Last night, Brett and I had dinner with my brother Neil. We went back to his flat to meet him, and he cracked open a bottle of champagne for us. He looked tan, fit and cheerful, as you'd expect for someone who's just returned from two weeks in Bali and Hong Kong, and who doesn't currently need to work, and who's going off again next week, this time to Bombay.

It was the first time that Brett has met Neil. Because Brett and I have talked a bit about Neil, as did my sisters when they met Brett, I think Brett must have already had some expectations about what he'd be like. Neil was at his most charming last night, and I think he and Brett liked each other well enough. We went to a place named Alfreds, where English food has been pushed up the culinary ladder to a point of quality and imagination which makes it well worth eating. I ate a smoked haddock appetizer, with stilton cheese. For the main course, it was liver and onions, and for dessert, a delicious sticky-toffee pudding.

Back in the hotel, later that night, a part of me was curious about how Brett now viewed my brother. But my feelings about Neil are very complex, and whenever I'm with him, it forces me to think a lot about myself. So I really didn't want to bring all that up with Brett, or even have him make me think too much about it; which means that I still don't really know what Brett thinks about Neil, apart from his statement that the two of us are much alike, which I, of course, dispute.

I was feeling tired and a little down this morning. I decided to have an easy day, and I slowly made my way through South Kensington, along Knightsbridge, then down via Green Park to Picadilly, to visit the Royal Academy of Arts. Along the way I shopped for clothes in Harrods and Harvey Nichols. Both stores have formidably current men's departments, with young-dandy sales clerks, most of whom hold up their nose at you. I bought a cool lime-green sweatshirt, but finished my shopping expedition even more tired and low in spirits.

The main hall at the Museum of Natural History. I popped inside on my way to go shopping.

The lovely exhibition of French paintings from "Ingres to Matisse" at the Royal Academy refreshed my spirits. There were about sixty works from two museums in Baltimore (of all places), and the exhibit was both intellectually and emotionally uplifting; some of the works were lushly beautiful - I could have stared greedily at them forever.

My favorite painting in the exhibition: The Shaded Stream at Le Puits Noir, by Gustave Courbet

There were the usual slightly dotty old English ladies touring the exhibition, with their funny old hats, fussy Queen-Mother dresses, and their fruity voices commenting intellectually to each other on such things as the artist's enchanting homo- eroticism. The kind you see on British PBS shows; like that nun with the teeth, and the two fat ladies who cook.

Today, in fact, one of them kept staring at me, as if transfixed. In the end I had to go and ask her if something was wrong. She replied, in a slow haunted manner, that I reminded her very much of her husband. She asked me what I did, and, strangely, if she should know me from somewhere. I was on the point of replying "Not unless you're familiar with gay webcams...", when she thrust her hand into mine and announced her double-barrelled name, and aftewards asked for my own name - my full-name. She then mentioned again how much I "brought back the presence" of her husband. I felt a sudden chill, and I asked her if her husband had passed away, to which she replied "He took me hand-gliding." At this she introduced me to her sister Mary, who promptly led my new friend away while looking back at me apologetically.

Picadilly Circus

I wandered further, browsing for a while in the huge, beautiful Art Deco bookstore near Picadilly Circus, Waterfords, and, passing through Picadilly Circus and Leicester Square, I looked at some more clothing stores in Covent Garden. I came across Floral Street, which contains the stores of a lot of big names in English contemporary fashion: Paul Smith, Ted Baker etc. Everything was on sale, but there was nothing I really fancied. So, feeling the heat somewhat, I doubled-back to Leicester Square, and sat in the shade for a while.

Me in Leicester Square

Leicester Square always used to draw me in when I was a student in London. It has such a mix of people passing through - youths from all over the world, mostly, and also a bunch of old chinese locals who sit around and watch the world pass by.

Big mix in Leicester Square. Note the Italian youth dead center in the background, wearing a t-shirt and underpants. His friend was dressed similarly.

Finally, I took the tube to Hyde Park Corner, and walked into London's biggest park - acres of spreading lawns, flower beds, long views along tree-shaded paths. I had the most peaceful time of this trip - just lying in the shade, a cool breeze caressing my chest, and the trees rustling. I looked at the catalog from the show at the Royal Academy, wrote this journal, watched a really hot Iranian boy playing soccer just in his jeans, ate an apple and some cheese. Fifty-percent reduced-fat cheese, mind you :)

In Hyde Park

Later on, I met up with Brett back at the hotel, and took him back to Hyde Park so that he could see it too. I'd forgotten how lovely London can be on a beautiful Summer day. A nice end to our trip. Tomorrow we fly home. Thanks for stringing along with me these last two weeks :)