Wednesday 22 July 1998, 23.00

Recovery night. That's the plan anyway. Today was kind of relaxed too, at least after wolfing down my breakfast in doublequick time while logged on and typing, all for you, dear reader.

I had the honour of volunteering at Ecce Homo from 12 till half past two. Got to meet the exhibition's producer, Karin Tingstedt, who's just as delightful and cool as its photographer. A steady stream of people passed through the exhibition, some of whom had arrived even before the doors were open. All sorts of people. Plenty of EuroPriders with dogtags, families with small children (many of them with parents of different sexes), pensioners, straight couples, a pack of Viking Bears. A few, a very few, reminded me of some spectators I've seen from Pride Parades - people who are so afraid of us that they miss all of the joy and sadness and humanity in the way we express ourselves. But we had many people thanking us, mere volunteers, for the exhibition. It really was an honour.

Then I just sat in PridePark and did nothing all afternoon. OK, I had lunch with Hartmut from Berlin and talked about Swedish and German gay politics. I told him the astonishing tale of "Softcore" at the Historical Museum in Stockholm. He observed that the latest paedophile scandals in Holland had actually been discovered in May, but oddly turned up in the media just in time for the run-up to the Gay Games. Nice, really - they can always drum up a bit of homophobic hysteria whenever they want. Children's interests at heart? I don't think so.

The Dykes on Bikes arrived in mid-afternoon, followed later by their male counterparts from the ECMC Bike Run. Leather-clad and cheery and, well, if I die of lead poisoning from the exhaust fumes, I won't be suing. The afternoon turned out to be a miraculously sunny one again, by the way, but I didn't take my tie off. Är man en uppmärksamhetsdrottning så är man det, as we say round here.

Headed off with Erik and Ingemar to the Tiki Room Hawaiian bar round the corner, to be impressed by the atmosphere, the music and the cocktails (that's kuksvansar in Swedish), but not by the almost entirely straight public. Katarina assured us they'd go away, but even the sight of one of Sweden's most eminent Queer Historians in a hula skirt and garland wasn't enough to frighten them off. Most disappointing!

Email just now reveals that Chris is coming over from Finland. Which makes me very happy. Phillip is planning to go back to that very same country , though, which doesn't. Friends! Unreliable bunch. But fun. More tomorrow.