the very end of their farewell tour. If you don’t know them, they have an interesting and rather eclectic sound: a mixture of raw rock music, hard-hitting dance beats, and deep plaintive vocals. They have their very own crazy gang of loyal fans who have followed them from the start. Someone at the O2 told me that the night before an ambulance had driven to the front doors and started blasting their tracks in tribute!

Sunday began rather the same: drizzle, cloud, just bloody grim. By the time the afternoon came, and the big showcase of the weekend got into full swing, the skies over Yorkshire suddenly became bright again.

I had an idea what to expect at Leeds Pride after reading Martin’s blog here on Culture Vulture. But the sheer scale and wonder of it was a revelation. Millennium Square packed; Lower Briggate decked in rainbow flags, flying high above the stalls.

Of course, it would be too easy if I were simply going around and enjoying the sights and the sounds. No, you all have greater challenges for me than that: Jan drove all the way to my house to drop off not one but two dresses for me to wear, to really get into the cross-dressing swing of things.

Putting on a dress is a struggle (I’d rather take one off someone than put one on), but going to the toilet was far easier. The slight breeze in the air however made it rather chilly rather quickly.

A couple of girls came over to me as I scouted around. One of them wanted to give me a hug for coming along dressed as I was. But I told her who I was, and that I was writing for a website, and they’ve sent me along here, dressing up as a challenge.
“Oh. So you’re straight then?”
“Yes.”
She looked genuinely disappointed, so I quickly went on: “Well, we’re all a bit gay really, aren’t we?”
She seemed pleased to hear that. She and I got on well…

I have worn a skimpy nurse outfit on stage; I have been to fancy dress parties in drag. I’m that bloke who’ll have a go at anything for a laugh – you know the type. But I’ve never worn a dress (two of them – badly) and walked past people who simply take it with a pinch of salt!

Everyone was loving it. The parade took a host of floats and marchers from Millennium Square, up the Headrow, down towards Call Lane, finishing up at Lower Briggate where the party went on into the night. Whether it was Carl and the boys from the Yorkshire Terriers gay football team, the coppers wearing their rainbow badges, or the drag queens who put my effort to shame, everyone was in high spirits.

Down at Lower Briggate, I met Louise Rought, best-selling author of a lesbian love story called ‘On Another Level’, come down from the north-east to sign copies of her book. Others had come from Manchester and Newcastle, even from Scotland, just to be here in a city which does it well! LGBT Labour were out in force too. (For the sake of political bias, I saw a few LGBT Conservatives on the parade, but they didn’t look like they were having as much fun.)

In passing I noted some debate here on the site about Leeds Pride over the weekend. The argument went from one side that people shouldn’t be flaunting their sexuality, that it belongs in the bedroom, something private between consenting adults. I don’t know what the organisers and the LGBT community would say on the matter, but for what little my opinion’s worth, I can only say this.

Part of my motivation to travel around this month and see the great work done by passionate people and the stories about others all around the region is that there is so much bad in the news and I want to find something good. As I write, fires are burning and gangs looting across parts of London because of anger and fear, the worst of humanity. We have to find the best in one another, or this is the future that faces all of us. Making others feel small or lesser because of what they feel or what they think or what they do is what the school bully does. If we’re to simply get on with one another and appreciate the goodness and the beauty of the world and the people around us, then we all have to have pride in ourselves.

At Leeds Pride I met and chatted with so many people proud of who they are and what they are. And thousands who were simply there to have a great day out with friendly, warm, welcoming, kind-hearted, and often utterly bonkers folk.

But I don’t know, that might just be me…

I keep telling the people I meet that I have no idea where the days are taking me, and no real idea where I’ll be next month or next year. But if I’m here for the next Leeds Pride, you bet I’ll be there!

So that’s the story of an incredible couple of days! And the best part is, I know that it’s getting even better. You ain’t seen nothing yet!