I had a holiday in Jordan recently and got to fulfil a childhood ambition by swimming in the Dead Sea. It's a weird experience - the normal rules about being in water don't apply, and you feel weightless. It's very difficult to make your body horizontal. Because the water is so full of salt, it's imperative that you don't get any in your eyes, and if you do, you must resist the urge to rub your eyes - as it just makes it worse.
There were a large number of American marines at the hotel resort when we were there, wearing only swimming trunks (it felt like a scene from a particularly trite episode of Sex and The City and I kept expecting Samantha Jones to show up and say "Oh! Fucking!". I'm guessing they were on leave or on route to Iraq. One of them ducked his head under the water in the Dead Sea and was then blinded by the salt water and couldn't get out. "I hate the fucking Dead Sea!" he bellowed. His buddy said "Watch your language!" I like respectable marines.
Speaking of Sex in the City, I saw Kim Cattrall in Antony and Cleopatra last night at the Liverpool Playhouse. She managed to play the part without appearing like Samantha (she even had dark hair) - although quite a lot of the women in the audience had made their own special tribute to Samantha and had dressed (in)appropriately for the theatre. I love that Kim Cattrall is from Liverpool - my Scouse sister-in-law Alison is very similar to her in fact. During the break, I noticed a tiny round person, who looked like the psychic lady Tangina from the 1980s Poltergeist movies.
Tangina was asking staff whether Kim would be exiting via the stage door, and when the play was over, we saw her hanging around at the stage door, hoping to meet her idol. I hope the resulting meeting wasn't too traumatic for either of them.
I am watching the A-List New York, a rather toxic yet compelling American reality series about so-called A-Gays in New York. It centres around Reichen, a square jawed ex-military man and winner of another reality show The Amazing Race. Reichen is dating a Brazilian bisexual model called Rodiney (!) who speaks in broken English. However, there's an ambitious ex back on the scene (also a model - in the red-t-shirt above), who is now disgraced and fat (which means thin by the standards of everyone who's not caught up in this vapid world). There's also a celebrity hair-dresser and a celebrity photographer, and someone whose claim to A-List fame I can't figure out, other than he stands around sucking his cheeks in and being absolutey horrible and jaded about everyone in sight. He's 26 and I bet he has a hideous picture of himself in his attic. The whole thing is tediously contrived and the joke is that none of them are actually A-Gays - real A-Gays would never demean themselves by going on reality tv. It's very hard to write about the show without coming across as equally catty and bitchy as the partipants. Although the location is glamorous, the people themselves are completely commonplace, all recognisable types from my own, much more dull youth spent occasionally on various provinical gay scenes in the UK. It's somewhat reassuring to know that no matter where you go, the people don't change.