So here I am on the other side of the world, and I walk into the Institute of Contemporary Culture… and there, on a poster, is a photo of me and Simon and Christina and Catherine naked in Melbourne one rainy morning in 2001. Of course, you can’t tell it’s us, because there are 4000 other bedraggled naked people with us. Yes, I’m talking about the Spencer Tunick shoot. I immediately burst into hysterical laughter and try to explain to the bemused folk around me that “Soy yo! Acqui!” pointing at the spot on the photo I know we were lying.
And after that, the Queer Pride march and meeting the lovely goth types Mireille and Duncan and Quim (short for Joaquim. I’ve explained to him what it’s slang for in England and being a good gay boy he thinks that’s very funny.)
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