Hello hello from OGPete
Hello psychos!
I entered your space on 9 July, so it's about time I introduced myself. So here I am, slightly paranoid after having read the thread "Pig Alert..." - Do read what I've added there, if you've time. And, unusually, I have tried to put some general information into my profile (if any of you think there's too much for safety, please let me know).
This will have to be a very abbreviated introduction - after 60 years on this planet, I carry a lot of baggage. - When I was a child, popular music was Vera Lynn, Gracie Fields, etc - and bloody good they were, too. When I was a teenager, ..... boring, boring, boring ...cut to 1999.
I took up rave dancing in 1999, at the tender age of 56. And have never looked back. Dark, suicidal depressions from which I'd suffered intermittently all my adult life until then have become a thing of the past. I'm comfortable with myself and (touch wood) happy. The first place I seriously got into was the Slimelight, a unique, weekly members' club near the Angel in London. One room plays darkwave, generally gloomy, gothic music. The other plays industrial techno. Meeting weekly gives you the chance to develop acquaintances into friendships faster than more occasional meetings do. It's an uphill task to get accepted there (it is so bloody strange, and has a dark side!) but after six months I felt like part of the furniture. Doing this gave me a lot of self-confidence - I know I can go just about anywhere and become accepted over a period of time. Yay! At sixty! It's a good feeling.
Although I no longer visit the Slime, I shall always acknowledge its unique importance in my personal development. So what happened? Well, I slowly discovered the joys of much more melodic, much more mentally uplifting music - uplifting trance and psychedelic trance. My ignorance of the music is huge, but diminishing. And the company I keep is second to none. My development, and my preference, has progressed from licensed clubs to semi-lawful and unlawful underground events. I was a dreadful good-goody as a child, a teenager, a young adult. Now, I really don't care a damn for the outward trappings of 'respectability'. I know that I am - and my friends are - truly respectable, however delightfully (and harmlessly) delinquent are some of our activities.
I hold down quite a decent, conventional job as the Company Secretary of an overseas aid charity (see profile). So have become quite adept at flicking my body-clock from conventional hours to all-night partying, and back again for Monday mornings. Hmm... That's the difficult bit. OK, there have been one or two timing errors, but I've managed. Am much looking forward to retirement on a pension in four years' time, when I plan never again to live through the British winter but rather, spend November to March in the southern hemisphere - Australia, Peru, Chile, Argentina and places I've not yet visited.
All this is both incredibly long and incredibly condensed. Before I close, I think you should know how my pseudonym came to be chosen. It arose from a telephone call with friends from the Slimelight / Electric Ballroom scene...
I was in the flat of Carol and Riki when Emma telephoned. Riki was talking to Emma, with Carol and I listening-in to his end. Realising that it was Emma on the other end, I asked Rik to say 'Hello' from me.
A few sentences later, he duly passed on the message, "Oh, by the way, Pete's here and says 'Hello'". Instead of saying something like, "Oh, how lovely for you, do say 'Hello' back", she asked the deadly question:-
"Which Pete?"
"Oh, you know, Yorkshire Pete, now lives in Crystal Palace, five foot eleven inches, blue eyes, no hair, you and he were talking together at the Ballroom two weeks ago, and you danced with him at Adrian's party......"
On and on and on it went for what seemed like ages but probably was no more than half a minute. And did she know a lot of Petes? - Well, only about 15 or 20. Riki, bless his little straight heart, was being so careful not to say anything politically incorrect, anything that might be construed by me as insulting. But he was getting nowhere and Emma's understanding of which Pete was saying 'Hello' to her remained nil. But I knew exactly what would make her realise it was me. Just two little words...
"For fuck's sake!" I yelled across the room, "Tell her it's Old Gay Pete!"
She heard my yell. And she knew at once. And we all collapsed on the floor laughing. And she said 'Hello' back.
:tongue1:
:tongue1:
:tongue1:
From then on, that group of friends nicknamed me 'OGP'. I'd be quite miffed if someone else had chosen it but it's OK because I chose it for myself. And no-one need ever be confused as to 'which Pete' they are dealing with.
BTW, a few of you I already know:-
Hi there, Barcs! What a lovely place it was where we last met. Thanks for your contribution to a brilliant night and day.
Hi Julz! Thanks for getting my flat-battery car going again. That'll teach me and my mate not to play tapes hour after hour with the engine stopped.
Hi Mark, Ralph, Dave! Your vj 'control room' launched a moon rocket in many people's heads that night.
LOL,
Old Gay Pete xx :rolleyes:
Hello psychos!
I entered your space on 9 July, so it's about time I introduced myself. So here I am, slightly paranoid after having read the thread "Pig Alert..." - Do read what I've added there, if you've time. And, unusually, I have tried to put some general information into my profile (if any of you think there's too much for safety, please let me know).
This will have to be a very abbreviated introduction - after 60 years on this planet, I carry a lot of baggage. - When I was a child, popular music was Vera Lynn, Gracie Fields, etc - and bloody good they were, too. When I was a teenager, ..... boring, boring, boring ...cut to 1999.
I took up rave dancing in 1999, at the tender age of 56. And have never looked back. Dark, suicidal depressions from which I'd suffered intermittently all my adult life until then have become a thing of the past. I'm comfortable with myself and (touch wood) happy. The first place I seriously got into was the Slimelight, a unique, weekly members' club near the Angel in London. One room plays darkwave, generally gloomy, gothic music. The other plays industrial techno. Meeting weekly gives you the chance to develop acquaintances into friendships faster than more occasional meetings do. It's an uphill task to get accepted there (it is so bloody strange, and has a dark side!) but after six months I felt like part of the furniture. Doing this gave me a lot of self-confidence - I know I can go just about anywhere and become accepted over a period of time. Yay! At sixty! It's a good feeling.
Although I no longer visit the Slime, I shall always acknowledge its unique importance in my personal development. So what happened? Well, I slowly discovered the joys of much more melodic, much more mentally uplifting music - uplifting trance and psychedelic trance. My ignorance of the music is huge, but diminishing. And the company I keep is second to none. My development, and my preference, has progressed from licensed clubs to semi-lawful and unlawful underground events. I was a dreadful good-goody as a child, a teenager, a young adult. Now, I really don't care a damn for the outward trappings of 'respectability'. I know that I am - and my friends are - truly respectable, however delightfully (and harmlessly) delinquent are some of our activities.
I hold down quite a decent, conventional job as the Company Secretary of an overseas aid charity (see profile). So have become quite adept at flicking my body-clock from conventional hours to all-night partying, and back again for Monday mornings. Hmm... That's the difficult bit. OK, there have been one or two timing errors, but I've managed. Am much looking forward to retirement on a pension in four years' time, when I plan never again to live through the British winter but rather, spend November to March in the southern hemisphere - Australia, Peru, Chile, Argentina and places I've not yet visited.
All this is both incredibly long and incredibly condensed. Before I close, I think you should know how my pseudonym came to be chosen. It arose from a telephone call with friends from the Slimelight / Electric Ballroom scene...
I was in the flat of Carol and Riki when Emma telephoned. Riki was talking to Emma, with Carol and I listening-in to his end. Realising that it was Emma on the other end, I asked Rik to say 'Hello' from me.
A few sentences later, he duly passed on the message, "Oh, by the way, Pete's here and says 'Hello'". Instead of saying something like, "Oh, how lovely for you, do say 'Hello' back", she asked the deadly question:-
"Which Pete?"
"Oh, you know, Yorkshire Pete, now lives in Crystal Palace, five foot eleven inches, blue eyes, no hair, you and he were talking together at the Ballroom two weeks ago, and you danced with him at Adrian's party......"
On and on and on it went for what seemed like ages but probably was no more than half a minute. And did she know a lot of Petes? - Well, only about 15 or 20. Riki, bless his little straight heart, was being so careful not to say anything politically incorrect, anything that might be construed by me as insulting. But he was getting nowhere and Emma's understanding of which Pete was saying 'Hello' to her remained nil. But I knew exactly what would make her realise it was me. Just two little words...
"For fuck's sake!" I yelled across the room, "Tell her it's Old Gay Pete!"
She heard my yell. And she knew at once. And we all collapsed on the floor laughing. And she said 'Hello' back.



From then on, that group of friends nicknamed me 'OGP'. I'd be quite miffed if someone else had chosen it but it's OK because I chose it for myself. And no-one need ever be confused as to 'which Pete' they are dealing with.
BTW, a few of you I already know:-
Hi there, Barcs! What a lovely place it was where we last met. Thanks for your contribution to a brilliant night and day.
Hi Julz! Thanks for getting my flat-battery car going again. That'll teach me and my mate not to play tapes hour after hour with the engine stopped.
Hi Mark, Ralph, Dave! Your vj 'control room' launched a moon rocket in many people's heads that night.
LOL,
Old Gay Pete xx :rolleyes:
