Saturday Pub-Housewarming

Emily went out of town with the new boyfriend this weekend, so I found myself on my own. So on Friday night I just spent the time recovering from a hectic workday and catching up on "The Daily Show" online. But Saturday night was time for going out, and it was quite handy that some girls from the running club had decided to have a housewarming party. But as is the tradition with so many hash housewarming parties, you don't actually hold them at your house, you hold them at a pub!

A friend of mine who is a fellow Cambridge-and-Oxford type from the hash had been talking to me about going on weekend trips away before I started planning all of my Panama-and-Australia madness. She's a rather nice blonde doctor, a bit ditzy but nice enough company, so I agreed that could be a fun idea, given how crap I generally am at exploring Europe even though it's right at my doorstep. So originally we had been planning on going to dinner on Saturday night, but when this housewarming came up, we decided to push dinner to Sunday and go to this party instead.

It then came as a surprise when she called me on Thursday to say, "How would you feel if we invited HP along on our weekends away?" Although before I could even stammer a sort of response, she said, "Because she figured that we could have dinner at mine on Saturday before the pub party, and figure out which weekends we're free." And of course that's so awful, because the truth is that while I can tolerate HP well enough for a few hours in the evening when I don't have to talk to her for more than 10 minutes at a time, now you're asking me to spend a whole weekend travelling in a foreign country with her? The worst part is, while of course I can THINK this, actually saying so is another matter entirely. One can only be so b*tchy out loud, you know?

Anyway, on Saturday I got a text around noon from the Blonde Doctor, saying we were meeting at her place at 6. Given that I'd never totally agreed, I thought about saying I'd never gotten the text (as I hadn't seen it until about 3 PM, since I was at the gym), but after I was pretty much ready to go out for the evening at 5:30, I figured, "Why not?"

So I went out to catch a bus to her place, although would you believe it, the bus I needed whizzed past me as I was still running to the bus stop? I was so annoyed, I then ran ahead to the next bus stop, and the bus actually got stuck in traffic, allowing me to actually get to the next stop before the bus I should have originally caught in the first place! Result!!

I got to the Blonde Doctor's place, sat around petting her cat, and we waited, and waited, and waited for HP. Finally we got a call from her saying that she had only just made it to Victoria Station (at nearly 7:30), and at that point, by the time she got to the Blonde Doctor's place, it would be well after 8, and we wouldn't make it to the party before 9:30, which is late, even for London.

So instead we went to the party, and where I'd felt a bit guilty for eating before going to the Blonde Doctor's house (where she had said she was going to cook dinner), I was now a genius, having already eaten yummy Mexican food at home, and avoiding having to eat greasy pub food!

Yet this party was unfortunately dull, dull, dull, dull. I greeted the hosts, two absolutely lovely sisters, who thanked me for coming, and introduced me around to the other mix of friends who were there. Yet my goodness, I've never put forth so little effort for so little result! With the boys I talked to, I really tried everything. Books, sports, work, travel, how-do-you-know-the-hostess, i-hear-you're-in-a-choir, but I swear it seemed like they couldn't do anything beyond give monosyllabic answers or contribute towards a more extensive conversation. And I'm not one of those girls who finds a party without boys to be dull, I enjoy talking to girls just as much if they're interesting. But even on that front, it was total misery. At first I wondered if the party was so dull because I wasn't drinking, but parties should be interesting whether you have alcohol in your system or not, right? A person as hyper-social as me should be able to be a teetotaller and still have a good time, but this party was just hurting.

The only really interesting part of the evening was where one of the sisters introduced me to her boyfriend (who I didn't know she had), and she asked me if I was dating anyone, as I had assumed she knew I was single. Funny how you can think you know people pretty well and then realise you don't actually. But even as I had a conversation with one of the boys from the hash about being single, I just had the thought, "I am bored. I am not meeting anyone interesting, the music is too loud, and even though 10 PM might seem a bit too early to head home on a Saturday night, what on earth are you going to gain by staying here?" So I found my coat, said good-bye to the hosts (I'll admit, I dodged seeing the Blonde Doctor, just doing my conflict avoidance-thing), and slipped out.

Got home, changed into my pyjamas, and was a very happy camper to be home early on a Saturday night!

NYTimes Article On Understanding Love

So there was a really interesting article in the NY Times recently entitled "A Bachelor's Effort to Understand Love".

It was the story of a bachelor who had fallen in love with a woman, and was so blown away by this experience of falling in love, that he decided to interview lots of people and write a book, entitled, "Us: Americans Talk About Love." And so he's written this book filled with stories of people who fell in love, who fell out of love, who couldn't get over ex-boyfriends, or who couldn't get over the death of their spouse after a happy 50-year marriage. All sorts of stories about love. But in the article, I was most intrigued by this quote:

“At a certain point, one wants it all to stop, and just to settle down and be boring and normal,” he said. “And that’s absolutely who I’ve become now. I will be the happiest person on this planet when I have kids. I do think it’s a bummer to be playing around with your kids in your 50s as opposed to in your 30s, but that’s the way the cookie crumbled.”

Later, in one of several late-night phone calls when Mr. Bowe seemed less guarded, he speculated about his chances of finding love at this point in his life. “I think it’s a very arrogant gamble I made in a way,” he said. “I’ll have time to set up a career that fulfills my spiritual goals and then have time for a relationship afterwards. If I’m right, then I’m the coolest guy in the world. If I’m wrong, I’m a loser.”

“The goal was always to avoid being that surly alcoholic guy who didn’t live up to his dreams and blamed the wife and kids for that,” he added. “So, you make your calculations, you roll the dice and you hope you’re right that there’s time after you make it to then join the human race and have a normal emotional life.”

I was intrigued by his phrase, of it all being an "arrogant gamble". Because every time I go home and visit my friends and their incredibly adorable kids, I realise that's exactly what I've done, in a way... My friends say to me, "Wow, you live an amazing life!" And sometimes I even don't think about it, as I say to my boss, "I'm going to Panama at the end of February, and then I'm planning on going to Australia in April", and he laughs and exclaims, "That's so amazing that you can just do that!" After all, it's the title of this blog, "Adventures Without Kids", because it's all about the things I get to do since I don't have kids yet. Sure, it's incredible now, but is it an "arrogant gamble"? After all, while I'm sure to never end up one of those people who regrets never having done anything, never having had any adventures, on the other side of the coin, you realise that you're making an awfully big bet.

Still, I was at a party the other night, and just bored to death standing around talking to boys who couldn't be bothered to tuck their shirts in or carry on a decent conversation. (Perhaps it should have been a sign that the chap I was talking to was not the most exciting mind when he told me, "Well, it's not that I prefer non-fiction or fiction, it's just that I don't read much.") And the thought occurred to me, "If you ended up with one of these guys, you'd have to tolerate this level of conversation even when you were alone, just the two of you." And I realised, perhaps I haven't made an arrogant gamble, I'm just still playing out my hand... The game isn't over yet!!

Happy Australia Day!

I had a terrible case of insomnia last night, where after lying in bed for 2 hours and accomplishing nothing more than staring at the ceiling, I decided to just give up and break out my laptop. So imagine my delight to find that on Australia Day, I found myself talking to real Australians in real time! My former flatmate, Amy, had written me an e-mail telling me about the Australia Day BBQ she was about to go to, and made me incredibly jealous at the thought of sunshine, grilling, and beer, while I was shivering in London. Sounded marvellous...

Also, an old friend from the hash, C Dogg, caught me on GChat, and we had a good time catching up a bit, and he actually asked me for some help with some work stuff he was doing. Even more incredibly, I was actually able to help, and so we used our work accounts to write back-and-forth a bit and catch up. Everyone down there seems psyched for me to come visit, so I am getting even more eager to go. Plus, C Dogg was always one of those rare pleasures in life, a guy much like Matt whose eyes always seemed to light up when he saw me, eager to slow his pace to run with me or come talk to me after our runs. I've missed him tons, and can hardly wait to see him again.

Finally I went to sleep, in hopes of being alert for my own Australia Day celebrations! They came in the evening with our weekly run, where there was an Australia Day theme. I tried to put together something vaguely yellow and green (like the Wallaby colours), but I'm not really sure it worked...

When I arrived, I set about the usual task of trying to collect money from everyone. Now that I don't have to worry about Cute Non-Drinking Guy showing up and this task taking me away from my opportunities to talk to him, I have to admit I rather enjoy it, as it gives me an excuse to talk to everyone. Which is how I ended up talking to the new guy, Pete, who was here at his first run. Seemed like a nice enough guy, and kind of cute too. So you can imagine my mortification when after the run I got him talking a bit (he seemed quite awkward about socialising, so I was trying to draw him out) and he mentioned that he was taking some time off after HIGH SCHOOL before starting at Harvard!! The kid was 18!! Yikes, no wonder he looked so adorable, yet was so socially awkward! And he must have thought I was old enough to be his mother!!

Still, at least I like to think that I did a good job of introducing him around and making sure he had people to talk to. One thing about having this job of running around getting money from everybody means that I'm learning to be a better social hostess. Although it's great when you've got a piece of paper where you can write everybody's name down on it...

The run itself was actually really good, with lots of loops and turns that enabled me to keep up with the group. We ended up having a re-group outside of the Australian Embassy, where we all sang the Australian national anthem, "Advance Australia Fair". They even passed out little pieces of paper with the lyrics and everything, except that nobody aside from the Australians knew the tune!

Although that does bring up the question, "How good are you at singing the National Anthems of other countries?" I can do "God Save the Queen", but at this point I'm not sure that can properly be considered a foreign national anthem (and I subconsciously still always want to sing "My Country 'Tis of Thee" every time I sing it). I could probably start into "O Canada" and just try to wing it after the first line, although I know after having attempted the South African national anthem, that there's no way anybody can do that. It's in five languages, one of them being Xhosa (that African language with all of the clicks!)

In the end, I think they should have had us sing "Waltzing Matilda", because I think there would have at least been a chance of us knowing the tune to that one!

We finally ended up back at the pub, where do to my efficient crowd circulation earlier, I was finally able to enjoy myself and have a drink. Although admittedly after that run, I really only wanted water, but a pint of Fosters really seemed like the proper way to mark the day...

So then I found myself trapped in a conversation with Blunder for a bit (Blunder's a nice enough chap, but too much the old boy rugby player who doesn't know when to stop rambling or drinking), and caught the eye of ToyBoy, a newer hasher who I had spoken to earlier. Gave him a smile and a wink to both indicate I'd caught him looking at me and to indicate I was slightly bored with the conversation I was in, that I'd much prefer to be talking to him. He smiled and blushed, and I must say he has such a nice smile...

Upon spotting this, Blunder just laughed and said to me, "Okay, you can go now and go talk to the cute boy." I guess Blunder could see where my interests were! I just had to giggle and say, "Thank you, Blunder!"

Indeed, I did spend quite a bit of time talking to ToyBoy, (he found me rather quickly after I escaped Blunder), although since he'd brought a friend with him, I couldn't monopolize his conversation, plus there were other people I needed to talk to there as well. I had a good time talking to Nat and her boyfriend Kenny, who although he isn't the most naturally social of creatures, I'll give him a great deal of credit for always making an effort with his girlfriend's friends. Basically, he'd do anything for her, which includes making polite conversation with me!

Also was surprised when Princess specifically came to talk to me, for while we are friends and see each other often, he almost never does that, making a special effort to talk to me. I kind of wonder if it's because he's not drinking these days (training for the marathon), and hence enjoys my more interesting and sober conversation? As it was, we ended up talking tons about yoga. Go figure.

Finally it was time for everyone to go home. ToyBoy left, giving me a kiss and flashing me that lovely smile. You know when the word to describe a boy is quite simply "sweet"? Yeah, I felt like I'd already had dessert talking to him...

Headed home, walking under the shadow of the giant Monument to the Great Fire (called, with typical British creativity, "The Monument"), shivering in the dark cold, but still feeling a bit of Australia Day sunshine inside.

Back to Running

Now that it was the New Year and I was finally back from the US, it was time to go back for my first hash of the 2010.

I got a pleasant surprise when shortly after I arrived, I turned around to see Cute Non-Drinking Guy standing next to me! My delight was short-lived however, when he told me why he was there. "I'm actually here to say good-bye. I'm going to Australia for the next 8 months."

You know how sometimes you get these bits of news that totally blindside you, and so you paste a smile on your face and start chattering inanely, because you're just so stunned and are trying to just hold it together? Yeah, that was me. I kept smiling and asking him questions about what he would be doing (still programming work, but he'd quit his old job and had a new one that had him moving to Australia on an 8-month contract), but I have to admit I was reeling a bit. I won't begrudge anyone their quarter-life crisis, given how valuable mine was to me, and how it changed my life for the better. He seemed restless and unsure when I met him, so I hope that this grand adventure gives him the chance to "find himself" the way mine did for me.

Yet I will miss him. For all of his frustrations, he was an unexpected treat every time I saw him, a guaranteed smile in my day. I felt sometimes like a rat in a Skinner box on a variable reinforcement scheme, continually showing up in the hopes that today might be the day he'd be there. As I've said before, he makes me smile so much my cheeks hurt. Which I have to admit, even as he was saying good-bye to me, he still managed to do.

I figured it was our last chance to stay in touch (and who knows? I may end up in Australia in April), so I asked him for his e-mail address. He seemed a bit weird about putting it in the hash book, but when I suggested he add it to my "To Do" list at the back of the book, he complied. But really, what's so weird about giving me your e-mail? I continue to be confused by this guy, who would make a special trip out to the hash just to see me (he wasn't running, he just came to find me and say good-bye), yet has these weird hesitations about continued contact with me? I just don't get it. Don't get it at all.

The run itself was fair enough, although I kept up with the group well for the first 45 minutes, running along canals and down interesting streets, I eventually got lost and just grabbed a bus back to the pub. Admittedly, because I had already been so far into the run by the time I got lost, I was pretty late back to the pub.

When I made it to Euston station (the start point for the run, with the pub close by) I ran into one of the RAs for the run, who seemed as startled to run into me as I was to him. Alas, although I greeted him fondly, he was in a foul mood, apparently having been sick (and still somewhat sick) with glandular fever. I suppose it's asking a lot of sick people to be of cheerful disposition, but of course it was a bit off-putting nonetheless...

Once back at the pub, I set about collecting money from various people, but in a small pub, it was hard to make my way around. Particularly since the bar staff had insisted that we collect our bags right away, I was struggling to maneuver in the pub dragging my bags too. So you can imagine my shock and horror when I put my bags down at one point, to see that I had my coat, my gym bag....but where was my laptop bag? My laptop, my house keys, my wallet, everything had been in that bag. I will admit, I totally started to freak out. Told people near me, walked back to where I had been standing, what on earth had happened to it. Tried not to think about quite how dead I would be if I lost my work laptop.

Just as I was nearly about to cry, I ran outside. Of course, if I'd left my bag outside, what chance did I have? Undoubtedly someone walking along would have just picked it up, right? It was gone then, for sure.

As I stood in the doorway of the pub, wide-eyed with panic, one of the younger hashers saw me and asked, "Are you looking for this?" with a cheeky grin. Apparently, about a half-hour earlier I had simply stood up and walked away from my laptop bag, but clever boy that he is, he decided to keep an eye on it! I wasn't sure whether to hug him with relief, or yell at him for letting me walk away from it like that! In the end, I went for the hug, I was just so relieved... Although I think that certainly taught me a lesson about hanging onto my laptop bag!!

At least an upside of collecting money is that it gives me an excuse to go talk to everyone on the hash, which is how I ended up talking to Max, this MASSIVE rugby player. He was there because Archie and Chocolate Starfish were back from Australia, and he had lived in the British Virgin Islands at the same time that Chocolate Starfish had lived there, so he was grabbing the opportunity to visit. Normally on Tuesdays however, he had rugby practice, as he was apparently a semi-professional rugby player. Trust me, this guy was so huge, I had no problems believing his story, he easily looked like a professional rugby player.

And of course it goes without saying that this guy was very cute. Okay, so large as to be slightly intimidating, but of course that sent my brain off on a weird tangent, wondering, "What would it be like to sleep with a guy that big?" I mean, he was basically one giant solid muscle, and could probably crush me with his big toe. Hence, it would be kind of scary if he ever fell on top of you, but oh those muscles would be quite interesting to see without a shirt on...

Alas, when I joked about how he was drinking orange juice (I had assumed because he was in training), he assured me it was just is January detox, as he stated, "My liver is only 23 years old, I'm trying to stay friends with it so it will stick around for a few more years!" Oh no, why did you have to tell me that you were only 23? Okay, so there's no possibility there, but at least I did enjoy the pleasant experience of talking to a boy who is obviously capitvated by me. There is something about having a cute ginger-haired boy gazing down at you that will make you smile (and even stop thinking for a bit about other cute boys headed to Australia).

Although I really should have taken an opportunity to leave before 10 PM, it almost seemed to early to go home, so I stayed talking to people, rescuing a new girl, Kim, from a conversation with AC, a guy who has Aspergers and hence no idea when people are trying to politely end their conversation with him. So I jumped in, dragged her away, and luckily he realised that there was no way I was going to include him in the conversation, so he wandered off... (Perhaps I'm mean, but with truly socially clueless people, I'm not quite sure they even perceive the rudeness). I like Kim though, and I want to make sure she stays around instead of becoming scared off by people like AC!

Alas, my failure to make a timely departure meant that I didn't get out of there until after 11, but at least it was a good night out back at the hash. Lost a cute boy but met another, and was reassured that there are still possibilities out there...

Sara's Drinks Party

In the morning when we woke up, I cooked breakfast for both Zhan and Emily, some toast and eggs. It was all very civilized, just hanging out, eating breakfast together, although surprisingly fun. Sometimes there's really nothing quite like a lazy Sunday group breakfast. It was always a favourite thing to do with Nikola after every weekend I stayed with him, and I can see why he enjoyed it so much, it's just such a great Sunday ritual.

After a while, I went to lunch at my club with Zhan, so he could check it out. Admittedly we were going on a Sunday for lunch so Zhan could go without needing a jacket and tie, as "smart casual" dress is allowed on the weekends before 6 PM. Admittedly, we were both drinking water, but we had a nice meal and I hope Zhan enjoyed the club, but it's definitely a different dynamic having lunch in a nearly empty club vs dinner on a weeknight...

After lunch, Zhan went to meet some old friends from Cambridge, while I went to a drinks party being hosted by an old friend from Cambridge at her flat in Pimlico.

Once at the flat, I ran into a guy I'd known at Cambridge, also named Adrian. Charming Irish guy, he's a real sweetheart, I used to play polo with him as well, and he even wrote for the Polo Times for a while too. We had a good time talking and catching up, as well as confusing everyone who was introduced to us. ("Wait, you're BOTH named Adrian?") He's such a stellar guy, it sort of confirms my theory that all Adrians are awesome people.

As we were talking about his current work for the Conservative Party, the upcoming election, and how all Irish people seem to know each other (we have a mutual friend from my Oxford days in common), his friend James showed up. Wow, startlingly handsome, in a classic, public-school English boy kind of way. Think of Hugh Grant in his early days.

I had a lovely time becoming deeply ensconced in conversation with the English Public Schoolboy, although it was one of those situations where I wasn't sure if he was truly interested, or I was simply the cutest girl at the party to talk to. I've run into that situation before, and while I certainly don't mind it (the English Public Schoolboy was certainly the only boy there that I was interested in talking to), it's still not quite as ideal as a genuine connection.

It turns out that he had just come back from a weekend of camping while trying out for the Royal Marines, so it's not like we would suit in the long-term anyway. Apparently he's a real thrill-seeker type, the kind of guy who jumps out of planes and bikes in central London because he likes to live on the edge. Although, talking to him and learning about his all-boys schooling background and how much more at ease he was in conversation with Adrian than he was with me, he could also be the classic military type who joins the military simply because they are more comfortable in the company of men. Not that they don't like women, they just have no idea what to do with them.

To this point, I was surprised at one point in our conversation when he asked me how I found British men and dating. I made the point (that everyone seems to agree on) that British men don't really know how to ask women out. He gave me a smile and said, "Yeah, we're rubbish at that," leaving me utterly confused. Was that being flirtatious and making the point that he wished he could ask me out? Or was that just him being nice? Really, it was so classically English, no wonder I was thinking of him as the perfect English Public Schoolboy! (Still, an irrepressibly cute one, in the way that the early Huge Grant movies made you adore him even as he was being almost annoyingly shy and uncommunicative).

Of course, as I was in the midst of this shy-yet-intensely-flirtatious conversation, I was annoyed to find a Very Large Harvard-American girl attempting to squeeze into our conversation. Now, I'm normally all for being super socially welcoming and not exclusing people from conversation, but please people, you're supposed to try to break into a conversational group that already has at least 3 people in it, or at least try not to break in on the couple who have so clearly sectioned themselves off in the corner to get to know each other better! Couldn't this girl see that I was trying to talk to a realy cute boy?

Alas, the Very Large Harvard-American girl did not seem to pick up on this, and after I was left with the choice of including her in conversation or seeming incredibly rude, she talked to us for a bit, before the English Public Schoolboy, sensing that his opportunity to just talk to me one-on-one had passed, announced it was time for him to go. Hence our parting was a bit awkward, as you could tell he would have liked to talk to me more, except we hadn't spent enough time talking to really get to the exchanging information stage, and we also now had an overly intrusive audience in the form of the Very Large Harvard-American girl. In the end, it was just one of those tragic situations where you just had to let it go.

With the English Public Schoolboy gone, I would have made my excuses and left at that point as well, except for that my flatmate had just texted to say that she was on her way, so I really had no choice except to stay. And then once my flatmate arrived, I had to stay longer and make conversation to really give my flatmate an opportunity to stick around and socialize as well.

Out of boredom, I made myself a really strong G&T with Hendricks (how nice to have friends who offer you the good stuff!), and then proceeded to talk to somebody's boyfriend about my favourite read of the summer, Mary Roach's book "Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex." I really have to stop talking to total strangers about sex research, it really must be giving people the wrong impression of me!

Finally, my flatmate was ready to head home, and I was only too eager to jump at the opportunity to get out of there. So alas, not much happened, but there are worse ways to spend an afternoon than talking to charming cute English Public Schoolboy-types!

Zhan's Birthday

Tonight was my friend Zhan's birthday. Zhan is a great friend from Oxford, a classic PhD-scientist type (he's overly logical in how he thinks, almost like the character Sheldon from the television show "The Big Bang Theory"), which I think is somewhat of what makes women confusing to him (those silly things like "emotions" seem to perplex him), but I doubt you could find a more loyal and wonderful friend anywhere. Hence why a few years ago he had a birthday party, and 32 people showed up, totally overwhelming the restaurant we were at, forcing a last-minute change to another restaurant, which amazingly managed to seat 32 people on a moment's notice. As the years have gone on, we no longer have 32 people showing up for Zhan's birthday party, but even with people spread out between Oxford and London, people still made the effort to come out, because Zhan's just that kind of guy, who inspires that loyalty in his friends.

Zhan decided to have his birthday party down in London this year, to make things easier for the majority of his friends who now live in London, travelling down from Oxford himself. Given that he was sure it was going to be a late night, he asked if he could crash with me, which was nice, to have him there too.

He admittedly arrived just as we needed to turn around and leave to be at the restaurant by 6:30 PM, but when we got there and joined the crowd, it turned out that we couldn't get a table until 7:30 PM. Yet the waitress promised that if we returned preciely at 7:30, she would have a table for us.

So then we went to another place nearby for drinks (luckily we were at Westfield, the largest shopping mall in all of Europe, so there were plenty of options), and just sat around having drinks and catching up with people. As I knew I was going to spend most of my time talking to Nikola (one of my best friends in the world, so of course it just works that way), I did try to give him an opportunity to catch up with other people as we moved around, although I still bought him a drink, something that he seemed weirdly uncomfortable with. Dude, I see you all of the time and I'm one of your best friends. What's wrong with buying you a drink? Alas, I think it's the "girl buying a guy" a drink thing, he's just too much of a gentleman to really every be okay with that. In which case, I think it's kind of sweet.

We got to dinner and of course I sat next to Nikola, and we ended up chatting about everything from the book he'd gotten Zhan (Malcolm Gladwell's "What the Dog Saw", a book I've been reading in increments in airport bookstores) to Tim's recent visit. It was rather reassuring to both of us, I think, that Tim had seemed kind of weird to both of us, that we hadn't been imagining things. We talked about various things he'd said, trying to divine what on earth was going on, but in the end neither of us had a clue. It's kind of sad though, to feel somewhat distant from one of your very close friends, without a clue as to why he was acting that way. In some ways then, good for the two of us to connect on that one... Mostly though, it's just always good to see Nikola, one of my dearest friends in the world. It's always good to have friends like that, who are just a joy to see, whenever you get to catch up with them.

After dinner, we went for one more drink at another bar, where I had a Long Island Iced Tea and debated with people why nobody from Long Island ever drank them (and eventually concluded that it was because the name was moderately insulting). I sat next to a chap who was starting medical school, and of course stupidly started talking about Mary Roach's book "Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex", because that is stupidly always the most fascinating topic I want to talk about these days.

When that bar closed at 11 PM, we debated going to the Defector's Weld, but since Wetherspoons was nearby and it was raining, Zhan, Flori, the medical student and I all ended up there. Given that all of the drinks were only £1, Zhan bought the round (quite significant if you realise what a skintflint he is), until finally we all headed home at 11:30 PM. I got the sense that Zhan wasn't quite ready for the night to end, but we were all tired and ready to head home before we missed the last Tube!

Zhan and I then walked home together, I think feeling all warm and fuzzy after a nice birthday and a great night out with good friends...

Burns Night

I guess you could tell after yesterday's saga that I was tired, for I didn't set an alarm in the morning, and even amazed myself by not waking up until 12:45 PM. Nearly 13 hours of sleep! I guess I needed it!!

When it started snowing mid-day, I called and ordered a cab for the evening, figuring it would be £13 well-spent to not have to worry about trekking through the snow in my dress and heels.

Of course, despite having specifically told the cab company to send a cab at 6:40 PM, I got a call at 6:30 PM that it was already there. So I had to hurry and finish my hair and make-up, and all of my plans of wearing a fancy coat were thrown out the window, as I just grabbed my regular pea coat and ran out the door. In the end, I just decided to pin my hair up in curls, and of course only remembered to take a picture of it at the end of the evening when it was already starting to come undone:

The cab then got me to the event right on time, so I could make it into the cocktail hour and look for people I knew. It was hideously dull for quite a while, as I was forced into conversation with people I didn't know, but it at least saved me from the awkward looks and avoidance of the only people I recognised, two Scottish blokes I'd hooked up with after previous events like this one.

Of course what annoys me most is that nothing really happened with either of them, beyond a short make-out session with one and some awkward snuggling on a deflated air-mattress with the other. So now I get all of the awkward fall-out of a hook-up, without even having gotten the hook-up? That seems hideously unfair.

Eventually I spotted Caroline across the room, so I took the opportunity to escape the tedious conversation I was stuck in with strangers to make my way over to say hello to her, but got waylaid when I ran into Doro and Elana on the way. Given that they're both much more charming than tedious strangers, I was only too happy to say hello. Apparently Doro's boyfriend was originally supposed to come with her, but he'd gotten busy with work, so Elana was a last-minute replacement. How dull, to miss an event like this for something as mundane as work!

Then we were all called to attention as one of the members of the Caledonian Club read aloud a stirring version of ‘Scots Wha Hae’, apparently a traditional poem by Robbie Burns, imagining what William Wallance must have said to inspire his troops to battle before some famous conflict (I can't remember what they said). It was actually really lovely to hear the traditional Scottish poems spoken by true Scotsmen with the proper accent, rather than so many people trying desperately to affect the right accent as has been the case at some other Burns Nights I've been to.

We then filed into dinner and found our places, where I found to my relief that I was not seated at the dreaded long table on the edge (who on earth every came up with that hideous idea for a seating plan?), but rather at one of the shorter tables with people all around me. The man seated to my right was married, and anyway he and his wife pretty exclusively talked to the couple across from them. The man to my left was Greek, nice enough but somewhat hard to understand at times.

I therefore ended up spending most of the evening talking to a 32-year old British banker of Italian heritage with a very Italian name, so hence he shall be referred to as "Italian Guy" even though he was English. Even though I hadn't taken notice of him at first, we chatted on aimiably enough throughout the dinner, bonding over the fact that he used to live in New York, and all that is wonderful about that city. Yet justas I was starting to reconsider him, he mentioned that he was allergic to garlic. Now I'm not usually a huge one for dealbreakers, as the only one I really have is smoking (definitely do not want to be kissing a guy who smells like an ashtray). But it was amazing how quickly learning the "no garlic" fact so quickly changed my perceptions of a man who up until that point had been looking rather cute, to suddenly realising that he was rather impatient and curt with people, too quick to critisize, and not seeming that interested in conversation at all. Something about our disagreement on the garlic issue just let us both know we weren't suited for each other.

At the start of dinner, we stood for the Selkirk Grace, and then the haggis was piped in, with bagpipes leading in front of a chef carrying the haggis. Then the "Address to a Haggis" was read (with quite a flourished stab of the haggis with a dirk), and then dinner was served. Those around me didn't seem to realise that the little glass of whiskey at their plates was for pouring on the haggis, and didn't seem inclined to believe me no matter how much I insisted on it!

We then settled back to listen to the entertaining "Toast to the Lassies", which was full of jokes like, "A lucky man is one who makes more money than his wife can spend. A lucky woman is a woman who can find such a man." In years past, when the Toast to the Lassies has been more filled with personal jokes about the women present (as the crowd all knew each other), there has also been a Response from the Lassies, but in this case, at the end of the toast, the men all stood and raised their glasses to the women, settling the matter that we may drive them crazy, but they can't live without us anyway. Rater lovely, in its way.

We then had dessert, and then they announced that there was going to be a break, while we all went downstairs for a bit. Yet right before this, the Italian Guy knocked over his water glass and spilled it all over me. What on earth is it with men spilling drinks on me these days? Luckily it was just water, and I was wearing the same black dress I had been wearing when water was spilled on me previously, but it was hugely annoying, particularly because this guy didn't seem cute about it or quick to want to buy me a drink to make ammends, it was just an "Oh, sorry" kind of thing. As though the garlic allergy wasn't the only thing going against him?

During the short break downstairs, I found Caroline, but she was without her boyfriend Brian, which I found to be rather interesting. I didn't ask her about it (maybe he was just busy with work), but it still made me curious how she didn't mention him at all.

After about 20 minutes, we all went back upstairs, but I couldn't tell what the break had been for at all, as our tables and glasses were still all in place, just as we had left them. We then sat there listening to the Immortal Memory, a speech given by an invited gust about Robert Burns. The guy unfortunately had really mis-judged his audience, for while it was mildly interesting at first, it went downhill quickly, and we were all bored to death. At least for most of the time we were kept occupied by the fact that they had put an entire bottle of whiskey on each table, but then one of the girls at the table poured nearly all of it (about six fingers worth, instead of the standard two fingers) into one chap's glass. I think as a joke, but it was really incredibly rude to everyone else at the table (as the chap then didn't drink it), and what a waste of good whiskey!

Finally the speech was over and we finished with one last round of the bagpiper piping around the room, and then we all stood up, crossed arms and linked hands, and sang "Auld Lang Syne". As you do at Scottish events!

After dinner we ended up back downstairs, and I spotted a guy wearing a Wyverns tie, indicating that he had been to Magdalene (and he looked vaguely familiar too). I wanted to go talk to him, but I was unfortunately stuck in conversation with Italian Guy and two very dull girls who didn't seem to have anything interesting to say. Yet I could tell they were just Manolo's speed, so I extricated myself from the conversation to go find the Wyverns-tie-guy.

It was funny because much of the group had migrated from the drawing room to the bar at that point, and so it took me a while to find him. Yet once I did, he had the exact same reaction to my puzzled statement that, "I know you." He instantly said, "I know you too!" It turned out it was Marcus, from Magdalene, as soon as he said his name I remembered him from the JCR. We bonded pretty quickly and got to chatting, bringing Doro (another fine Magdalene-ite) into the conversation too. Why do I run into so many Magdalene people at these events, but so few Balliol people?

At some point, the guy who was chatting with Doro decided to buy me another whiskey, which I thought was rather nice of him. Given that women are not normally allowed in the Caledonian bar, it's always nice to have a gent taking care of you there!

I then really got talking to Doro, and in the course of our conversation it was revealed that Elana is in the Territorial Army, and Doro started telling me lots of stories about Elana that gave me a whole new regard for her. Perhaps I haven't warmed to Elana instantly, but sounds like she's perhaps someone who I should make more of an effort to get to know.

I was then also surprised when Neighbour Guy's name came up in the conversation, first and lasat name, so there was no confusing who she was talking about. Just to be sure, I also checked that it was the same guy sitting at our table during the Reverse Dinner, which it was. Turns out that Elana and Neighbour Guy know each other, yet even when they were sitting at the same table at the Reverse Dinner, I couldn't recall them exchanging even there merest of pleasantries. WTF?

That little tidbit of information certainly adds an interesting wrinkle to the whole story. After all, boys and girls who know each other but don't talk to each other is usually a sign of a former hook-up whenver I've encountered it...usually not one that ended well... I will admit, I'd texted him right when I returned from the US to ask if he was coming to this event, and he never responded, which even if you're not interested is really kind of rude. You start to realise that although someone might be nice and charming, if they're 34-years old and single, you begin to wonder why...

Then I ran into Liza in the hallway, a Russian girl who I've seen at a number of these events, and she insisted that we've run into each other enough now, that we should exchange numbers! Sounded like a good plan, so we did.

Finally, it was time to leave. I went to get my coat (the coat-check girl had long since gone home, so we just had to stumble around in the coat room ourselves looking for our things), and I said good-bye to a few people I knew who were hanging out in the library. Finally, the Big Scottish Bloke who I'd spent a night curled up on a deflated air-mattress with finally acknowledged me, at least with a gentle nod and a wave goodnight. The whole evening (as though the Christmas Ball in December hadn't been a reminder enough), that it's never a good idea to hook-up with men you know you will see again, as it only becomes awkward. Boys are funny like that, always wanting to hook-up with girls but then having no idea how to talk to them afterwards... It's a strange situation but one more reason to always go home alone, I guess!

Outside, I gave Marcus a kiss good-bye as he was out there smoking a cigarette, then flagged a cab and headed home. It was a lovely event, but I was a tad bit annoyed that not a single guy had seem interested in making a move on me the entire evening. I guess it's really time for that January diet!!

Home in London

In the interests of keeping this blog even mildly up-to-date, I've decided to just skip the time of my entire Christmas break at home, and fill that information in at another time. But check back for updated entries about the Christmas break!! For now, on with the story back in London...

They say all good things must come to an end, and alas that was true of my time in New York. After one last day of similarly unproductive telecommuting, my parents drove me to the airport.

Despite all of the problems that there had been with an attempted terrorist attack on a flight to Detroit on Christmas Day, and numerous flight delays with snowstorms in both New York and London, I absolutely flew through security, and had plenty of time to read random books in the Hudson News before boarding my flight.

I sat at the gate for a while, and was amazed at the crowds of people trying to get on standby seats on the flight, as apparently with all of the storms, there were people who had been trying for days to get out. Of course, the trend of people who seem to be unaware of the rules of flying continued, with someone putting their bag down in front of the gate desk and then walking away from it, causing airport security to be called in to confiscate and dispose of it. (No idea if the person whose bag it was managed to retrieve it from airport security, but then again you almost feel like they deserved to lose it, for being so idiotic about it).

Luckily with Priority Access, I boarded the plane early, and got settled into my seat. I didn't talk too much to the guy sitting next to me, except to make jokes about the people who had somehow gotten onto the plane with an oversized carryon, but weren't willing to admit that it wasn't going to fit in the overhead bin. I almost feared a flight without movies after it turned out that the touch screen function on my movie screen wasn't working, but then the flight attendant showed me how to operate it using the buttons on my armrest. Duh, I should have figured that out for myself.

Yet it turned out that all of the movies were the exact same ones that there had been on my flight over in December. That surprised me, as usually they rotate in a new group of movies every month, but now there was really nothing worth watching. So after checking out a few TV shows, I just turned over and did my best to get some sleep.

Once the flight landed, I was pretty quick off the plane (the advantages of sitting near the front), and was delighted to discover that there was no like at the IRIS scanner, and even better than that, I got through it on my first try, without even a single automated "Please back up a little" announcement.

Since I had checked a bag, I went to get a luggage cart before picking up my bag, figuring that it would take a while for the bags to be unloaded and come out on the baggage claim. So you can imagine my surprise when I approached the baggage claim to see my duffel bag already having made a circuit of the entire baggage claim, and about to disappear back into the dark hole of the other side! So I ran as fast as I could, and luckily made it in time to pick it up before it went away to go make another circuit. I guess when the American Airlines people put that "Priority" tag on my bag, they really meant it! Hence, with everything going so smoothly, my plane landed at 9:30 AM and I was back in my flat at 10:40 AM. Not bad, eh?

I then worked for the entire day, intending to try to squeeze in a nap at some point, as I was supposed to go out to dinner that evening with a male Cambridge friend, his wife, and a friend of the wife. Alas, somehow with all of the work I'd fallen behind on over the break, it never happened, I just powered on through with a LOT of Diet Coke, my favourite "nap in a can".

Meeting Cambridge Friend and his wife in the evening was interesting, because I'm friends with the Cambridge Friend, and don't know his wife as anything more than a passing acquaintance. Even more interesting is that the Cambridge Friend always likes to IM me at work when he's bored, and the conversations always seem to get onto the topic of sex, as Cambridge Friend is incredibly curious about it, having saved his virginity until his wedding night (quite a feat when you consider he was 29 when he married). Of course, how much he seems to still obsess about it, particularly about what is normal and how frequent it should be, makes me wonder how fulfilled his marriage is sexually. Particularly as Cambridge Friend has admitted to having been attracted to me when we were at Cambridge together, you can tell his feelings towards me are a bit confused (even though I don't think he would ever cheat on his wife, he's just not that kind of guy).

Yet, when you consider all of this background context, perhaps you can understand why dinner was an odd experience. I was half-off my face, hyped up on Diet Coke after having been awake for nearly 48 hours continuously. No wine for me because it would have put me to sleep, and no wine for them because they are hyper-religious and don't drink. And me trying to be charming and entertaining, but instead of a relaxed conversation with my old friend (despite the weird history, we get along brilliantly, which is perhaps why our conversations are a bit too open and forthright at time), I was constantly trying to think of innocuous and amusing conversation that would involve his wife (who I barely know) and her friend (who I didn't know at all). And of course, the whole time my brain is fluttering all over the place as I attempt to stay awake and focused on the conversation.

In the end, dinner seemed to go well, and the next day Cambridge Friend wrote to me saying that they'd had a fabulous time and thanking me for having them to my club. So who knows?