FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

Day fourteen

After the party

Martin Charlton

Dawn afire!

The rising sun spies through a gap in the curtains. 

Our eyes meet across plump white pillows, 

as night retreats in on itself, 

taking with the man I once was.

With ’80s disco still ringing in my ears, 

you smile and it lifts me higher than the gibbous moon 

we danced badly beneath, in our drunken state, 

as we staggered along Margate seafront.

I smile back at you – my Adonis 

                                   – my Osiris 

                                   – god of rebirth and resurrection, 

whose philosophy is that anything is possible and age is just a number. 

Reluctantly I had attended last night’s party and was in fact just leaving, 

but the universe clearly had other ideas. 

Did I bump into you? Or was it you into me?

Whatever! It resulted in my wearing your drink and the rest, as they say, is history. 

So here we are, 

the morning after the night before and I feel you’ve reinvented me.

You lean across and as we kiss my years 

fall away into an abyss of time.

Composed: Café G, Margate, 21 February 2019

This revised and expanded edition, Turner Contemporary, 29 January 2022

© Martin Charlton, 2019 & 2022.

Day thirteen

The garden looks sad and cold.  The seats covered to protect them from the leaves, rain and ice.  The swinging chairs are locked down so they don’t bang and crash in the winter winds.  

It’s ok, the days are getting longer now.  The sun will warm the ground as a glimpse of spring bursts through the earth.  The warmth of the sun and friends’ laughter will leave the long nights and loneliness behind. 

Party time will start soon and the garden will come alive again with laughter, love and happiness.  Roll on summer … 

come on, let’s party 

Anne

Palm Bay, Thanet

Day twelve

But what if nobody comes?

That’s always the hosts overwhelming anxiety on the three days before their party.

They’ve done their best …

Invited X even though her X will be there and that might be awkward especially as X hasn’t met X’s new partner

Got in plenty of alcohol and non alcoholic drinks and soya, oat and cows milk. Coffee and tea, lots of tea. With and without caffeine.

Nibbles – crisps- got to be gf, vg, dairy free, lactose free, no nuts, fodmap friendly and absolutely no palm oil.

They Think J is bringing her dog so they will need to put the cat in the bedroom- which will be where everyone puts their coats and goes for ‘serious chats’ (not sex anymore sadly) so they can only hope that works.

Shoes on or off- it’s a no smoking house so that’s gonna be tricky when people wanna smoke so maybe shoes on, but not upstairs.

Loo roll – how much is a decent amount without it looking like a siege situation?

Glasses – oh no. They really don’t have anything like enough glasses . Or mugs.  They ring round the neighbours.

Oh yes them – notes through all the doors warning of temporary disruption to sleep. 

Finally they can relax – having covered all the important aspects .

But what if nobody comes?

Karen Fisch, London

Day twelve

But what if nobody comes?

That’s always the hosts overwhelming anxiety on the three days before their party.

They’ve done their best …

Invited X even though her X will be there and that might be awkward especially as X hasn’t met X’s new partner

Got in plenty of alcohol and non alcoholic drinks and soya, oat and cows milk. Coffee and tea, lots of tea. With and without caffeine.

Nibbles – crisps- got to be gf, vg, dairy free, lactose free, no nuts, fodmap friendly and absolutely no palm oil.

They Think J is bringing her dog so they will need to put the cat in the bedroom- which will be where everyone puts their coats and goes for ‘serious chats’ (not sex anymore sadly) so they can only hope that works.

Shoes on or off- it’s a no smoking house so that’s gonna be tricky when people wanna smoke so maybe shoes on, but not upstairs.

Loo roll – how much is a decent amount without it looking like a siege situation?

Glasses – oh no. They really don’t have anything like enough glasses . Or mugs.  They ring round the neighbours.

Oh yes them – notes through all the doors warning of temporary disruption to sleep. 

Finally they can relax – having covered all the important aspects .

But what if nobody comes?

Karen Fisch, London

Day eleven

After Party

We were going to have the after party at my place,

We had Queered the Pier, celebrating our opening we told the histories, the pain, the joys, the rebellions against rules you Tory boys made, kowtowing to the Archbitch high priestess of horror and shame, it took a red wimp in waiting to remind you of that which wouldn’t have happened with grandma upstairs in bed. We didn’t see it coming, pernicious and unforgiving, no favours or rescue to be bought just the wall of hearts in honour of our different kind of fallen. Underlying locked in and rule of three locked down. Barely beginning to touch the enormity of our collective losses while some have the power and shame to spare themselves and party while we carry on, we will have our after party at my place, we’ll be recovered and ready despite you.

Janet Jones, Brighton

Day ten

DAZED

There is the daze –

And then the vacant gaze –

The morning after –

A night of hedonistic laughter –

V Mason-John, Canada 

Day nine

It was not covid

I am glad

she would have been 100

not so bad

I posted pics of her in drag

“no darling it’s not my dad”

What a party we would have had.

my mum

gone

she was not 

and would not 

have been there 

for that party 

and I am glad.

Harriet McDonald

Whitstable 

Day eight

Campfire

by Jane Campbell

All winter long we’d waited

frosty breath-baited, impatiently,

to be nestled in the Welsh Himalayas

sat around a hundred-log fire

feeling our favourite kind of free.

Beneath this black brilliance of stars

cheekbones lit by big flame glow

we put on our ‘just for us,’

campfire dyke-love show.

Biker dykes admire cycle dykes in lycra,

traveller dykes who park big vans at the far end

chat up gold star dykes who’ve never had a boyfriend

and hippy dykes in rainbow tents

kiss Scottish dykes with strong accents.

Here we are one crew, hair done just right

big ink tribal tattoo, recognised

as we squeeze into the cuddle of singers,

drummers, drinkers and the “I don’t do”,

eyeing some, avoiding others

all of us together- woman lovers.

Day seven

The party that never was..

Was there a party?

Wasn’t it just a chat, few old muckers chewing the cake: 

Ah yes sorry, I meant to say ‘chewing the cud.’

And someone bought some booze!

This wouldn’t have gone on if I was there.

I was! I was there?

Oh crikey yes….  Malbec does go to the old brain just a touch.

Just remember to keep all this hush hush.

Haha just had a sizzling thought;

Spiffing wheeze that girl pretending to be on the telly… just had to post that out to some chums; what a gas.

Just remember to keep all this hush hush; 

think of the party and my PM’ship,

no rocking the boat and all that.

And when this affair is all over, 

we’ll be the party to party once more!

Peter C- hill

Whitstable

Day six

Party Victoria Avenue 1982 (ish)

A Dyke History Trilogy: part three

They were designer shoes. Not top designer but still…

Kitten heels. Matched the purple striped dungarees

Bought for my first ever women’s party.

I loved those dungarees.

‘But I didn’t know high heels were a subjugating tool of the patriarchy’

I apologised to the scary looking woman.

With the close-cropped hair.

I took them off and danced and danced. 

Lel Meleyal, Scarborough