I hope you are enjoying Jim’s autobiography, A Life Well-Lived, and today we have updated the site with another episode. This new part is called Amsterdam and Jim meets a great gay couple.

There is also the second part of Ricky’s ‘Blind Sensations’, Miles and Jamie’s relationship develops further.

With any luck the penultimate part of YOI Cock Town will be with you soon, and then there’s just one episode to go before we leave Nathan to serve out the rest of his incarceration in peace.

Our meterologists have forecast us Brits a heatwave this summer, but they can’t say when it’ll begin and how hot it’ll be. So, what with the credit crunch, most of us will be staying here for our holidays and no doubt go to our many great seaside resorts. You can’t beat eating fish, chips and mushy peas out of paper while sitting on the beach.

This year the fiddle was well represented in the Eurovision Song Contest. Norway not only won for the best song, they also won for the sexiest contestant. Alexander Rybak wrote and performed his own song and was the runaway winner, getting more points than any other in the contest’s history. The UK came in a very respectable fifth, much better than the last place we came for the past two years.

For those who have absolutely no idea what I’m going on about you don’t know what you’re missing. Just Google ‘Eurovision’ and enjoy the camp. (Campest performance this year goes to Greece – just how gay was that!)

But I thought I’d show you the ‘Fairytale’ of Alexander and why he won, I wouldn’t mind fiddling with him, either on stage or off.

Well, it has been a few weeks but the next episode of YOI is finally here. I have sent it to Nifty but I have no idea when it’ll appear. I sent them ‘Brian’ three weeks ago but their chap was on holiday so there’s probably a huge backlog.

I have also added the first chapter of Ricky’s great series, Blind Sensations. I really like this series, I like stories that are a little bit different and add a new spin on the boy meets boy story.

I have also started writing little vignettes to go with the picture postings on Screeve-Varda. Please check them out, if you’re old enough! And why not leave a comment, let me know what you like and what you want more of. Come on, be bold.

It’s been a busy week this week. I have been working hard and it’s Eurovision Week. We’ve had two semi-finals and we have the Grand-Final tomorrow. For those who don’t know about the Eurovision Song Contest, it is the campest thing the entire year and essential viewing for any gay man. Come on Royaume Uni. Douze Points, S’il vous plait, pas nuls points.

As I enter the local swimming baths, I head towards the large communal changing room. It smells damp and is almost empty. There is an old bloke buttoning his shirt and is almost ready to leave. I choose a position where I can be seen and slowly peel off my clothes, the old man ignores me and leaves.

A couple you young men join me and chat while they change. I have my audience.

Removing my trousers, I fastidiously fold them and place them in my bag. I glance at the young men and one of them is stealing the occasional glimpse at the bulge in my white briefs. I pretend I haven’t seen him and pull down my briefs. I twist my body so that he can get a full view of my cock.

Rummaging longer than is necessary, I pull out my blue speedos and I see the two young men have now finished changing and are wearing baggy shorts. As they walk passed me, I bend down to step into my speedos. As I pull them up, my voyeur looks back at me, I tuck my dick inside and arrange it neatly. He smiles at me.

I couldn’t make you wait for the final instalment of Ricky’s The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of so I have done a special mid-week update.

I have also updated Screeve with the two vignettes that were premiered on this blog. Shower is short scene of what most of us have done at some time, especially when we were teens. Teenage boys are notorious for spending an age in the shower. The Taste Of My Tears is a tragic scene of a teenage boy who has to leave home to avoid the wrath and violence of a homophobic father. I don’t know where this came from as I just started writing, it was one opf those times where writing can lead you anywhere.

And just for completeness I have included my short review for The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas

The air smelt fresh and humid, the rain having broken only ten minutes ago, and the warm summer caused the ground to smoke as the moisture began to vigorously evaporate.

I stood in my bedroom looking out of the window at the houses that overlooked me. All those people looking at me, I needed to leave this place. I hated it. And it hated me, and what I was. My mother was scared for me and had bought me some time before my father came home from work. She knew what his reaction would be, as did I.

My small rucksack was on my bed, packed full of what I thought I might need but knew it wouldn’t hold everything I needed. It looked lonely on my single bed, a bed I wouldn’t sleep in again; in a room I wouldn’t call my own anymore.

The tears that rolled down my face had long since dried up and I was resigned to loosing my family. When I woke this morning, I never thought the day would end like this. I, or I should say we, had been caught during lunchtime in a classroom. That alone would have given us both a detention, but it was what we were caught doing that would get us expelled and a letter being sent to our parents. But first a phone call was made and our mother’s turned up at school to take us home.

Checking my watch, it was time to leave, and I threw my suck sack over my shoulder and walked deliberately down the stairs. I couldn’t see where my mum was and I didn’t try to find her. I just opened the front door and left.

Walking down the street I burst into tears and ran out of the estate like my life depended on it and down the muddy path into the local woods. I didn’t care that about the wet, I found a fallen tree and sat on it, my tears not stopping and my breathing become irregular. I was as scared as hell.

When my digital watch beeped at the top of the hour I started walking the path to meet him where two paths merged into one.

He stood waiting for me and I ran over to him. We hugged each other hard, not wanting to let each other go and a few more tears strayed out of my eyes. I thought we’d be together forever but this was really goodbye. He was staying for he wouldn’t get the bruised ribs or the black eyes from his father. He would just get a lecture and subtle re-education until he finally left home.

I begged him to come with me but he was too afraid to lose everything he had. For a brief moment I hated him for his cowardice but knew how difficult it would be for him to leave.

Reluctantly, I broke away from him and pecked him on the lips. Turning, I walked the lonely track, never looking back and tasting the tears as they moistened my lips.

You wake up early, the sun is shining and it is a warm morning. Grabbing your bucket and spade you decide make your way to the seaside. This beach has no ‘kiss-me-quick’ hats, no gaudy deckchairs and no pensioners with knotted hankies on their heads. Breathing in the air, the scent of the fish and chip shop is absent; you just smell the fresh air and the ozone. There is no fumbling to change into your trunks with a towel wrapped around your waist as there are no trunks. The beach is deserted and you feel the breeze caress your entire body. Eddies from the breeze wrap themselves around your groin, you’re excited and you feel free.

This film is about Bruno, the eight year-old son of a Nazi concentration camp commandant. Taken away from his home, his friends and his old life, Bruno is isolated with his family near the camp, which he things is a farm and then believes a propaganda film that the Jews are in something similar to a holiday camp. Bruno likes to think he is an explorer and sneaks out of the home compound to find an electrified fence. On the other side of the fence is the eponymous boy, Shmuel. They become friends and when Shmuel’s father disappears, Bruno takes it upon himself to find him and digs his way into the camp where he experiences the full horrors of the camp at first hand. I won’t tell you how it ends, in case you want to watch this fantastic film.

The film is well made and well acted; the gradual realisation of what is going on by the commandant’s wife is well done. The two young leads are excellent and act the drama so well that it seems natural and not the usual stilted words that come from young actors. The film also shows us that there was dissent from many Germans about what was happening but I did feel that the film had perhaps been too heavily edited and I’m not sure about the ending. It felt too obvious and not in keeping with the subtlety of the rest of the film. But these are two minor criticisms and did not stop me from enjoying the film. I would certainly recommend this, but you should save it for a quiet night in.

Screeve was updated yesterday with another two chapters from Ricky’s The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of. The series is nearly over and we just have one chapter to go. Can you wait until next week?

Ricky has also given us Chapter Five of his series TIC. This series is now in full swing and just keeps getting better.

We also have another chapter in the life of Jim Cook. This weeks new chapter is called ‘Welcome to Frankfurt’ and sees Jim in Frankfurt and tells us what he got up to. It is fascinating and I just wish I had a similar experience when I visited Frankfurt, but that was years ago when I was a kid!