Sunday 26 July 1998, 23.57

Just when you thought it was all over - EuroPride Day 9! If there's one thing this week's been good at, it was offering that little bit more when you thought things couldn't get any better. It rained in the morning, but of course it was sunny and hot when me and Ann took Chris through the dogtagger-happy streets of Söder. A family with children and a pushchair spotted our dogtags and asked us the way. I gave in to my heart (my head says I'm finished with Christianity in all its forms) and bought the Ecce Homo book.

Over to the Conference Centre to help shift chairs and generally get the place looking like a school again. We were a tired but happy gang of about ten, sharing space with artists Leif and Håkan taking down their sculptures and pictures. Everything went smoothly, even the big screens didn't seem heavy with six people carrying them, and having a few tables over in the ground floor classrooms didn't seem to matter.

Then PridePark, for the very last time. Masses of people there, dodgy pop groups on stage again, and, well, a few surprises. Kim the Dane had thought EuroPride '98 was maybe a bit too organised, and sure, spontaneity is not really a Swedish speciality. But straight out of nowhere appeared the Mr Europride competition on stage - 20-odd 'guys' to suit all tastes, selected from the day's PrideParkers. All kind of amazed to be strutting their stuff in front of such an adoring (and big!) public. In the end, despite my cheering for J-O (I'm in the queue after Erik if that's OK :-) and brilliant dancing by Stefan the Security Guard, the public's cheers for Bitch Girl Club's Mille were far, far louder than for any of the ordinary-male entrants. A lesbian Mr EuroPride '98. What could be more appropriate, or more queer?

Dancing in front of the stage, more beer, more gratuitous hugs and kisses, more photographs, more joyful organiser-types, more meetings and smiles and more of our music on the Chokladkoppen stereo, a late evening blue summer Swedish sky, Mrs Green's microphone open for all sorts of folks, and finally dancing on the tables in an expression of joy and pride that all of us who were there will remember for, oh, I just don't know how long. It's like Stockholm has finally discovered, after all these years, how fucking marvellous it is at being queer, showing it for the world, and having a really, really, good time.

That's it for this diary.

I mean that.

But in the spirit of EuroPride '98, there will be more! Hell, I might even translate bits into Swedish. But I do have to work tomorrow. Thanks for being with me this far!