Week 2 - Greg + Martin K
Martin and I met at Rudy’s in Didsbury, a pizzeria we have both been to previously and a personal favourite of his. Martin is 41 and currently lives in Stockport.
I first met Martin via Outdoor Lads, which I have recently rejoined after a hiatus of several years. Outdoors Lads is a social group for gay men who like, well, the outdoors. Volunteers organise and run events ranging from short walks to residential stays in the Cairngorms. I used to participate in their events fairly frequently when I lived in London, but stopped a few years ago, I can’t quite recall why. What always strikes me about the ODL membership is its diversity. You could be on an event from people ranging from seventeen to seventy years old. The group was founded in the north so its centre of gravity is very much here, something I’ve become all too aware of when attempting to book events, a process that feels akin to getting Glastonbury tickets. When you are lucky enough to join an event, they are always good fun amongst pleasant company.
Martin is currently cat sitting for his brother while he’s on holiday. Basil is a ragdoll and, like most cats, has delusions of grandeur. On the first night, he woke Martin at 2am with his relentless miaowing. Food, water and litter tray were all in good order and it took Martin some time to realise that Basil required the central heating to be switched on before he’d pack it in. Apparently he has a heated bed, which Martin’s brother had forgotten to mention and which must be switched on for his comfort at all times. The next day Martin refilled Basil’s water fountain only for him to turn his nose up at it. Martin’s brother subsequently explained that he will only drink from it if it has been filled from the filter jug, not directly from the tap. This reminded me of my late cat, Booksy (she came to me with her name), who decided to stop drinking from her water fountain one day and would thereafter only drink from a (very specific) glass placed on the floor. You’ve got to love cats, you really have to earn their affections.
When he’s not cat sitting, Martin resides in Stockport where he’s living with his father until his divorce gets finalised. He then hopes to buy somewhere in Altrincham (which is worth a visit if you’ve never been). He was married for 10 years and with his ex for 19 years in total. They got married in New York, as did my brother and his wife, and I was reminded of my brother’s wedding reception, an event at which I consumed a little too much beer. My father, having noticed my inebriation, pulled a genius move. Rather than flatly refusing me further beers, he willingly went to the bar on my behalf, replacing each drink with a non-alcoholic alternative, something I only found out several days later. I have learnt in life that it’s often more productive to use this kind of subterfuge than approach an obstacle head on. People rarely like to be told no and a little sleight of hand can often accomplish the same outcome with far less drama.
We spoke a little about holidays we have planned and Martin has booked a trip to Texas in the summer. He is going there to visit a friend who he met in a Reddit boardgames group online during lockdown and hasn’t ever met in real life. They plan amongst other things to see Kylie perform, as I will when she heads to Manchester. I also suggested going to see the sheep rodeo (think sheep instead of broncos and children instead of cowboys) but he didn’t seem overly enthusiastic. I can’t say I blame him. Lockdown wasn’t the greatest of times for Martin who was struck down with pancreatic exocrine insufficiency, a condition which means your pancreas doesn’t produce enough of the enzymes required to digest food. His father suffers from the same condition and chooses to opt for a raw diet rather than taking any medication.
Martin’s dad is Iranian and was sent to the UK by his parents in the 70s when the Iranian revolution broke out. Apparently he flew back to Iran after one week as it was too cold, but was swiftly sent back. Although they get on well enough, Martin’s dad has one habit he can’t abide: soap operas. In a bid to avoid Emerdale, Martin started going to the gym and has subsequently lost 30kg in weight. Thank god for the Dingles.
We ordered a pizza each, I had the White Capricciosa special and Martin had the Tripoli Pomodoro e Bufala special. We were also offered dessert on the house, “just ‘cause” by the lovely Darla, so I forced down a tiramisu and Martin opted for a rum baba . Interesting fact: tiramisu loosely translates as “pick me up”. You’re welcome.
Another lovely meal, thank you Martin!
