Turned on by old guys.

The best party in Brighton last night was the Beach Boys gig at The Brighton Centre. It wasn't promising, a cold night with icy sea breezes hitting the hideous nuclear bunker that is our 'concert hall' and the people! my dear, the people. it looked like the local old folks home had been burnt down and they had all gathered here for shelter. It was grey hair and grey shoes as far as you could see.

I turned up in Hawaiian shirt and white pants with Tommy and Calvin, both in gaudy gay shirts, and ready to surf. Then, the lights went out, the MC shouted "...direct from Southern California" and the music started. For two and a half hours they filled the hall with sunshine and sound. I danced and shouted and sang along. It's such a happy sound, it slices into your brain, tingles down your spine and good vibrations cruise through your cunt. Amazing!

I, temporarily, left damp Sussex and arrived in Surferville USA. It was Fun Fun Fun, I danced away and, as usual, fell madly in love with Tommy and Calvin - I'd be the jam in their sandwich, all they had to do was ask. The young people surrounded the stage, 40 year old music sounded as fresh as the girls and guys dancing around me, tits shook, arses twitched and all the oldies rocked too, the disco lights flashing off their bald heads. Heaven!

Then they sang God only knows and the line "God only knows what I'd do without you" in that plaintive voice had tears welling in my eyes. A fucked-up marriage, a failed affair and all those men and, now, women who I doted on, gave my body and my mind to, and who I left or they left me. All these people plus the the amazing friends and lovers I have now came into my mind. So I cried for lost opportunites and the hope of a better future. My emotion fuelled by several Jack Daniels and a couple of spliffs really got the better of me.

And what did my dancing partners do? Did they give me a huge gay hug and girly sympathy? Did they fuck! Tommy reached out certainly but only to grab my arse and tell me to stop blubbing and start bopping. Then they played California Girls and the sun came out again.

I for one, wish they were all Brighton girls. Here's to a warm bed this winter.

Love & Mercy. Sadie

Here are two lips from Amsterdam.

And they're hot and damp with pleasure. Yes, I've just spent a few days in Holland's horniest haunt so expect plenty of 'finger in the dyke' type comments. The centre of Amsterdam is as cool as people say. Great 'brown cafes' (there's a gay guy joke there somewhere), full of atmosphere and smoke - the dutch don't do no-smoking! Lots of them, in fact, broken up by interesting antiquey-type shops and restaurants. You can wander along the canals, have a few beers and watch life and little Dutch girls pass you by.

In fact they're not little at all. They tower over you, apparently the Dutch are, on average, the tallest people in the world - it must be all the milk and cheese. It's true, they actually drink a glass of milk at lunchtime - it's disgusting but I suppose v healthy. Then they go out in the evening and get v pissed.

The blokes are mostly very good looking and the older ones often have great style. And the Dutch dolls are mostly stunning, tall slim, plump milk-fed tits and tight bums - hate them! Not really, they're very friendly and have a great fashion-sense. There are hundreds of fashion shops in central Amersterdam and they make Brighton look like Bognor! But they are walllet-achingly expensive.

I tried on a pair of embroidered jeans (since I was ill I don't have to lie on the floor to get them over my arse) They looked fantastic and I posed a lot in front of the mirror and admired my bum - even the gay owner flashed a look. Unfortunately I could wear the pants but not the price tag and so they got left on the hanger.

I'm staying with old friends in Amsterdam and they've been here for years. It's spooky but the last time I was here I was married and straight (but leaning a bit, if you know what I mean). I was on a business trip attending a client's conference - a real business bunny. I was young, comparitavely innocent and optimistic. I was Susie Bright, rather than Sadie Dark.

Susie was married to Brian, a man who she quickly discovered was a complete arsehole but she coped. She wore smart black business suits, talked seriously about consumer profiles and media reports and laughed a lot at the client's boring jokes. She didn't complain when she was fondled by the pissed client Brand Director and she smiled sportingly as she accompanied her clients to a seedy live sex-show. But she found the lesbian act a bit more interesting than she had expected. Today I would like to kick her into one of the canals.

Speaking of sex shows, there's the 'banana bar' in Amsterdam where men pay to watch girls eat bananas.....yes, yes, I know you're ahead of me! The lips that grip and consume the banana are not the ones you normally whistle through. Although I expect those girls could do that too, and blow a trumpet and propel ping pong balls across the room. It's all to do with having powerful vaginal muscle control and you can get them strong by exercising them at any time of the day. I'm doing it as I write this.

Whoops, I think I've gone too far - I can't find the cat anywhere!

Love & get great grip Sadie