I found myself to be super-jealous of everyone who went to the Rally for Sanity the day before, and spent much of my morning reading news about the events of the day before. Oh, how much fun it would have been to be there!
Still, after a casual morning of hanging out with my folks, and eating leftovers from Patio, it was time to head to the airport. I was still pretty tired, having been home for only 24 hours, but it was good to be home, if only so briefly. My mother sent me off with some packed chicken salad sandwiches (I'd forgotten about how they don't feed you on domestic flights anymore), and we made it to the airport in plenty of time, one of the first times I'd ever come to the airport in the middle of the day. I'm such a night-time flyer.
On the plane, it was a two-rows of three configuration, with one aisle down the middle, and I found myself chatting to the man sitting by the window (I was on the aisle) while everyone boarded, a cute young pilot going to Salt Lake for a training session. Originally from Texas, he now lived in Puerto Rico because his airline had a hub there, and he wanted to live somewhere as "foreign" as possible. We had a lovely conversation, so I was a bit dissapointed when the passenger sitting in the middle seat arrived, effectively ending our conversation because it would have been quite rude to talk across her.
When I landed, I called for my car, and it turned out that I was sharing a town car with two folks working for GE, and so I basically ended up chatting to the driver for the duration of the trip.
It took us about an hour to get to St. Charles, where I was staying in the downtown hotel, the Hotel Baker. I was disappointed to not be staying in the Q-Center, but such is life. As I checked in, there was a couple there all in wedding finery (he in a tux, she in her full wedding gown), still with some glow-in-the-dark necklaces on, obviously tired from having just finished up their wedding reception. Although the key point to note here is that it wasn't quite 8 PM!! They were done with their wedding and all the partying already?
That turned out to be forboding of what was to come, for when I finally decided I was hungry and went in search of food, the entire town seemed to be closed down, as there was no place offering food anywhere. In the end, I just decided to eat my sandwiches, which my mother had so cleverly packed for me, and then head off for an early bedtime. Seems like they do things differently here in St. Charles!!
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Saturday, 30 October 2010
My Own Personal Up in the Air
In the morning, the thought of trying to get all of my stuff with me on the night bus to the airport just seemed ridiculous, so since I knew that my company would pay for the cab as a business expense, I rang my usual cab company at 5:30 AM to find out how much a cab to the airport would cost. For £23, I was sold! They even already knew my address and sent a cab straight away, so before I knew it there was a cab waiting outside and it was time for me to leave my flat for the last time. Left the keys on the table and closed the door behind me, although I could hardly believe I would never be coming back!
I got to the airport ridiculously early (as the cab obviously took less time than the Tube), checked in for my flight, and eventually managed to board. I was excessively excited when I started talking to my seatmate, who turned out to be a real-life version of George Clooney in "Up in the Air", in that he had flown over 10 million miles! He even showed me his "Executive Platinum" card with the "10 million" in the corner to prove it. (And, as it turns out, they're nowhere near as rare as the movie makes them out to be. He said he asked and found out the group is much larger than 7, more like around 100 of them. And they don't get any special privileges for making the milestone). It was actually a super-cool flight, as the entire cabin crew seemed to know this guy, with one stewardess claiming, "This guy flies more than we do!" One of the coolest seatmates I've had in a long time. We exchanged cards, and I wonder if I shall seem him on a flight again sometime soon. (Alas, he did not look at all like George Clooney, but just like a guy who spent way too much time sitting on an airplane and eating airline food). Even as we landed, he warned me not to eat the pizza they'd offered as a snack, and after realising how bad it tasted, knew that he'd been right to warn me!
When I landed, my parents were waiting for me, which was great. Got loaded into the car and drove home, where we had some lunch and just hung out, although I was so tired (should have slept on the plane, but watched "Salt" instead), that eventually I had to lie down for a nap. Woke up in time to go out for dinner at Patio, my favourite local restaurant, which was nice but we had a sort of push waitress, in the end I wish we'd just gotten pizza and eaten at home.
The best part though was going to sleep in my own bed, which was just marvellous!
I got to the airport ridiculously early (as the cab obviously took less time than the Tube), checked in for my flight, and eventually managed to board. I was excessively excited when I started talking to my seatmate, who turned out to be a real-life version of George Clooney in "Up in the Air", in that he had flown over 10 million miles! He even showed me his "Executive Platinum" card with the "10 million" in the corner to prove it. (And, as it turns out, they're nowhere near as rare as the movie makes them out to be. He said he asked and found out the group is much larger than 7, more like around 100 of them. And they don't get any special privileges for making the milestone). It was actually a super-cool flight, as the entire cabin crew seemed to know this guy, with one stewardess claiming, "This guy flies more than we do!" One of the coolest seatmates I've had in a long time. We exchanged cards, and I wonder if I shall seem him on a flight again sometime soon. (Alas, he did not look at all like George Clooney, but just like a guy who spent way too much time sitting on an airplane and eating airline food). Even as we landed, he warned me not to eat the pizza they'd offered as a snack, and after realising how bad it tasted, knew that he'd been right to warn me!
When I landed, my parents were waiting for me, which was great. Got loaded into the car and drove home, where we had some lunch and just hung out, although I was so tired (should have slept on the plane, but watched "Salt" instead), that eventually I had to lie down for a nap. Woke up in time to go out for dinner at Patio, my favourite local restaurant, which was nice but we had a sort of push waitress, in the end I wish we'd just gotten pizza and eaten at home.
The best part though was going to sleep in my own bed, which was just marvellous!
Friday, 29 October 2010
The Last of the Move
Today was my last day in my old flat. In the AM, I moved the last few things that needed to move over to the new place (all of my sheets and blankets!), and then went into the office mid-day. I normally would have just stayed home, but I had promised my friend Christina that we would meet up for lunch. Alas, I got in too late to see my friend Rowan, but I did get to have a nice lunch with Christina and talk about this and that. She's obviously struggling to keep working while being uncomfortably pregnant, but seems to be keeping up good spirits, nonetheless.
After work I came back home, finished up the last of my packing, made myself some dinner (with the last bits of food I had around), and tried to finish up some work, before finally going to bed for a few hours sleep. Without any of my stuff left in the flat (and no sheets on my bed), I'm afraid I was shamelessly borrowing like mad from my flatmate, but I'm sure she won't ever know the difference.
It was ridiculously late before I finally finished packing and tumbled off into bed, but it would only be a few hours now before I had to get up again for my early flight and leave this flat for good...
After work I came back home, finished up the last of my packing, made myself some dinner (with the last bits of food I had around), and tried to finish up some work, before finally going to bed for a few hours sleep. Without any of my stuff left in the flat (and no sheets on my bed), I'm afraid I was shamelessly borrowing like mad from my flatmate, but I'm sure she won't ever know the difference.
It was ridiculously late before I finally finished packing and tumbled off into bed, but it would only be a few hours now before I had to get up again for my early flight and leave this flat for good...
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Moveable Feast at the Lansdowne
Tonight was the Inter-Club Moveable Feast at the Lansdowne Club, an event we all weren't even sure was happening until a few days in advance of it. Despite applying for tickets nearly a month before, the club didn't get back to us until Monday to let us know the dinner was on for Thursday. How odd!
Still, the dinner was on, and although my friend Doro wasn't going, she still had fun teasing me about it, saying on the morning of the event, "Fingers crossed the Landsdowne will throw you in the arms of a good catch. And, I still maintain that Super Social Scottish Guy has a bit of a thing for you."
I laughed and replied that of course I knew that Super Social Scottish Guy has a thing for me, as he always finds some excuse to get in touch with me and confirm that I'll be at every event he goes to. Indeed, shortly afterwards, I replied to her, "Just got the requisite FB chat message from Super Social Scottish GUy before the event... "Please remind what time our romantic date at the Lansdowne starts 2nite?"
Argh. I really hope I don't have to outright shoot this boy down at some point, as it would kill me to do that...awkward all around!"
So, my plans were settled for the evening, I was going to try to avoid the Super Social Scottish Guy as much as possible! In the end, I barely spoke with Super Social Scottish Guy all evening. I don't think I was actively avoiding him, but I definitely didn't make a huge effort either. I didn't just want to have to face any awkward situations...
Although, it was not like he was the only one finding weird reasons to get in touch. As I was getting ready to go out, I was surprised when my phone rang, and it was the Young Dutchman calling! Asking as well what time dinner was, and telling me that he'd be delighted to see me there.
Indeed, he was the first person I ran into as I came in the door, and just enjoyed chatting with him for a bit there. He's such a sweetie, I adore him so.
As for the dinner, it was a really good time, excellent for socializing and meeting some new people. Admittedly, in terms of
meeting eligible young men, I totally struck out. The first guy I sat with said, "Oh New York! I actually proposed to my fiancee at the top of the Empire State Building, so it's a really special place for us!" (He was to my left. On my right was Italian Guy, who is one of my favourite people to talk to, but he got stuck in conversation with the girl on HIS other side, so we didn't actually get to catch up until after the dinner). So anyway, not much of a connection there, but oh well, onto the main course...
So the chap who sat down next to me to my left excitedly exclaimed once he realised I was American, "Oh that's brilliant, as I've just finished my A-levels and was planning on applying to some American universities!" Okay, strike out two, although we did have a nice time talking about my undergraduate institution, Dartmouth, which is always a fun topic of conversation for me. (On my right was Mark, a member of the Hurlingham who I've met at the Lansdowne before, and was on his way towards engaging in his usual pattern of getting totally blotto for the evening, and therefore not really worth talking to). Now, onto dessert.
On my right was a young chap from the O&C, and he claimed not to be much involved but wanting to get more so. Alas, I'd stupidly forgotten to bring business cards with me, so I stole his name card and then sent him a friend-request the next day on Facebook. He took ages to get back to me but eventually did so, hence that's one more O&C member for the roster!
On my left was a guy who I actually had a fine time chatting to, so much so that at the end of the dinner we were actually one of the few remaining at the table just continuing to chat. At which point he said, "You're fabulous! Would you mind if I introduced you to my wife?" Ah, so it was strike three for three!! (His wife was lovely as well though!)
And hilariously, everyone I met that night sent me a friend-request on Facebook the next day, and I was having an amusing time watching my news feed, as tons of other people sent each other friend-requests as well. It was apparently a good evening for getting to know each other!
Poor Tristan arrived just in time for after-dinner drinks, as apparently he'd been stuck in his office the entire time and had
missed the whole thing! He was so annoyed, but hopefully calmed down after a few drinks...
I spent most of my time talking to Italian Guy, who was absolutely cracking up when I once again related the story of the guy who was terrible in bed. That may have gone spectacularly horribly as a relationship, but I must admit I've gotten some great cocktail party stories out of it! Manolo was doubled-over, saying that I had to write a book of my adventures, as he didn't know anyone who had such good stories as I do...
At the end of the evening, packed Tristan off in a cab with Sarah Walker (I always think the two of them would be a brilliant match, but I've never gotten the impression that anything has gone on between the two of them), and I found myself sharing a cab with a few other folks headed towards South Kensington and Earl's Court.
Weirdly, the traffic was horrific, due to some construction happening around Knightsbridge. So after we'd been stuck in the cab for over £10 and just made it out of the tunnel under Hyde Park Corner, we got out, and I found myself walking nearly the entire way home with a nice young chap who also happened to work for Accenture. We had a great time bitching about the company, and just generally had a nice late- night walk home. I gave him my name so he could contact me on the company e-mail system, which he did later the next week (although seriously to talk about work!) Oh well, but it was a pleasant evening overall!
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Drinks with Joel (and the Master!)
This evening I was due to have drinks with my friend Joel, who is one of my favourite people in the world. The only person who can make me laugh as much as my brother does, he's sometimes hard to get ahold of, but every time we get together it's like no time has passed at all. So we'd agreed to meet for drinks, and I informed Tristan that we'd be getting together if he wanted to join us.
I met up with Joel at the club, and just as always, he made me laugh my head off, even when he was critiquing my dating life, arguing that I don't go enough for nice boys. I worried that he would run off early, as he always does, and so was pleased when Tristan was running late, Joel called his girlfriend to say he wouldn't be home, and stayed around until his girlfriend could join us.
I'm a pretty slow drinker (which is sometimes my saving grace), but in an effort to make sure Joel stayed around, I made sure a new pint was waiting for him every time he returned from the loo, which made him laugh and admonish me that I could read his mind. Far too much fun.
Eventually, after numerous delays, Tristan joined us for a drink, seeming a bit frustrated by his work, but also glad for the opportunity to take a break and have a drink. So we enjoyed spending some time talking with him, and catching up there as well.
Finally Tristan decided to call it a night, but Joel and I were having so much fun, that we decided to settle in with two more drinks by the fire. We weren't there long however, when Joel spotted a familiar face by the bar. "Is that the Master of Magdalene College? Duncan Robinson, is that you?"
Indeed it was the Master, there with his wife! I'm not sure if they had any clue as to who we were, but given that we so obviously knew them, I'm sure they pretty quickly figured out that we were Magdalene alumns. The Master even mentioned how he'd been sorry to miss the recent Magdalene dinner, and hoped that we would schedule another one where he could attend!
I was then surprised when one of the bartenders came out and spoke to the Master (who had taken off his tie at this late point in the evening), and informed him that if he was going to be in the bar, he would need to put his tie on. I almost wanted to ask the bartender, "Don't you know who this IS??" But I guess the strict rules about jackets and ties apply to everyone, even the Master!
So we enjoyed the company and conversation of the Master a bit more, finished up our own drinks (I was really quite tipsy by this point, I'd definitely had one too many), and finally made our ways home. What a lovely evening though, with great company and the delightful bonus of getting to see the Master!
I met up with Joel at the club, and just as always, he made me laugh my head off, even when he was critiquing my dating life, arguing that I don't go enough for nice boys. I worried that he would run off early, as he always does, and so was pleased when Tristan was running late, Joel called his girlfriend to say he wouldn't be home, and stayed around until his girlfriend could join us.
I'm a pretty slow drinker (which is sometimes my saving grace), but in an effort to make sure Joel stayed around, I made sure a new pint was waiting for him every time he returned from the loo, which made him laugh and admonish me that I could read his mind. Far too much fun.
Eventually, after numerous delays, Tristan joined us for a drink, seeming a bit frustrated by his work, but also glad for the opportunity to take a break and have a drink. So we enjoyed spending some time talking with him, and catching up there as well.
Finally Tristan decided to call it a night, but Joel and I were having so much fun, that we decided to settle in with two more drinks by the fire. We weren't there long however, when Joel spotted a familiar face by the bar. "Is that the Master of Magdalene College? Duncan Robinson, is that you?"
Indeed it was the Master, there with his wife! I'm not sure if they had any clue as to who we were, but given that we so obviously knew them, I'm sure they pretty quickly figured out that we were Magdalene alumns. The Master even mentioned how he'd been sorry to miss the recent Magdalene dinner, and hoped that we would schedule another one where he could attend!
I was then surprised when one of the bartenders came out and spoke to the Master (who had taken off his tie at this late point in the evening), and informed him that if he was going to be in the bar, he would need to put his tie on. I almost wanted to ask the bartender, "Don't you know who this IS??" But I guess the strict rules about jackets and ties apply to everyone, even the Master!
So we enjoyed the company and conversation of the Master a bit more, finished up our own drinks (I was really quite tipsy by this point, I'd definitely had one too many), and finally made our ways home. What a lovely evening though, with great company and the delightful bonus of getting to see the Master!
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Last Flatmate Dinner
I spent some more time packing and moving today, and got to talk to our cleaning lady when she arrived to say good-bye one last time. We actually had an interesting and random conversation when the cleaning lady all of a sudden asked me if I was married. When I told her no, that I didn't even have a boyfriend, she exclaimed with shock, "But with your face?" Kind of sweet, although I wonder if people who express astonishment at the fact that I'm single realise how it comes out. It's almost like, "You're so pretty, you must have a MAJOR personality defect to be single!"
We somehow got onto the topic of how she had an arranged marriage when she was 38, and although she didn't love him at the time, she "grew to love him", in some sort of platonic affection, from what I can gather. She got a daughter out of the marriage at least, so perhaps it wasn't a total loss.
Emily and I had agreed that I would skip the hash this evening (since it was cold and raining, not a hard prospect), and we'd have a last flatmate dinner together. I bought some vegetables and wine, while she was in charge of getting the chicken. I was kind of surprised when she didn't even arrive home until 8 PM, with a rather small and measly looking chicken. Obviously, I'd put way more effort into the wine selection...
But we did have a nice dinner together, just chatting about nothing in particular, the kind of idle random conversations we've always had. It's kind of weird, as I'd always seen them as being so friendly, but it was weird in that now there's always this undercurrent that I'm leaving.
In the end, good dinner, and a good night to stay in from the rain!
We somehow got onto the topic of how she had an arranged marriage when she was 38, and although she didn't love him at the time, she "grew to love him", in some sort of platonic affection, from what I can gather. She got a daughter out of the marriage at least, so perhaps it wasn't a total loss.
Emily and I had agreed that I would skip the hash this evening (since it was cold and raining, not a hard prospect), and we'd have a last flatmate dinner together. I bought some vegetables and wine, while she was in charge of getting the chicken. I was kind of surprised when she didn't even arrive home until 8 PM, with a rather small and measly looking chicken. Obviously, I'd put way more effort into the wine selection...
But we did have a nice dinner together, just chatting about nothing in particular, the kind of idle random conversations we've always had. It's kind of weird, as I'd always seen them as being so friendly, but it was weird in that now there's always this undercurrent that I'm leaving.
In the end, good dinner, and a good night to stay in from the rain!
Monday, 25 October 2010
A Good Day for Moving
I finally got some moving done today!
Emily had the day off, which in the past would normally have meant I would go into the office to stay out of her way, but that was in the old days when I was feeling considerate. Now that I'm being kicked out, I'm a much less considerate flatmate. (We had a stand-off for quite a few days there where I didn't buy any toilet paper, and we were seriously using paper towels. I suppose she won the standoff in the end however, as I finally caved and bought some super cheap-o toilet paper before she bought anything. Although to be fair, why should I buy house supplies when I won't be living there in a few days?)
In the morning I did go to Body Pump however, and found I was quite tired afterwards. Yet, it wasn't quite enough, as I had to get some boxes moved!
I'd promised myself that I would make at least five trips across the street today, getting stuff moved. I actually ended up making six trips when after the fifth trip I was ready to take a shower, and I realised I'd left my hairbrush over at the new place (and hence couldn't brush out my wet hair). So an extra bonus for the day!
On one of my trips, I brought over a box of stuff for the kitchen, but as I tried to find places to put it all away, I could barely find any space! There was almost no food in the entire kitchen (I counted a half-package of pasta on one shelf, and some yogurts and Diet Coke in the fridge), yet five out of six shelves were taken up by glassware. I've heard of people who don't cook much, but this was utterly bizarre!!
Spent the rest of the afternoon working at home, and even saw a steam engine go by my window at one point, making the familiar "chug-chug-chug" that you hear in old movies. It was so random, and I wonder what on earth an old-fashioned steam engine was doing on the modern rails in London? No idea, but hopefully at some point Google will answer that question for me...
Spent most of my evening packing up and sorting things out, even though Emily was home and I could have been hanging out with her. Still, with less than a week left, there's still quite a bit to go!
Emily had the day off, which in the past would normally have meant I would go into the office to stay out of her way, but that was in the old days when I was feeling considerate. Now that I'm being kicked out, I'm a much less considerate flatmate. (We had a stand-off for quite a few days there where I didn't buy any toilet paper, and we were seriously using paper towels. I suppose she won the standoff in the end however, as I finally caved and bought some super cheap-o toilet paper before she bought anything. Although to be fair, why should I buy house supplies when I won't be living there in a few days?)
In the morning I did go to Body Pump however, and found I was quite tired afterwards. Yet, it wasn't quite enough, as I had to get some boxes moved!
I'd promised myself that I would make at least five trips across the street today, getting stuff moved. I actually ended up making six trips when after the fifth trip I was ready to take a shower, and I realised I'd left my hairbrush over at the new place (and hence couldn't brush out my wet hair). So an extra bonus for the day!
On one of my trips, I brought over a box of stuff for the kitchen, but as I tried to find places to put it all away, I could barely find any space! There was almost no food in the entire kitchen (I counted a half-package of pasta on one shelf, and some yogurts and Diet Coke in the fridge), yet five out of six shelves were taken up by glassware. I've heard of people who don't cook much, but this was utterly bizarre!!
Spent the rest of the afternoon working at home, and even saw a steam engine go by my window at one point, making the familiar "chug-chug-chug" that you hear in old movies. It was so random, and I wonder what on earth an old-fashioned steam engine was doing on the modern rails in London? No idea, but hopefully at some point Google will answer that question for me...
Spent most of my evening packing up and sorting things out, even though Emily was home and I could have been hanging out with her. Still, with less than a week left, there's still quite a bit to go!
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Still Not Moving
I pretty much got the bulk of my room packed up today, and really could have made major strides in moving boxes across the street. But for some reason, I just couldn't quite bring myself to do it. I made two trips (Tessa was home for one trip), but after Emily went out for the afternoon, and Doro texted to say she couldn't make it, I just suddenly lost all interest in doing the move. Looking at the pile of boxes, I realise that I shall have to try to make at least five trips tomorrow and Tuesday if I'm to have any hope of completing the move by the end of the week. Friday night may end up being a mad panic.
In the end, I read an article about the "Millionaire Matchmaker" in the NYTimes, and became fascinated watching some clips from the show. I have to admit that it was ridiculously fascinating, although it did make you wonder if any of these incredibly wealthy and successful (and hopefully reasonably intelligent?) guys were every truly going to find much in common with the blonde bimbos that this matchmaker set them up with. However, half of the time the girls she set them up with I think were to teach them a lesson, that a blonde bimbo wasn't really what they were looking for... Too bad too many guys don't have a matchmaker to teach them that lesson!
In the end, I read an article about the "Millionaire Matchmaker" in the NYTimes, and became fascinated watching some clips from the show. I have to admit that it was ridiculously fascinating, although it did make you wonder if any of these incredibly wealthy and successful (and hopefully reasonably intelligent?) guys were every truly going to find much in common with the blonde bimbos that this matchmaker set them up with. However, half of the time the girls she set them up with I think were to teach them a lesson, that a blonde bimbo wasn't really what they were looking for... Too bad too many guys don't have a matchmaker to teach them that lesson!
Two Parties and Two Nightbuses
This evening I had two parties to go to, and I couldn't decide which one to attend. So, knowing full well it was a disaster waiting to happen, I decided to try to go to both. {Sigh!} I just never learn...
Since Roofie's party started first, I decided to go to that one first. In retrospect, that was the exact wrong move, as I should have gone to the sophisticated cocktail party first, and then the raging kegger of a Halloween party second. Instead, I did it in reverse, exactly as I shouldn't have. Lesson learned for next time, I guess...
As I exited the tube for the first party, I ran into some fellow hash types, and so waited for them to buy beer at the local off-licence before going in to the party. When we arrived up the elevator, we were surprised by the host jumping out to scare us, and then insisting that we had to play "Twister" before being admitted into the flat. Talk about a bad day to have chosen to wear a skirt...
Luckily we only had to play two spins (although I did end up with another chap lying on top of me), yet with the added requirement that we had to drink inbetween each spin, in our weirdly contorted positions.
Then, after we'd made it through the Twister, we had to be handcuffed to a chair, and had someone pour a shot down our throat. Mindful of the second party I had to go to later, I almost freaked out and told the guy pouring the shot down my throat that I would kill him if he got any on my dress. At least that seemed to put some fear into him, and he didn't spill a single drop.
Finally at this point I was able to enter the party, where I was surprised to see a remarkably clean and spacious living room. Then I learned the boys had only been in residence for two weeks, which perhaps explains why it was still so clean.
I greeted Roofie's brother, who seemed delighted to see me, and then I learned that he'd actually had surgery on his ACL, and this was why I hadn't seen him at the hash lately. Poor guy was limping all over the place and needng to sit down and rest frequently. He seemed so surprised that I hadn't known however, making me feel once more a bit out-of-it that I hadn't kept up.
The two of us played a game of two-cup beer pong (Beruit, really, not the genuine kind played at Dartmouth), because they had a cheesy manufactured pong table set up. Admittedly we were both terrible at it, and eventually had to put in place back-stops with our hands so that we could actually manage to get the ping-pong ball into the cups. Ah, so lame!
As more people arrived, I found myself chatting with Sally E, the wife of one of the more keen hashers. She's a good sport who frequently comes along with him, and I've always found her to be a charming conversational companion, as she's just so sweet and nice. I was surprised to learn that she was a former member of the Lansdowne, and we talked a bit about how much I enjoyed life in Clubland. Really should get her along to something, as she seems like the type who would enjoy it.
I had thought to slip out to attend the second party after an hour and a half, but I hadn't counted on the steady stream of people continuing to arrive, and the insistance of Roofie to continue to make people play twister and do shots whilst handcuffed to a chair. Hence, no real chance to make a quiet exit, as the way out was blocked. I began to despair that I would ever make it to the second party.
Almost giving up, I went out to join the crowds by the Twister game in the hallway, and just spent some time talking to Roofie's brother. Let's face it, he was really the only person I felt like talking to, as he sometimes seems like the only other normal person in an insane asylum.
Yet, just about when I was going to give up on making it to the other party, one other hasher, U-Turn, who is actually Roofie's boss, decided he was heading out. So I decided to sneak out with him, and make a run for the second party (never mind that I wouldn't make it to the second party now until 11:30 PM). Made my escape with U-Turn, and dashed on the Tube to the next party!
When I arrived at 11:30 PM, I began to have my doubts about whether I should even bother arriving so late, but since I was there, I figured I might as well forge on ahead. I actually met another couple just leaving as I arrived, and so was able to ask them if the party was still going. They assured me that there were still about 15 people left, so I rang the buzzer, and immediately started blathering apologies when the hostess came down to let me in.
Upon arrival, I found that my friend Sara had already gone home, and Sibe, this guy I'd known from my Magdalene days (and had a brief, abortive romantic fling with) was just leaving. I was actually rather grateful for that, as every time I see him, I can't help but think, "What on earth was I thinking????" Seriously, mild repulsion. (I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but so awkward and geeky and just....no. Seriously, no idea how I'd ever thought it would be a good idea to kiss him).
So I stayed chatting with random people there, although mostly spending time enjoying the manic company of my friend Helen, who is slightly insane but utterly charming. After getting her PhD in physics she's now a teacher at Westminster School, and can always be counted on at parties to ask ridiculously inappropriate questions.
And as I stood there, I realised my mistake, as this obviously would have been the better party to come to first, where one could make an early departure before the polite conversation petered out. Then I could go to the raging house-party, where people had still been arriving as I left at 11 PM. Ah well, now I know for next time!
After a while, we realised that it was getting late, and so Helen suggested that we take the night bus home. The night bus? Goodness, I hadn't done that in ages! So, excited to have a companion for a late-night trip home, I walked with her to the bus stop.
As made our journey home, Helen revealed that she was "living with someone, but wanting to live with someone else. Someone more intelligent." And this is the frustrating thing I realised about both parties... Although there were plenty of young, single men in attendance at both, few really turned my head. Seriously, I think I would have stayed at Roofie's party and skipped the second if there had been a charming cute boy to talk to, but with none on offer, I went to the second, which was mostly a collection of Russian lab geeks.
Which made me realise that what's truly most frustrating about the silly boy, is that he's the first boy I've been truly interested in for a very long time, so it's that much more dissapointing that it didn't work out. And maybe to those who read my rambling musings, you're thinking, "But you're ALWAYS talking about some boy or other that you have a crush on!" I hope that's true, because sometimes you hit nights like this one, where among all of the options, you didn't see anything to your liking. And where going home alone really seems like the most preferrable option out there. Because really, there's always something wrong with all of them. Even Roofie's brother, delightful as he is, I can't quite imagine taking to the club. Or having an interesting discussion with him about world politics.
After we arrived in Trafalgar Square, Helen and I parted, and I found the N9 coming along straight away, so I decided instead of catching a cab, to ride the night bus all of the way home. (Took me until 3 AM to get home, but it sure was cheap!) And I watched some very cute drunk couples in the front of the bus snuggle up together, shifting slightly until they got comfortable, and just nuzzling with each other all of the way home. Ah, that's what we all really want, now isn't it? Somebody to snuggle with all of the way home...
Friday Popping Around
I wasn't feeling very productive at home, so midway through the day, I decided to go into the office. Except once I got into the office, nobody I knew was there! (It was also ridiculously hard to book a desk, as the touch screen system nearly drove me batty before I got something sorted out).
In the end, I'm not sure how much coming into the office really helped, as I ended up going home early to get some packing done, deciding that my little sojourn out of the flat hadn't really done much good! Oh well, at least I got out of the flat for the day!
In the end, I'm not sure how much coming into the office really helped, as I ended up going home early to get some packing done, deciding that my little sojourn out of the flat hadn't really done much good! Oh well, at least I got out of the flat for the day!
Friday, 22 October 2010
Squash
In a significant move in my moving progress today, I took my bed off of its risers, because I'd finally cleared out all of the boxes from underneath. My room suddenly looked so different, with the bed once again low to the floor and so many of the boxes gone.
Still, there wasn't much time to ponder the new appearance of my room, as I needed to head out to the club to play a game of squash with my friend Doro. I used to be a bit squash player in my Magdalene days, but I haven't played now in years. So I was keen to take the opportunity to get back to doing some playing.
On the street as I was making my way to the club, I spotted my new landlord. I wondered about whether I should say hello or not, but then decided I should, because I'm not a jerk like that. He seemed totally startled to have this stranger saying "hello" to him, but then seemed to at least recognize who I was...
When I arrived at the club, there were lots of non-club people around, obviously lost and trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. I then remembered that there was an Oxford jazz evening that night, which I'd seen advertised in an e-mail I'd received from one of these "young Oxford alumni" e-mail lists that I'm on. Doro and I even saw a chap at one point without a tie on, which we commented would make it impossible for him to be served at the bar!
I got changed into my whites (playing squash at the club requires that one wear whites, or clothing that is at least 80% white, giving the whole exercise a very 1920's feel), and met up with Doro at the squash bar, where I found her chatting familiarly with the bartender down there. We chatted with the bartender for quite a bit (I had never actually even seen the bartender at the squash bar before), until it was our court time, and we went down to our squash court.
There are two squash courts at the club, one named "Oxford" and one called "Cambridge." We were playing in "Oxford", which didn't bother me, although Doro (who has only been to Cambridge) seemed a bit miffed!
We mostly volleyed, although played properly for a bit, yet regardless of how we were playing, I suddenly realised I'd forgotten about how much fun squash is. We were panting and heaving in no time flat, but I was having a total blast slamming the heck out of the ball.
Our 30 minute session seemed to end far too quickly, I was definitely keen to keep playing for quite a while yet!
Since we were both absolutely soaked with sweat, we went back to the ladies powder room to change, but once there I realised I'd forgotten to bring anything for a shower. So I just towelled off with a damp towel until I was in somewhat decent shape, and then used a hairdryer on my sweaty hair to make it look a bit more respectable. Lesson learned for next time!
I then joined Doro up in the bar where she was having drinks with Paul, another guy we know from the club, and wondered if we might see anyone from the jazz evening come join us. Alas, nobody from the jazz evening ever came upstairs (although I did see the bartender lecture one chap about his lack of a tie).
We had two bottles of white wine (Paul bought one and Doro bought one), and although I felt a bit badly about not taking my turn in buying a bottle, another bottle of wine was really the last thing we needed at that point! So, after having a dinner that was almost entirely wine and bar snacks, we headed home... Must play more squash again soon, it was so much fun!
Still, there wasn't much time to ponder the new appearance of my room, as I needed to head out to the club to play a game of squash with my friend Doro. I used to be a bit squash player in my Magdalene days, but I haven't played now in years. So I was keen to take the opportunity to get back to doing some playing.
On the street as I was making my way to the club, I spotted my new landlord. I wondered about whether I should say hello or not, but then decided I should, because I'm not a jerk like that. He seemed totally startled to have this stranger saying "hello" to him, but then seemed to at least recognize who I was...
When I arrived at the club, there were lots of non-club people around, obviously lost and trying to figure out where they were supposed to go. I then remembered that there was an Oxford jazz evening that night, which I'd seen advertised in an e-mail I'd received from one of these "young Oxford alumni" e-mail lists that I'm on. Doro and I even saw a chap at one point without a tie on, which we commented would make it impossible for him to be served at the bar!
I got changed into my whites (playing squash at the club requires that one wear whites, or clothing that is at least 80% white, giving the whole exercise a very 1920's feel), and met up with Doro at the squash bar, where I found her chatting familiarly with the bartender down there. We chatted with the bartender for quite a bit (I had never actually even seen the bartender at the squash bar before), until it was our court time, and we went down to our squash court.
There are two squash courts at the club, one named "Oxford" and one called "Cambridge." We were playing in "Oxford", which didn't bother me, although Doro (who has only been to Cambridge) seemed a bit miffed!
We mostly volleyed, although played properly for a bit, yet regardless of how we were playing, I suddenly realised I'd forgotten about how much fun squash is. We were panting and heaving in no time flat, but I was having a total blast slamming the heck out of the ball.
Our 30 minute session seemed to end far too quickly, I was definitely keen to keep playing for quite a while yet!
Since we were both absolutely soaked with sweat, we went back to the ladies powder room to change, but once there I realised I'd forgotten to bring anything for a shower. So I just towelled off with a damp towel until I was in somewhat decent shape, and then used a hairdryer on my sweaty hair to make it look a bit more respectable. Lesson learned for next time!
I then joined Doro up in the bar where she was having drinks with Paul, another guy we know from the club, and wondered if we might see anyone from the jazz evening come join us. Alas, nobody from the jazz evening ever came upstairs (although I did see the bartender lecture one chap about his lack of a tie).
We had two bottles of white wine (Paul bought one and Doro bought one), and although I felt a bit badly about not taking my turn in buying a bottle, another bottle of wine was really the last thing we needed at that point! So, after having a dinner that was almost entirely wine and bar snacks, we headed home... Must play more squash again soon, it was so much fun!
More Moving and Body Pump
As you might guess, a frequent theme of my days is becoming "how many boxes did you manage to move today?" Made two more trips over today, so slowly it's getting there, although I think I'm also realising quite how much there is still left to do.
Although it might seem silly to buy more things to move right before moving, I had promised a friend I would play squash with her on Wednesday, but my squash racquet is actually back in New York. I'd thought about bringing it with me on my most recent trip back, but as the racquet only cost £10 in the first place, it really seemed easier just to buy a new one.
Unfortunately, the price of squash racquets seems to have gone up a bit since 2003, and I'd also delayed a bit on the local sporting goods store's 20%-off sale, so now the sale was over and the £15 racquets really seemed to be too cheap to bother with. Hence, a £20 racquet it was!
I managed to get through my shopping task quickly enough to make it to the "Core" class at the gym, which was basically 20 minutes of non-stop situps.
Then after that, it was time for Body Pump, although I was quite curious as to what was going on with the instructor, for she had all of these weird red-and-purple splotches all over her legs and arms, almost making it look like she'd been in a fight. (She's so incredibly muscular, I've often wondered if perhaps she does boxing or something like that, so perhaps it was the marks of a fight, who knows?)
Still, she used her agression to motivate us through the class, and eventually we all got ourselves through a good workout. Then home for a relatively relaxed evening at home continuing to read Ken Follet's "World Without End." That book is definitely getting in the way of me making much progress with packing!
Although it might seem silly to buy more things to move right before moving, I had promised a friend I would play squash with her on Wednesday, but my squash racquet is actually back in New York. I'd thought about bringing it with me on my most recent trip back, but as the racquet only cost £10 in the first place, it really seemed easier just to buy a new one.
Unfortunately, the price of squash racquets seems to have gone up a bit since 2003, and I'd also delayed a bit on the local sporting goods store's 20%-off sale, so now the sale was over and the £15 racquets really seemed to be too cheap to bother with. Hence, a £20 racquet it was!
I managed to get through my shopping task quickly enough to make it to the "Core" class at the gym, which was basically 20 minutes of non-stop situps.
Then after that, it was time for Body Pump, although I was quite curious as to what was going on with the instructor, for she had all of these weird red-and-purple splotches all over her legs and arms, almost making it look like she'd been in a fight. (She's so incredibly muscular, I've often wondered if perhaps she does boxing or something like that, so perhaps it was the marks of a fight, who knows?)
Still, she used her agression to motivate us through the class, and eventually we all got ourselves through a good workout. Then home for a relatively relaxed evening at home continuing to read Ken Follet's "World Without End." That book is definitely getting in the way of me making much progress with packing!
Missed the Run
I carried over a few more boxes during the day, but I'm beginning to realise that my pace of packing and moving will probably need to pick up in short order if I'm to have any hope of actually making this move progress along. I did get some laundry done however, if that counts at all...
Perhaps I can also blame the weather for my lack of progress, as it rained intermittently throughout the day, and by the time I should have been getting ready to go running, it was coming down pretty heavily. Add to that the cold snap that had come in over the past few days, and perhaps you can understand why I wasn't exactly jumping over myself to make sure I got out and to the run on time. Hence when a last-minute work call with Argentina came up, I was only too happy to take the call, and make myself thoroughly late for the run.
In the end, I was changed and had nothing else to do, so I headed on over to where everyone would be coming to after the run. Once there however, I sort of had to wonder why I'd bothered, as there were few people of interest to talk to. I made idle conversation with a few, bought Lex a drink for the one I owed him from last Friday, and listened to the stories from the circle, but was generally just not feeling it. Perhaps I needed to have run to appreciated it.
So, when it was only just 10 PM, I decided to head on home. Some nights it's just not the night for socializing, I guess!
Perhaps I can also blame the weather for my lack of progress, as it rained intermittently throughout the day, and by the time I should have been getting ready to go running, it was coming down pretty heavily. Add to that the cold snap that had come in over the past few days, and perhaps you can understand why I wasn't exactly jumping over myself to make sure I got out and to the run on time. Hence when a last-minute work call with Argentina came up, I was only too happy to take the call, and make myself thoroughly late for the run.
In the end, I was changed and had nothing else to do, so I headed on over to where everyone would be coming to after the run. Once there however, I sort of had to wonder why I'd bothered, as there were few people of interest to talk to. I made idle conversation with a few, bought Lex a drink for the one I owed him from last Friday, and listened to the stories from the circle, but was generally just not feeling it. Perhaps I needed to have run to appreciated it.
So, when it was only just 10 PM, I decided to head on home. Some nights it's just not the night for socializing, I guess!
Moving
There's not really much to be said about the two next days, except that after having had the keys to my old place and my new place for an entire week without moving a single box, it seemed like it was time to get some moving done.
Yet on Sunday, my flatmate had gone down to Somerset for the weekend, and while I did do some minor packing (got all of my books down off of the shelves), I just couldn't seem to motivate to do anything whilst I had the run of the flat to myself. Spent a large portion of time surfing Facebook, and realising that whilst I had been watching Priscilla the day before, many hash people (including the Giant Australian) had been engaging in some football-related drinking game. I remember they'd tried to talk me into participating, but I think I'm just at a point in my life where drinking games seem excessively juvenile. And I have to admit, I wasn't very impressed to see that the Giant Australian had been participating, making me think it was probably for the best that he hadn't shown up on Friday.
On Monday, I couldn't even motivate myself to go to either the morning or the evening Body Pump class, but at least I did move a few boxes over to my new flat. It's a start, at least!!
Yet on Sunday, my flatmate had gone down to Somerset for the weekend, and while I did do some minor packing (got all of my books down off of the shelves), I just couldn't seem to motivate to do anything whilst I had the run of the flat to myself. Spent a large portion of time surfing Facebook, and realising that whilst I had been watching Priscilla the day before, many hash people (including the Giant Australian) had been engaging in some football-related drinking game. I remember they'd tried to talk me into participating, but I think I'm just at a point in my life where drinking games seem excessively juvenile. And I have to admit, I wasn't very impressed to see that the Giant Australian had been participating, making me think it was probably for the best that he hadn't shown up on Friday.
On Monday, I couldn't even motivate myself to go to either the morning or the evening Body Pump class, but at least I did move a few boxes over to my new flat. It's a start, at least!!
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Priscilla Queen of the Desert
My friend Marjanne will be leaving this time next week to go to Melbourne, Australia for 8 months on a secondment as a doctor, so today we were having her leaving party.
Five of us met at the Palace Theatre at 2 PM to watch a matinee performance of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert", a stage production of a movie of the same name. I was surprised that the theatre was totally packed, although mostly with hen nights, as there was an entire group near us wearing pink feather boas, and I saw at least two girls wearing veils and sashes saying "Bride to Be." If I ever get married and any of my friends do that to me, I think I will disown them.
The show was actually pretty good, even if it took me a little while to figure out what was going on (as I had never seen the movie). Although the costumes were truly spectacular, and I could understand what one of the drag queens meant when s/he said, "Sometimes, don't you want to just get really all dressed up in sparkles and glitter?" After the show, I found myself rather wondering if I could wear body glitter and sequins, as I could really understand how much fun it would be to just go over-the-top all-out, with no limits on the glamour. Which I think is in essence, exactly what drag queens do!
After the show, we went back to Marjanne's flat, where she wanted to feed her cat. (Given that the cat is quite overweight and she barely gave her anything, I have to wonder a bit why we bothered). The others changed into more "evening appropriate" outfits, making me regret my choice of clothing, a slightly frumpy blue sweater and a pleated skirt. Very high-school prep, but perhaps not the best for dinner out in Notting Hill. Oh well, nothing to be done about it, although perhaps will plan a better outfit for next time.
We then drove to the restaurant in The Argentinean's car. The Argentinean is a friend of Marjanne's who she met through a meditation class, an Argentinean guy, born in New York, who has lived in the UK for the past 9 years. In his early 40's, and separated from his wife (but not divorced). A nice guy, looks much younger, and would probably be quite a great catch for many women if it weren't for the "separated but not divorced" thing. Still, I find him to be charming and lovely company.
At the restaurant, we had a table set for 12, and I found myself across from The Argentinean and next to Marjanne. People kept arriving late, and on my other side we were joined by Marjanne's Belgian cousin and his American girlfriend, although they both currently live in Basel, Switzerland, while working for the same architecture firm. The evening ended up with it basically being a conversation of the four of us, myself, The Argentinean, the cousin and the girlfriend.
I have to admit, this is about as well as it could have turned out, as The Argentinean was probably the most interesting person there the entire evening to talk to. I like him, as he's such an old-school gentleman (always instinctively knows that I'm supposed to have the seat by the wall, helps me with my coat, and of course I didn't have to touch the wine bottle once all evening). Also, he's well-travelled and interesting, and also has that easy charm and confidence of being willing to take charge. As we all filed into the restaurant, the obvious person to take charge and order wine and some starters was Marjanne. Yet, for some reason she kept trying to push the responsibility off to her ex-boyfriend (ah, how humorous is it when people pretend to be friends with their exes, although you could tell there was still some tension there), who also couldn't find it in him to take charge. Finally, I just called the waiter over and ordered the wine, and then The Argentinean seemed to build on my taking charge, and arranged for some platters of antipasto for the table. I had to smile at that, someone else who knows how to take charge and make things happen!
The dinner was actually really lovely, some really good Italian food. I've gotten so used to Italian food in London being such a disappointment, that it was a welcome surprise to eat at a place that, while not mind-blowingly good, was actually fairly nice. The parma ham and brochetti antipasti was lovely, and my fettuchini and meatball main actually reminded me a lot of the cooking of my nanny growing up, which is high praise indeed. Despite that we were running late for the bar where we were supposed to have drinks next, we stayed for dessert, as the food at this place was so good. I ordered this ball of ice cream rolled in chocolate powder, although I have to admit I inhaled some of the cocoa powder and was coughing quite a bit on it. Note for next time, get the tiramisu instead!
When we left the restaurant, I begged off and said good-bye to Marjanne, because I just couldn't imagine hanging around at some bar and drinking more would really be much fun. Let's face it, I think I'm hitting the time of year where I just become tired of alcohol.
So I started walking home, and then I figured that since I had a while to entertain myself on the walk, I would call my parents. They seemed delighted to hear from me, and provided good company for the journey home. Got back to my flat, switched over to calling them on Google, and we chatted for over an hour. Then, upon realising that it was still relatively early, I called my friend Shelley, hoping that I might somehow magically hit a good time for her and her toddler. I always feel badly that I don't call my friends with kids more, although you honestly never know when you're going to call at a good time. Indeed, when I rang, she was unloading groceries from the car, but begged me to call back in 10 minutes. It was 20 minutes later by the time we managed to reconnect, but she just seemed so delighted that I'd called, continuing to talk to me with her Bluetooth headset on even whilst continuing to cook dinner and deal with the toddler. Of course, even the constant interruptions to deal with the toddler amused me, because when I'd last seen this kid she wasn't speaking a word, but suddenly there was this constant babble of speech coming from her. How amazing!
We talked for well over an hour, until my friend had to admit it was time for bathtime and bed. Yet, she's so lonely at the moment, with her husband off in Japan and only her toddler to talk to, that I was glad I called and gave her some "adult" conversation for a bit. She told me with a wry tone, "Enjoy your freedom!" Indeed, as much as I hope for a husband and children to come along soon, I have to admit that my life at the moment has its advantages. Like the fact that I was able to stay up well past midnight, and just sleep in the next morning. I'm very lucky that way!
Five of us met at the Palace Theatre at 2 PM to watch a matinee performance of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert", a stage production of a movie of the same name. I was surprised that the theatre was totally packed, although mostly with hen nights, as there was an entire group near us wearing pink feather boas, and I saw at least two girls wearing veils and sashes saying "Bride to Be." If I ever get married and any of my friends do that to me, I think I will disown them.
The show was actually pretty good, even if it took me a little while to figure out what was going on (as I had never seen the movie). Although the costumes were truly spectacular, and I could understand what one of the drag queens meant when s/he said, "Sometimes, don't you want to just get really all dressed up in sparkles and glitter?" After the show, I found myself rather wondering if I could wear body glitter and sequins, as I could really understand how much fun it would be to just go over-the-top all-out, with no limits on the glamour. Which I think is in essence, exactly what drag queens do!
After the show, we went back to Marjanne's flat, where she wanted to feed her cat. (Given that the cat is quite overweight and she barely gave her anything, I have to wonder a bit why we bothered). The others changed into more "evening appropriate" outfits, making me regret my choice of clothing, a slightly frumpy blue sweater and a pleated skirt. Very high-school prep, but perhaps not the best for dinner out in Notting Hill. Oh well, nothing to be done about it, although perhaps will plan a better outfit for next time.
We then drove to the restaurant in The Argentinean's car. The Argentinean is a friend of Marjanne's who she met through a meditation class, an Argentinean guy, born in New York, who has lived in the UK for the past 9 years. In his early 40's, and separated from his wife (but not divorced). A nice guy, looks much younger, and would probably be quite a great catch for many women if it weren't for the "separated but not divorced" thing. Still, I find him to be charming and lovely company.
At the restaurant, we had a table set for 12, and I found myself across from The Argentinean and next to Marjanne. People kept arriving late, and on my other side we were joined by Marjanne's Belgian cousin and his American girlfriend, although they both currently live in Basel, Switzerland, while working for the same architecture firm. The evening ended up with it basically being a conversation of the four of us, myself, The Argentinean, the cousin and the girlfriend.
I have to admit, this is about as well as it could have turned out, as The Argentinean was probably the most interesting person there the entire evening to talk to. I like him, as he's such an old-school gentleman (always instinctively knows that I'm supposed to have the seat by the wall, helps me with my coat, and of course I didn't have to touch the wine bottle once all evening). Also, he's well-travelled and interesting, and also has that easy charm and confidence of being willing to take charge. As we all filed into the restaurant, the obvious person to take charge and order wine and some starters was Marjanne. Yet, for some reason she kept trying to push the responsibility off to her ex-boyfriend (ah, how humorous is it when people pretend to be friends with their exes, although you could tell there was still some tension there), who also couldn't find it in him to take charge. Finally, I just called the waiter over and ordered the wine, and then The Argentinean seemed to build on my taking charge, and arranged for some platters of antipasto for the table. I had to smile at that, someone else who knows how to take charge and make things happen!
The dinner was actually really lovely, some really good Italian food. I've gotten so used to Italian food in London being such a disappointment, that it was a welcome surprise to eat at a place that, while not mind-blowingly good, was actually fairly nice. The parma ham and brochetti antipasti was lovely, and my fettuchini and meatball main actually reminded me a lot of the cooking of my nanny growing up, which is high praise indeed. Despite that we were running late for the bar where we were supposed to have drinks next, we stayed for dessert, as the food at this place was so good. I ordered this ball of ice cream rolled in chocolate powder, although I have to admit I inhaled some of the cocoa powder and was coughing quite a bit on it. Note for next time, get the tiramisu instead!
When we left the restaurant, I begged off and said good-bye to Marjanne, because I just couldn't imagine hanging around at some bar and drinking more would really be much fun. Let's face it, I think I'm hitting the time of year where I just become tired of alcohol.
So I started walking home, and then I figured that since I had a while to entertain myself on the walk, I would call my parents. They seemed delighted to hear from me, and provided good company for the journey home. Got back to my flat, switched over to calling them on Google, and we chatted for over an hour. Then, upon realising that it was still relatively early, I called my friend Shelley, hoping that I might somehow magically hit a good time for her and her toddler. I always feel badly that I don't call my friends with kids more, although you honestly never know when you're going to call at a good time. Indeed, when I rang, she was unloading groceries from the car, but begged me to call back in 10 minutes. It was 20 minutes later by the time we managed to reconnect, but she just seemed so delighted that I'd called, continuing to talk to me with her Bluetooth headset on even whilst continuing to cook dinner and deal with the toddler. Of course, even the constant interruptions to deal with the toddler amused me, because when I'd last seen this kid she wasn't speaking a word, but suddenly there was this constant babble of speech coming from her. How amazing!
We talked for well over an hour, until my friend had to admit it was time for bathtime and bed. Yet, she's so lonely at the moment, with her husband off in Japan and only her toddler to talk to, that I was glad I called and gave her some "adult" conversation for a bit. She told me with a wry tone, "Enjoy your freedom!" Indeed, as much as I hope for a husband and children to come along soon, I have to admit that my life at the moment has its advantages. Like the fact that I was able to stay up well past midnight, and just sleep in the next morning. I'm very lucky that way!
Friday, 15 October 2010
Doctors and Nurses
It was a hash party this evening, as one guy was having a "flat-warming" (but as with all hash flat-warmings, they just take place at a local pub, rather than the flat itself), as well as another girl was having her birthday party, so to avoid having people choose between the parties, they just combined them both into one. (Such is the problem with hash parties. Although we're all a great group that loves to show up everywhere, we don't like having to choose between parties, hence we force people to combine them!)
They decided to make it a theme party (on a Friday after work?), and the theme was "Doctors and Nurses", so I decided to go with a 40's-inspired nurse's outfit. I looked up "How to Make a Nurse's Cap Out of Paper" on ehow.com, and I have to say I was actually quite pleased with the results, as it was quite convincing. Paired with a white skirt, white t-shirt, and white cardigan, it was a perfect home-made costume. When I arrived and saw all of the folks who had just bought a children's "doctor" play kit, everyone was really impressed with my costume, saying I'd made quite the effort (even though the only effort was really the nurse's cap!)
When I arrived at the pub at around 8 PM, I instantly realised I'd mis-judged the situation, as with it being a Friday after work, obviously relatively few people were in costume. Even worse, rather than picking a pub where we could take over a large area and really bring the party, in this case it was a loud, crowded, central-London place that was really more of a nightclub, and we had a tiny booth right next to the DJ booth, which was playing far too loudly. Classic case of "must shout directly into the ear of the person next to you in order to be heard." I hate those kinds of places.
As soon as I arrived, Blunder bought me a drink, and when I realised some of the others were keen to participate in drinking contests, I manoeuvred around and tried to talk to others. However, the friends-of-friends really didn't have much interesting to talk about, and it was hard to really strike up a conversation with the noise in the place being so loud. Many folks were talking about this football drinking game they were all getting together to play tomorrow, and everyone was asking me why I wasn't coming. Getting together in the middle of the afternoon to watch football and play drinking games? Not for me, thanks...
I saw Roofie a bit later, and he had the funniest reaction when he saw me, it was like he'd never seen me before, he was so impressed by the outfit. Or just seeing what I looked like with make-up on and not all hot and sweaty from running. Or he might have just had quite a few shots already. It's hard to know, but it amused me.
Lex bought me a second drink that really tasted "off", although I couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. Needless to say however, I drank it very slowly, as I wasn't liking it much, and I was also just struggling to figure out what to do with myself as I stood around with my ears hurting from the DJ bombarding everyone's ears. I took a break to head to the bathroom, where a girl there asked if I were part of a hen party. Which I suppose makes sense, as why else would a normal person be dressed in a ridiculous costume in the midst of a crowded bar?
Yet even when I came back out, I couldn't deny how bored I was. There was nobody there interesting to talk to, the music was too loud, and my beer tasted off. It was basically everything that is not my scene, as I imagined how much nicer it would have been to have spent the evening drinking champagne at the Lansdowne. I'd kind of thought that I might see the Giant Australian, but I'd reached the point where I just couldn't be bothered waiting around anymore to find out.
So in the end, I couldn't even be bothered to say good-bye to anyone. I fetched my coat, slipped past anyone who might recognize me, and just made my way to the exit and went home. The place was packed and there were people paying money to get in, but this was not the place for me. Maybe a bit lame to go home so early on a Friday night, but I was so much happier once I did!
Thursday, 14 October 2010
Tea at the Wolseley
When I'd been running out to the Kit-Kat Club on Monday, I was stopped by a message on Facebook chat, from Q, saying that we needed to catch up. A bit of a surprise, for as much as I adore Q, we've never really done the one-on-one thing, but I hadn't seen him in a while and was keeen to do so. So he told me to pick a day, I suggested Thursday, and he suggested we do tea at 3 PM at the Wolseley. Not what I had expected (tea, instead of after-work drinks?) but thought it sounded lovely. I did have a conference call at that time, but I was sure I could skip it, so agreed to see him at the appointed time at the Wolseley for tea.
On Thursday morning however, I realised that we hadn't spoken since Monday, and so of course I was keen to confirm if we were still on. Yet I didn't see him online on Facebook, how to get ahold of him?
I guess it shows you how much I am attached to my laptop, for it was distressingly much later before it occurred to me to check my phone. Indeed, there was a message from him, saying that he'd just gotten a project that needed to be finished by 5 PM, so perhaps we could meet earlier? (In a really puzzling twist, the text was from a number not in my phone. So how on earth did he get my number when I didn't have his? Interesting...)
I also discovered I had problems on my own end. Although I'd originally assumed that the conference call at 3 PM would be something I could skip without notice, a closer look at my calendar revealled that everyone on my larger team in London was all supposed to meet up in the office to attend the call. So definitely noticeable if I skipped out.
Hence, I texted him back, and got ready to go to the office or for tea, unsure of which one would be which. Finally, having not heard from him at the time I would need to go to the office, I decided to set out for the office as the default option. And good boy that he is, he called me as I was out on the street heading for the office, and we agreed to meet for tea at 5. Perfect! So I would get to go to my conference call AND tea, and everything would work out beautifully.
I arrived at the office a few minutes after I was supposed to arrive, to discover a crisis unfolding. They'd instituted a new online office-booking tool a few weeks back, and were claiming it was having "a few teething probelms". Which could also be translated as: "It's a total disaster."
Despite having clearly stated repeatedly that we needed a room with Roundtable videoconferencing capabilities, as people from all over the world were going to be dialling in to see us, we'd been put in a room with no Roundtable, and none were available. Of course, all those of us present, assuming that there would be video provided of much higher quality than our web cams, had failed to bring our personal ones along. We then had to simply sit and watch the meeting on a large screen overhead, but also they couldn't make the sound work, so we just had to turn up the volume on one laptop. With not enough plugs for everyone at the table, we ended up swapping power cords around. And then, just when we thought the room disaster couldn't get any worse, another group showed up claiming to have booked the room. Apparently even though we got an official fascilities support person to book us into the office (so we knew it was done right), the system had failed to register it and released it for booking by others. In the end, we were able to stay in the room, but the whole experience made us all swear that the new system was a disaster from end-to-end. Not worth it!
At last, the call was over and I was able to escape. It did occur to me as I was leaving that perhaps it was a bit poor form to dash off at 4:30 when the work day officially does not end until 5:30, and some people had travelled great distances to come into the London office. Yet, I had someone to meet.
Holborn station was closed due to a fire alert, so I arrived 15 minutes late, but the genius boy walked down from the Lansdowne at 5 PM, meeting me perfectly at the Wolseley at 5:15. He's smart, that boy is...
We asked for a table and joked around whist they prepared it for us, and then sat down to decide on our tea options. There were quite a few! We could have cream tea, high tea, champagne tea, and then there were the dessert and tea options... For just a tea menu it was quite impressive!
I was going to go for the apple-blackberry crumble, but as soon as I mentioned it Q decided he wanted that (power of suggestion, as my father says), so I went for the lemon merenguie that Q had recently thrown over.
When they brought out the tea, we each had these massive silver teapots filled with loose tea, and had to pour it into our cups through these genius tea filters with a swinging "catch" under them to automatically catch the drops. Took a bit of skill to do it right, but it was definitely a nifty little bit of 18th century design.
Since we had so much tea, we talked for ages, mostly about Q's quarter-life crisis, as he's realising that although he gets to do amazing things for his age by working for himself, it's a lot of hard work and perhaps it's time to do something else for a while. He's apparently been offered a spot on the MBA programme at Johns Hopkins if he does well enough on the GMAT, yet he fears he might not do well enough for a full scholarship, as he's never considered himself an academic. To me, this was puzzling, because he's always struck me as being so bright and clever, yet I realise that doesn't always translate into an ability to do well in an academic setting, like I have. I realised that perhaps this was not the time to reveal that I "studied" for the GRE by reading a test prep book on the train from Cambridge to London (no seriously, that was it), and yet I did well enough to be awarded a full scholarship at Oxford. I think I scored in the 99th percentile on every section, but it's not like I expected anything otherwise, as standardized testing has always been ridiculously easy for me. But as I talked to him about what he wanted to do and where he could get in, I have to remember that it is not thus for everyone, not even for my very bright and clever friends.
I enjoyed the conversation, as someone who went through their quarter-life crisis and found it to be an immensely valuable experience, I strongly encourage those who are experiencing these feelings of crisis to fully delve in and embrace the choices and options that are open to them, and see what they might like to do differently. And I realise that's why he enjoys my friendship so much, as I'm a wise older woman he can talk to (the way boys only can with girls), but without the silliness of younger girls. And I like him because he's clever, witty, and oh-so-charming. If only he were 10 years younger...
At one point, he excused himself to go use the loo, while nearly at the same point one of the two men at the table next to us excused himself to take a phone call outside. (I'd thought he was being rather rude to his companion, by speaking for so long at the table, before finally realising that this was not going to be a quick call and taking it outside.) So, as I naturally do, I just struck up a conversation with this total stranger at the next table over.
I have to admit, part of me was curious about whether the two men were in a gay relationship or whether it was a business meeting, but I never quite figured that out from our chat. We did talk about live in London, how long we'd lived here, and whether wearing glasses made us look smarter. It was so funny, as when Q returned to the table, after having left me for quite an extended period of time, he just took in the situation of me talking to a total stranger, and just nodded as though to say, "Well, of course you would."
Q is the type who probably would have done the same (he's so wonderfully friendly), and it's part of what he likes about me, is that he knows I'm the same. Not a girl he needs to worry about leaving on her own for a while!
Finally, we grabbed the bill, and I had to praise him again for suggesting tea. It's always the naturally done thing to constantly go for drinks, but after the previous night at the RAC I was a bit unenthusiastic about more alcohol (even if the cold was doing much better). And the Wolseley was such a lovely place, I can't believe I'd never been in for tea before. Definitely will need to add it to my repertoire of places to go!
We parted with a kiss, having had a marathon 2-hour tea drinking session, so it was time to head home. I had originally been planning on going reeling later that evening, as the night before at the RAC, I'd found myself chatting to quite a few people about going to reeling classes. It's rather funny, as you always hear in Jane Austen novels about everyone taking dancing lessons, and showing up to dances where everyone knew all of the steps and filled out a dance card in advance. And you think those days are over, but actually they're quite alive and well, and hence the need for dance lessons remains! Most surprising, it was all of the boys who were talking about going to dance classes to learn all of the steps to these reels, not the girls. Having been to quite a few reels where I had no idea what was going on, I figure it's about time I start going to classes and learning the steps. But that will have to wait for another time, as it was far too late tonight!
On Thursday morning however, I realised that we hadn't spoken since Monday, and so of course I was keen to confirm if we were still on. Yet I didn't see him online on Facebook, how to get ahold of him?
I guess it shows you how much I am attached to my laptop, for it was distressingly much later before it occurred to me to check my phone. Indeed, there was a message from him, saying that he'd just gotten a project that needed to be finished by 5 PM, so perhaps we could meet earlier? (In a really puzzling twist, the text was from a number not in my phone. So how on earth did he get my number when I didn't have his? Interesting...)
I also discovered I had problems on my own end. Although I'd originally assumed that the conference call at 3 PM would be something I could skip without notice, a closer look at my calendar revealled that everyone on my larger team in London was all supposed to meet up in the office to attend the call. So definitely noticeable if I skipped out.
Hence, I texted him back, and got ready to go to the office or for tea, unsure of which one would be which. Finally, having not heard from him at the time I would need to go to the office, I decided to set out for the office as the default option. And good boy that he is, he called me as I was out on the street heading for the office, and we agreed to meet for tea at 5. Perfect! So I would get to go to my conference call AND tea, and everything would work out beautifully.
I arrived at the office a few minutes after I was supposed to arrive, to discover a crisis unfolding. They'd instituted a new online office-booking tool a few weeks back, and were claiming it was having "a few teething probelms". Which could also be translated as: "It's a total disaster."
Despite having clearly stated repeatedly that we needed a room with Roundtable videoconferencing capabilities, as people from all over the world were going to be dialling in to see us, we'd been put in a room with no Roundtable, and none were available. Of course, all those of us present, assuming that there would be video provided of much higher quality than our web cams, had failed to bring our personal ones along. We then had to simply sit and watch the meeting on a large screen overhead, but also they couldn't make the sound work, so we just had to turn up the volume on one laptop. With not enough plugs for everyone at the table, we ended up swapping power cords around. And then, just when we thought the room disaster couldn't get any worse, another group showed up claiming to have booked the room. Apparently even though we got an official fascilities support person to book us into the office (so we knew it was done right), the system had failed to register it and released it for booking by others. In the end, we were able to stay in the room, but the whole experience made us all swear that the new system was a disaster from end-to-end. Not worth it!
At last, the call was over and I was able to escape. It did occur to me as I was leaving that perhaps it was a bit poor form to dash off at 4:30 when the work day officially does not end until 5:30, and some people had travelled great distances to come into the London office. Yet, I had someone to meet.
Holborn station was closed due to a fire alert, so I arrived 15 minutes late, but the genius boy walked down from the Lansdowne at 5 PM, meeting me perfectly at the Wolseley at 5:15. He's smart, that boy is...
We asked for a table and joked around whist they prepared it for us, and then sat down to decide on our tea options. There were quite a few! We could have cream tea, high tea, champagne tea, and then there were the dessert and tea options... For just a tea menu it was quite impressive!
I was going to go for the apple-blackberry crumble, but as soon as I mentioned it Q decided he wanted that (power of suggestion, as my father says), so I went for the lemon merenguie that Q had recently thrown over.
When they brought out the tea, we each had these massive silver teapots filled with loose tea, and had to pour it into our cups through these genius tea filters with a swinging "catch" under them to automatically catch the drops. Took a bit of skill to do it right, but it was definitely a nifty little bit of 18th century design.
Since we had so much tea, we talked for ages, mostly about Q's quarter-life crisis, as he's realising that although he gets to do amazing things for his age by working for himself, it's a lot of hard work and perhaps it's time to do something else for a while. He's apparently been offered a spot on the MBA programme at Johns Hopkins if he does well enough on the GMAT, yet he fears he might not do well enough for a full scholarship, as he's never considered himself an academic. To me, this was puzzling, because he's always struck me as being so bright and clever, yet I realise that doesn't always translate into an ability to do well in an academic setting, like I have. I realised that perhaps this was not the time to reveal that I "studied" for the GRE by reading a test prep book on the train from Cambridge to London (no seriously, that was it), and yet I did well enough to be awarded a full scholarship at Oxford. I think I scored in the 99th percentile on every section, but it's not like I expected anything otherwise, as standardized testing has always been ridiculously easy for me. But as I talked to him about what he wanted to do and where he could get in, I have to remember that it is not thus for everyone, not even for my very bright and clever friends.
I enjoyed the conversation, as someone who went through their quarter-life crisis and found it to be an immensely valuable experience, I strongly encourage those who are experiencing these feelings of crisis to fully delve in and embrace the choices and options that are open to them, and see what they might like to do differently. And I realise that's why he enjoys my friendship so much, as I'm a wise older woman he can talk to (the way boys only can with girls), but without the silliness of younger girls. And I like him because he's clever, witty, and oh-so-charming. If only he were 10 years younger...
At one point, he excused himself to go use the loo, while nearly at the same point one of the two men at the table next to us excused himself to take a phone call outside. (I'd thought he was being rather rude to his companion, by speaking for so long at the table, before finally realising that this was not going to be a quick call and taking it outside.) So, as I naturally do, I just struck up a conversation with this total stranger at the next table over.
I have to admit, part of me was curious about whether the two men were in a gay relationship or whether it was a business meeting, but I never quite figured that out from our chat. We did talk about live in London, how long we'd lived here, and whether wearing glasses made us look smarter. It was so funny, as when Q returned to the table, after having left me for quite an extended period of time, he just took in the situation of me talking to a total stranger, and just nodded as though to say, "Well, of course you would."
Q is the type who probably would have done the same (he's so wonderfully friendly), and it's part of what he likes about me, is that he knows I'm the same. Not a girl he needs to worry about leaving on her own for a while!
Finally, we grabbed the bill, and I had to praise him again for suggesting tea. It's always the naturally done thing to constantly go for drinks, but after the previous night at the RAC I was a bit unenthusiastic about more alcohol (even if the cold was doing much better). And the Wolseley was such a lovely place, I can't believe I'd never been in for tea before. Definitely will need to add it to my repertoire of places to go!
We parted with a kiss, having had a marathon 2-hour tea drinking session, so it was time to head home. I had originally been planning on going reeling later that evening, as the night before at the RAC, I'd found myself chatting to quite a few people about going to reeling classes. It's rather funny, as you always hear in Jane Austen novels about everyone taking dancing lessons, and showing up to dances where everyone knew all of the steps and filled out a dance card in advance. And you think those days are over, but actually they're quite alive and well, and hence the need for dance lessons remains! Most surprising, it was all of the boys who were talking about going to dance classes to learn all of the steps to these reels, not the girls. Having been to quite a few reels where I had no idea what was going on, I figure it's about time I start going to classes and learning the steps. But that will have to wait for another time, as it was far too late tonight!
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
RAC Drinks
This evening a friend from Inter-Club events had decided to just randomly invite a whole bunch of us to the Royal Automobile Club for drinks. He's a Super-Nice Guy, and usually doesn't stay out too late at events anymore, as he has a really sweet and nice girlfriend who he often prefers to stay in with. So I was a bit surprised that he was the one to take the initiative to host a party, but it's not like we don't need an excuse to party!
I arrived at the RAC, and despite their sign admonishing that members needed to show cards, I just walked in like I knew where I was going, and of course nobody bothered me. Checked my coat in at the cloakroom, and then found everyone outside on the terrace.
It was a slightly chilly evening, but we stood near the heaters to ward off the cold, and enjoyed perhaps one of the last times of the year we would be able to stand outside. The Super-Nice Guy introduced me to a young recent grad from Oxford (Wadham) and after apologizing that he couldn't buy drinks for everyone (why would he even think that he should? The invite and organizing the get-together was plenty!), I took her downstairs and got her a bottle of mineral water and a glass of white wine for myself. She was a sweet little thing, obviously a bit shy and nervous at the first such gathering like this she had ever attended, so I did try to do my part and introduce her around to people. Every so often she would lose the attention of whoever she had been talking to and would gravitate back to me, at which point I would introduce her to more people. I would like to think that I'm learning to be more sympathetic towards shy people, and sometimes you have to be the nice person who is a shy person's saviour.
Saw tons of folks I knew and was making the rounds to say hello, when the staff at the RAC came out to let us know we were being too loud for the outdoors, and needed to retreat downstairs to the Long Bar. So in we went!
In the course of circulating conversation, I found myself chatting to the Australian Girl, a lovely Australian girl who had given me invaluable advice on travelling to Australia for my trip last Easter. We'd randomly met at the Caledonian Club and upon hearing about my trip, she'd taken it upon herself to make sure I was well-advised. Then, when I saw her two weeks ago, again at the Caledonian, I'd promised to write to her some advice about visiting Chicago. Only I hadn't done it, and here she was! So found myself apologizing, and promising to write the very next day (which I'll have you know I did).
It was funny, because in my conversations with B, I learned that he WAS dating the Australian Girl (as I'd first assumed when I met him, before we started meeting up for random coffee dates), although in retrospect I think it was a case of "settling down" a bit, and I was one more stop along the way before he decided he was with the Australian Girl. Fine enough.
The interesting bit is that B and I have continued a fine e-mailing friendship, where I've been able to tell him about the disasters of my nighttime escapades with the silly boy and chemistry-less dates with S. And he talks a bit about his relationship with the Australian Girl too. Needless to say, I did not mention ANY of this to the Australian Girl as we spoke, as she's really lovely and I genuinely like her, and just think that there's no way I could tell her without it coming out wrong. Although it was funny, as B e-mailed me the very next morning to say, "I hear the two of you got talking last night!" Reassured him that we'd just been talking about Chicago, as I think he'd also realised that the Australian Girl probably wouldn't be thrilled to hear about some of what WE discuss with each other..
As I was talking to the Australian Girl, some really old guy interrupted our conversation, and totally started taking it over. I'd been talking about the rescue of the Chilean miners (I'd had a marvellous day hitting refresh on my news websites, delighting as more and more of them were rescued), and I think he brought up some political topic. I don't know, I'm afraid I did something rather inexcusable, and escaped to go talk to someone else, leaving the Australian Girl stuck with the old guy. Oh well, she already has a boyfriend, so no real need to circulate quite as much, right?
I was then grabbed by the Ex-Boyfriend of my friend Caroline, who told me that he'd shown up for the drinks party I'd had on the terrace at the O&C last August, but he couldn't find me! He showed up right at 6:30 (the party start time), so perhaps he was just too early, although I thought I'd been right on time when I was there. Oh well, simply an excuse to have another party to show him the club, right?
I then found myself talking to J, an RAC member who I've gotten to know through all of these events, and indeed was originally supposed to sit with at my first Inter-Club event. Although in truth, we're more acquaintences than anything else, so I was surprised when upon getting the chance to properly talk with him, I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. He's a classic RAC stereotype, the working-class boy who made good, and made some money. Classic neauvo riche, but that's what the RAC is, and I have to admire these boys for it.
J bought me a drink, and we continued to chat, as started to think about quite how cute and charming he actually is. Okay, so he smokes, but he's incredibly nice. The same old guy who had interrupted my conversation with the Australian Girl earlier came up and took over our conversation, talking about exchange rates. We humoured him for a bit, but it was hysterical for, as soon as he walked away, J immediately said, "Phew! He's gone! Now what were we talking about before?" Made me laugh. So we dropped the conversation about exchange rates and went back to what we were originally talking about, it was hysterically funny.
Somehow J got dragged off (the boys were talking about cars), or maybe I did, where I found myself once again with S, the boy from the O&C with the gorgeous blue eyes. He's too young for me, but I still enjoy his company and the fact that he's a fellow member of the O&C. He bought me a drink as well, and we got to chatting as I just enjoyed the easy flirtation.
Still, didn't get stuck with him for too long, as the Overweight-Yet-Attractive guy showed up! Was lovely to see him, ask about his wife, and just chat and catch up for a bit. At least I got a chance to talk to him, as the Italian Guy (who is normally one of my favourite people to chat with at events like this) came over to apologize for not getting a chance to talk to me, but assuring me that we would connect next time. How sweet of him at least to come say hello!
They started shutting down the Long Bar, and somehow we made our way back outside to the terrace, where I found myself sitting with S, the Super-Nice Guy (our host for the evening), some random girl, and three other boys. One had the same name as my ex, one was called Jim, and one was seriously called Bertie. Like Bertie Wooster. I loved that! I'd never met anyone named Bertie before!!
After the introductions, I found myself sitting with Bertie, who obviously had reached a point in his cups where he'd lost all sorts of mouth filter, as he immediately complimented my chest (I know men frequently admire, but you still don't expect to hear comments out loud), and then asked me where I live, telling me, "I've got to figure out how I'll get home from there in the morning." Although I appreciated the interest, it was all a bit too much, and I was definitely engaging in some nervous laughter. Oh well, he was way too young, 25 of something like that. Apparently the other two were of more a reasonable age for me, but alas I didn't know this when we'd arranged our chairs to sit down.
The one other girl remaining (why can I never learn to leave events at a reasonable hour?) took an instant liking to me, although she was obviously a bit intimidated by all of the boys (it was her first time in a club like this). She wanted to go out dancing when the boys suggested it, but wanted me to come. Alas, I fear I just can't be bothered to babysit.
Finally everyone started to make a move, although all of the boys wanted to go to Whiskey Mist. Ugh, I hate over-priced nightclubs like that one, so there was definitely no way I was going. I looked to S to hopefully save me, declaring that I wouldn't leave until he went, but the faithless friend seemed up for going to Whiskey Mist. Damn. That's why, although I like him, I know he's too young for me.
At least the Super-Nice Guy who was our host for the evening seemed to realise that going out further was not the best idea. So he suggested we go downstairs and have tea. (Needless to say, I thought this was an excellent idea!) The others kept pleading to go out to Whiskey Mist, but the Super-Nice Guy was walking downstairs, and I moved to follow him.
I was surprised then when the Guy Who Has The Same Name As My Ex called out to me, and stopped me in the stairwell as I was headed down. I can't even recall HOW what happened next happened, but all of a sudden he was kissing me. Like full on, lips on lips, make-out session.
Yet I suppose in a display of how much wine I'd had, I felt so utterly removed from the situation. I kept my eyes wide open (I was NOT about to get caught making out with a random guy in the stairwell at the RAC, so I was ready go break away at the first sign of movement), and I had to note that the kiss was just sort of wet and full of saliva, something like what Dustin Hoffman described when the girl kissed him in "Rain Man".
As I stood there, the thought going through my mind was not anything about romance or passion, but just the query of, "How did he know that if he kissed me, I would kiss him back, instead of slapping him?" In truth, the only reason I was kissing him was because he had the same name as my ex, and I guess that name always brings up slightly misty-eyed associations for me. So I kissed him out of....nostalgia, I guess?
After I started to worry that the make-out session might have gone on a bit too long and we were in danger of being caught, I broke it off, once again refused to come to Whiskey Mist, and skipped downstairs to where the Super Nice Guy was sitting on a sofa by the pool and told him, "The most bizarre thing just happened..." I'm not sure if the Super-Nice guy even processed what I told him, as he'd obviously had quite a bit to drink, he just laughed.
The Super-Nice Guy then ordered tea for the both of us, and then pretty much promptly fell asleep on the couch. I drank my tea, assured the one remaining staff member that I would be back, quickly ran to the loo, and then came back to find the Super-Nice Guy still slumpering on the couch. So I gave him a kiss in an attempt to wake him up, but that didn't work, so I just shook him. Finally he woke, and I suggested that it was time for him to go off to bed.
At the RAC, they actually have dormintory-style bedding for the men, where they can pass out after a night of drinking, and the staff will launder and iron their shirt, so that their suit is clean and pressed and ready to go in the morning. Only men can stay due to the open plan (and would any woman ever want to admit that she had so much to drink that she needed to crash at the club?), but for only £30, it's excellent value as it saves one the cab fare.
For me however, it was time to catch a cab. So the staff went and got my coat, hailed a cab for me, and piled me into it. £17 later, I was home!
In the morning, I did worry that I might have seemed like I was coming onto the Super-Nice Guy. I hope he didn't see it that way, because that would be awkward. After all, his girlfriend is absolutely lovely, and one of the reasons I went with him rather than out with the crowd of dodgy boys, is that he's so devoted to his girlfriend I knew I was totally safe with him. So I sent him a quick thank-you e-mail, hoping it wouldn't be misinterpreted, and got a nice, but not unusual response. Phew! Looks like I may have handled that one okay.
In the future I really need to learn to leave events at a more reasonable hour, but a friend pointed out, that I wouldn't have nearly as many interesting late-night adventures if I did. Kissing random boys in the stairwell of the RAC? You have to admit, it makes for good stories later!
I arrived at the RAC, and despite their sign admonishing that members needed to show cards, I just walked in like I knew where I was going, and of course nobody bothered me. Checked my coat in at the cloakroom, and then found everyone outside on the terrace.
It was a slightly chilly evening, but we stood near the heaters to ward off the cold, and enjoyed perhaps one of the last times of the year we would be able to stand outside. The Super-Nice Guy introduced me to a young recent grad from Oxford (Wadham) and after apologizing that he couldn't buy drinks for everyone (why would he even think that he should? The invite and organizing the get-together was plenty!), I took her downstairs and got her a bottle of mineral water and a glass of white wine for myself. She was a sweet little thing, obviously a bit shy and nervous at the first such gathering like this she had ever attended, so I did try to do my part and introduce her around to people. Every so often she would lose the attention of whoever she had been talking to and would gravitate back to me, at which point I would introduce her to more people. I would like to think that I'm learning to be more sympathetic towards shy people, and sometimes you have to be the nice person who is a shy person's saviour.
Saw tons of folks I knew and was making the rounds to say hello, when the staff at the RAC came out to let us know we were being too loud for the outdoors, and needed to retreat downstairs to the Long Bar. So in we went!
In the course of circulating conversation, I found myself chatting to the Australian Girl, a lovely Australian girl who had given me invaluable advice on travelling to Australia for my trip last Easter. We'd randomly met at the Caledonian Club and upon hearing about my trip, she'd taken it upon herself to make sure I was well-advised. Then, when I saw her two weeks ago, again at the Caledonian, I'd promised to write to her some advice about visiting Chicago. Only I hadn't done it, and here she was! So found myself apologizing, and promising to write the very next day (which I'll have you know I did).
It was funny, because in my conversations with B, I learned that he WAS dating the Australian Girl (as I'd first assumed when I met him, before we started meeting up for random coffee dates), although in retrospect I think it was a case of "settling down" a bit, and I was one more stop along the way before he decided he was with the Australian Girl. Fine enough.
The interesting bit is that B and I have continued a fine e-mailing friendship, where I've been able to tell him about the disasters of my nighttime escapades with the silly boy and chemistry-less dates with S. And he talks a bit about his relationship with the Australian Girl too. Needless to say, I did not mention ANY of this to the Australian Girl as we spoke, as she's really lovely and I genuinely like her, and just think that there's no way I could tell her without it coming out wrong. Although it was funny, as B e-mailed me the very next morning to say, "I hear the two of you got talking last night!" Reassured him that we'd just been talking about Chicago, as I think he'd also realised that the Australian Girl probably wouldn't be thrilled to hear about some of what WE discuss with each other..
As I was talking to the Australian Girl, some really old guy interrupted our conversation, and totally started taking it over. I'd been talking about the rescue of the Chilean miners (I'd had a marvellous day hitting refresh on my news websites, delighting as more and more of them were rescued), and I think he brought up some political topic. I don't know, I'm afraid I did something rather inexcusable, and escaped to go talk to someone else, leaving the Australian Girl stuck with the old guy. Oh well, she already has a boyfriend, so no real need to circulate quite as much, right?
I was then grabbed by the Ex-Boyfriend of my friend Caroline, who told me that he'd shown up for the drinks party I'd had on the terrace at the O&C last August, but he couldn't find me! He showed up right at 6:30 (the party start time), so perhaps he was just too early, although I thought I'd been right on time when I was there. Oh well, simply an excuse to have another party to show him the club, right?
I then found myself talking to J, an RAC member who I've gotten to know through all of these events, and indeed was originally supposed to sit with at my first Inter-Club event. Although in truth, we're more acquaintences than anything else, so I was surprised when upon getting the chance to properly talk with him, I thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. He's a classic RAC stereotype, the working-class boy who made good, and made some money. Classic neauvo riche, but that's what the RAC is, and I have to admire these boys for it.
J bought me a drink, and we continued to chat, as started to think about quite how cute and charming he actually is. Okay, so he smokes, but he's incredibly nice. The same old guy who had interrupted my conversation with the Australian Girl earlier came up and took over our conversation, talking about exchange rates. We humoured him for a bit, but it was hysterical for, as soon as he walked away, J immediately said, "Phew! He's gone! Now what were we talking about before?" Made me laugh. So we dropped the conversation about exchange rates and went back to what we were originally talking about, it was hysterically funny.
Somehow J got dragged off (the boys were talking about cars), or maybe I did, where I found myself once again with S, the boy from the O&C with the gorgeous blue eyes. He's too young for me, but I still enjoy his company and the fact that he's a fellow member of the O&C. He bought me a drink as well, and we got to chatting as I just enjoyed the easy flirtation.
Still, didn't get stuck with him for too long, as the Overweight-Yet-Attractive guy showed up! Was lovely to see him, ask about his wife, and just chat and catch up for a bit. At least I got a chance to talk to him, as the Italian Guy (who is normally one of my favourite people to chat with at events like this) came over to apologize for not getting a chance to talk to me, but assuring me that we would connect next time. How sweet of him at least to come say hello!
They started shutting down the Long Bar, and somehow we made our way back outside to the terrace, where I found myself sitting with S, the Super-Nice Guy (our host for the evening), some random girl, and three other boys. One had the same name as my ex, one was called Jim, and one was seriously called Bertie. Like Bertie Wooster. I loved that! I'd never met anyone named Bertie before!!
After the introductions, I found myself sitting with Bertie, who obviously had reached a point in his cups where he'd lost all sorts of mouth filter, as he immediately complimented my chest (I know men frequently admire, but you still don't expect to hear comments out loud), and then asked me where I live, telling me, "I've got to figure out how I'll get home from there in the morning." Although I appreciated the interest, it was all a bit too much, and I was definitely engaging in some nervous laughter. Oh well, he was way too young, 25 of something like that. Apparently the other two were of more a reasonable age for me, but alas I didn't know this when we'd arranged our chairs to sit down.
The one other girl remaining (why can I never learn to leave events at a reasonable hour?) took an instant liking to me, although she was obviously a bit intimidated by all of the boys (it was her first time in a club like this). She wanted to go out dancing when the boys suggested it, but wanted me to come. Alas, I fear I just can't be bothered to babysit.
Finally everyone started to make a move, although all of the boys wanted to go to Whiskey Mist. Ugh, I hate over-priced nightclubs like that one, so there was definitely no way I was going. I looked to S to hopefully save me, declaring that I wouldn't leave until he went, but the faithless friend seemed up for going to Whiskey Mist. Damn. That's why, although I like him, I know he's too young for me.
At least the Super-Nice Guy who was our host for the evening seemed to realise that going out further was not the best idea. So he suggested we go downstairs and have tea. (Needless to say, I thought this was an excellent idea!) The others kept pleading to go out to Whiskey Mist, but the Super-Nice Guy was walking downstairs, and I moved to follow him.
I was surprised then when the Guy Who Has The Same Name As My Ex called out to me, and stopped me in the stairwell as I was headed down. I can't even recall HOW what happened next happened, but all of a sudden he was kissing me. Like full on, lips on lips, make-out session.
Yet I suppose in a display of how much wine I'd had, I felt so utterly removed from the situation. I kept my eyes wide open (I was NOT about to get caught making out with a random guy in the stairwell at the RAC, so I was ready go break away at the first sign of movement), and I had to note that the kiss was just sort of wet and full of saliva, something like what Dustin Hoffman described when the girl kissed him in "Rain Man".
As I stood there, the thought going through my mind was not anything about romance or passion, but just the query of, "How did he know that if he kissed me, I would kiss him back, instead of slapping him?" In truth, the only reason I was kissing him was because he had the same name as my ex, and I guess that name always brings up slightly misty-eyed associations for me. So I kissed him out of....nostalgia, I guess?
After I started to worry that the make-out session might have gone on a bit too long and we were in danger of being caught, I broke it off, once again refused to come to Whiskey Mist, and skipped downstairs to where the Super Nice Guy was sitting on a sofa by the pool and told him, "The most bizarre thing just happened..." I'm not sure if the Super-Nice guy even processed what I told him, as he'd obviously had quite a bit to drink, he just laughed.
The Super-Nice Guy then ordered tea for the both of us, and then pretty much promptly fell asleep on the couch. I drank my tea, assured the one remaining staff member that I would be back, quickly ran to the loo, and then came back to find the Super-Nice Guy still slumpering on the couch. So I gave him a kiss in an attempt to wake him up, but that didn't work, so I just shook him. Finally he woke, and I suggested that it was time for him to go off to bed.
At the RAC, they actually have dormintory-style bedding for the men, where they can pass out after a night of drinking, and the staff will launder and iron their shirt, so that their suit is clean and pressed and ready to go in the morning. Only men can stay due to the open plan (and would any woman ever want to admit that she had so much to drink that she needed to crash at the club?), but for only £30, it's excellent value as it saves one the cab fare.
For me however, it was time to catch a cab. So the staff went and got my coat, hailed a cab for me, and piled me into it. £17 later, I was home!
In the morning, I did worry that I might have seemed like I was coming onto the Super-Nice Guy. I hope he didn't see it that way, because that would be awkward. After all, his girlfriend is absolutely lovely, and one of the reasons I went with him rather than out with the crowd of dodgy boys, is that he's so devoted to his girlfriend I knew I was totally safe with him. So I sent him a quick thank-you e-mail, hoping it wouldn't be misinterpreted, and got a nice, but not unusual response. Phew! Looks like I may have handled that one okay.
In the future I really need to learn to leave events at a more reasonable hour, but a friend pointed out, that I wouldn't have nearly as many interesting late-night adventures if I did. Kissing random boys in the stairwell of the RAC? You have to admit, it makes for good stories later!
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Coming Back Around
I was feeling particularly sick and miserable today, but by the end of the day I was so desperate to get out of the house that I left for the evening's run a bit early, even knowing that it would make me arrive at least 45 minutes before the crowds.
When I arrived, I learned that our hare for the evening had done a "cloverleaf" run, where we did three big loops, each ending at a drinks stop in the middle. I ran the entire time with a handful of serviettes that I'd stolen from the pub, and kept ahold of my cup for the drinks stops as well, as I didn't want to infect anybody else.
Yet for the most part it was a really fun run, as everyone kept coming back to the middle, and I was pleased with myself, as I'd thought about quitting and going back to the pub early, but in the end I stuck with it and completed the whole run, despite being so sick. Well done, me!
Once back at the pub, I spent a lot of time chatting with Cookie, Kim, and Kitty, all of whom were sick as well. There is definitely something going around! And of course, because I had the good gossip, told them all about all of the dates of the past week (although to my credit, for once I left out the story of the silly boy's poor performance in the bedroom). Yet, even without that detail, they all decided that based on his poor record of calling and evincing interest inbetween dates, he was officially declared to be a "twat." Which, when they said it outright, I had to agree was a totally accurate description. He is a twat.
So, when at a later point in the evening Reece asked me if I were "nearly single", I just laughed and said we didn't even need those qualifiers. I'm single. If the silly boy ever does call, we'll see if I'm free, but it's kind of funny how unconcerned I am about whether he calls or not. He's just more of an interesting diversion at this point than anything else...
Of course, some of my protestations may have had something to do with the fact that the Giant Australian was there. And it was weird, because at the start we didn't even talk to each other at all, almost as though we were weirdly avoiding each other. I didn't want to make a big deal of it, but it was nice when he later came to sit down on a bench next to me and talk to me.
After a bit, I'm sure it was obvious to anyone in the room that I was totally turned to him, as he was to me, and we'd finished our drinks but couldn't stop laughing and talking to each other. I was really running the gamut of inappropriate topics, from the economics of prostitution (quoting things I've read in the most recent Freakanomics book) to the idiocies perpetuated by romantic comedies. And he was making me laugh and telling me silly stories, and all of a sudden I remembered, "That's right. I really like you."
One that I remember was the tale of a friend who got drunk and then woke up in another girl's bed, when he already had a live-in girlfriend. And the live-in girlfriend called him at work the next morning, where the friend desperately tried to convince her that he'd just been working late and had slept in the office. To which, the live-in girlfriend said, "Nobody sleeps in the office. If you didn't come home to me, it's because you don't want to me with me. I'll have your things packed up and waiting outside by the end of the day."
I had to say, I was really impressed with the strength of the girl in the story, and I was pleased to see that he was telling the story from the same perspective, that the girl appeared that much more attractive by virtue of her unwillingness to accept what was obviously a feeble excuse. A good reminder that boys really do respect girls who stand up for themselves...
Particularly as he commented at one point, "I'm just not attracted to a girl if she's not smart," and I know that one of the things he likes most about me is my intelligence. Which is to say, it's not just that he thinks I'm cute, but he actually likes ME.
Eventually at around 11 PM, we looked around and realised that everyone had left the pub except for the two of us. Gosh, our ridiculous flirting must have been obvious to everybody. Yet, I enjoyed it so much. Just pausing for a moment and enjoying the company of a guy I've always refused for reasons that I suddenly can't quite recall.
So we walked out together, and then paused as we reached the point where we needed to go in opposite directions. "I'll see you on Friday, right?" he asked, referencing the party we're both going to. "What time will you be getting there?"
We parted without even a kiss on the cheek, which disappointed me, except that with my cold I realise I truly should not be kissing anybody. (The silly boy is undoubtedly deathly sick at this point after what I did to him on Wednesday!) So we parted, with me suddenly very much looking forward to Friday...
When I arrived, I learned that our hare for the evening had done a "cloverleaf" run, where we did three big loops, each ending at a drinks stop in the middle. I ran the entire time with a handful of serviettes that I'd stolen from the pub, and kept ahold of my cup for the drinks stops as well, as I didn't want to infect anybody else.
Yet for the most part it was a really fun run, as everyone kept coming back to the middle, and I was pleased with myself, as I'd thought about quitting and going back to the pub early, but in the end I stuck with it and completed the whole run, despite being so sick. Well done, me!
Once back at the pub, I spent a lot of time chatting with Cookie, Kim, and Kitty, all of whom were sick as well. There is definitely something going around! And of course, because I had the good gossip, told them all about all of the dates of the past week (although to my credit, for once I left out the story of the silly boy's poor performance in the bedroom). Yet, even without that detail, they all decided that based on his poor record of calling and evincing interest inbetween dates, he was officially declared to be a "twat." Which, when they said it outright, I had to agree was a totally accurate description. He is a twat.
So, when at a later point in the evening Reece asked me if I were "nearly single", I just laughed and said we didn't even need those qualifiers. I'm single. If the silly boy ever does call, we'll see if I'm free, but it's kind of funny how unconcerned I am about whether he calls or not. He's just more of an interesting diversion at this point than anything else...
Of course, some of my protestations may have had something to do with the fact that the Giant Australian was there. And it was weird, because at the start we didn't even talk to each other at all, almost as though we were weirdly avoiding each other. I didn't want to make a big deal of it, but it was nice when he later came to sit down on a bench next to me and talk to me.
After a bit, I'm sure it was obvious to anyone in the room that I was totally turned to him, as he was to me, and we'd finished our drinks but couldn't stop laughing and talking to each other. I was really running the gamut of inappropriate topics, from the economics of prostitution (quoting things I've read in the most recent Freakanomics book) to the idiocies perpetuated by romantic comedies. And he was making me laugh and telling me silly stories, and all of a sudden I remembered, "That's right. I really like you."
One that I remember was the tale of a friend who got drunk and then woke up in another girl's bed, when he already had a live-in girlfriend. And the live-in girlfriend called him at work the next morning, where the friend desperately tried to convince her that he'd just been working late and had slept in the office. To which, the live-in girlfriend said, "Nobody sleeps in the office. If you didn't come home to me, it's because you don't want to me with me. I'll have your things packed up and waiting outside by the end of the day."
I had to say, I was really impressed with the strength of the girl in the story, and I was pleased to see that he was telling the story from the same perspective, that the girl appeared that much more attractive by virtue of her unwillingness to accept what was obviously a feeble excuse. A good reminder that boys really do respect girls who stand up for themselves...
Particularly as he commented at one point, "I'm just not attracted to a girl if she's not smart," and I know that one of the things he likes most about me is my intelligence. Which is to say, it's not just that he thinks I'm cute, but he actually likes ME.
Eventually at around 11 PM, we looked around and realised that everyone had left the pub except for the two of us. Gosh, our ridiculous flirting must have been obvious to everybody. Yet, I enjoyed it so much. Just pausing for a moment and enjoying the company of a guy I've always refused for reasons that I suddenly can't quite recall.
So we walked out together, and then paused as we reached the point where we needed to go in opposite directions. "I'll see you on Friday, right?" he asked, referencing the party we're both going to. "What time will you be getting there?"
We parted without even a kiss on the cheek, which disappointed me, except that with my cold I realise I truly should not be kissing anybody. (The silly boy is undoubtedly deathly sick at this point after what I did to him on Wednesday!) So we parted, with me suddenly very much looking forward to Friday...
Monday, 11 October 2010
Kit Kat and Boden Women
I went to a talk this evening given by Baroness Greenfield, about the neuroscience of how computers are affecting our brains. It was at the invitation of my friend Fiona, who is a member of the Kit Kat Club, and who had graciously taken me to the club's lecture the month before. I'd had such a good time then that I wanted to come again, and plus, this month's topic sounded fascinating!
There was an opportunity for everyone to stand around, socializing and networking at the start, and so I found myself talking to two older women (probably mid-40s) with younger children. One started relating the tale of how her ex-husband had called her that morning to tell her that he was about to introduce his new girlfriend to the children. And it all sounded so ridiculously complicated, it just made me think that to be divorced with young children must be just about the worst thing ever.
Soon enough it was time for the talk, which was fascinating, although not what I had expected. I had assumed that we'd hear a lot about digital devices like Blackberrys and iPhones, and how they distract us from life, but she really talked a lot more about video games, brain development, and rats in an "enriched" environment. It reminded me of some lectures from when I'd been a psychology major as an undergrad, although I still think she made some very good points about how when everything seems a bit surreal, how you lose touch with what is reality. (i.e. If you can "kill" people in a video game and they pop back up to life, does that de-sensitize you to violence in the real world?)
Plus, I think she had an interesting quote from the CEO of Google, that we don't learn as well as when we read a book. So yes, while the internet provides a lot of interesting material at our fingertips, we don't delve as deeply into it as we do when we are reading a book.
Interesting comment because I've just finished reading one of Phillippa Gregory's new works, "The White Queen". And after reading the book I was thinking, "There is no way this story can possibly be true!" But a quick check on Wikipedia revealed that Elizabeth Woodville did indeed live a most amazing life.
And because of the nature of Wikipedia, before I knew it I was clicking through to other links and reading about many other people of that era and of other times. So yes, more information, but a simple Wikipedia page did not give me quite the richness of the story that a book did.
The best part of the whole evening however, was that afterwards they had arranged a discussion dinner, where you could sit and talk with Baroness Greenfield over dinner, and talk with the other attendees about other things you'd thought of during the talk. Really fascinating stuff. Of course, the conversation at times veered off-topic from the issue of electronics and the mind, but it was just also interesting to talk to these women, most somewhere in their 40's, about the successes they've seen in life and some of the lessons they've learned.
I found myself seated opposite my friend Fiona, and seated with a woman Claire, who will be turning 43 tomorrow, who is divorced with a 9-year old who goes to boarding school.
Her story was almost cliché, it was so horrible, as she'd apparently married a guy, gotten pregnant within a year, and then three weeks before the baby was due, he confessed to her that he'd been having an affair the entire time they were married (in fact in the entire time they were together, it was only the first two months that she'd had him to herself), and the kicker was that his mistress was also pregnant, and was due with a baby just a few weeks after their own son was due. He'd been living a double life the entire time.
Of course, she was shocked and horrified, and somehow survived that Christmas without telling friends or family, but as soon as the holidays were over and her son was born, she divorced her loser of a husband. (And it turned out that he abandoned the mistress too, who ended up taking him to court, and the whole thing was a big mess). Now, it just sounded sad, as he'd become one of those classic absent fathers, missing numerous school recitals and constantly letting his son down, no matter how much his mother tried to take the high road and encourage a positive father-son relationship. As well, she had always been the successful breadwinner in the relationship, so she doesn't even receive any financial support from him.
I asked her if she'd had any clue, and she told me that she'd been completely in the dark, although as soon as he told her a lot of things clicked in her head. She realises that in retrospect, all of her friends and family had been telling her that there was something not quite right about this guy, and she hadn't listened to them.
It just seemed so sad to me, to be the night before her 43rd birthday, and to be divorced and alone with a 9-year old son. And even then, her son is at boarding school, so often it's just an empty home. It was stunning to me, because this woman was obviously so professionally successful, and I have to admit that for being 43-years old she was incredibly good-looking. (I hope I can preserve my looks as well to that age!) Yet, what was it all worth when her life was dominated by an ex-husband who was obviously such a loser? It seems to me that never being married at all would be preferable to having so much of it ruined by such a jackass.
I was surprised she was so open about her marriage and personal life, so then I figured as long as everyone was being open and honest, there was no harm in telling the story of the silly boy's hideous bedroom performance last Wednesday. Their response was much the same as everyone else's, which is to say that although I might want to give him another shot, the whole thing didn't sound very positive. I suppose I need to stop dishing so much about my personal life at some point, but at this stage it's just more of an interesting exercise to get feedback and think things through. I'm not sure I could have done anything differently, but it still puzzles me how something that started so positively went so quickly pear-shaped.
After dinner (which was quite good, actually, and excellent value for £25), we ended up chatting about this and that, and about "Boden Women", which is to describe a certain type of London woman who would be likely to wear Boden clothes. And I had to look around at all of these stylishly dressed middle-aged women, one of whom was even in this gorgeous fitted skirt-suit that almost seemed a bit much of the event, but looked so sharp I had to admire it. It was definitely all a crowd of a certain type, and had made for a fascinating evening.
Finally though, it was time to head home. Fiona walked with me for a bit, but then caught a cab, whereas I just walked until I was able to pick up a bus from Notting Hill Gate back to Shepherd's Bush. I checked my phone and realised I'd missed a call from J, one of my oldest friends in the world, the funniest guy I know. Listed to a hysterically funny voicemail, and remembered that although things with the silly boy didn't turn out well, I'm lucky to know there are lots of great guys out there in the world.
There was an opportunity for everyone to stand around, socializing and networking at the start, and so I found myself talking to two older women (probably mid-40s) with younger children. One started relating the tale of how her ex-husband had called her that morning to tell her that he was about to introduce his new girlfriend to the children. And it all sounded so ridiculously complicated, it just made me think that to be divorced with young children must be just about the worst thing ever.
Soon enough it was time for the talk, which was fascinating, although not what I had expected. I had assumed that we'd hear a lot about digital devices like Blackberrys and iPhones, and how they distract us from life, but she really talked a lot more about video games, brain development, and rats in an "enriched" environment. It reminded me of some lectures from when I'd been a psychology major as an undergrad, although I still think she made some very good points about how when everything seems a bit surreal, how you lose touch with what is reality. (i.e. If you can "kill" people in a video game and they pop back up to life, does that de-sensitize you to violence in the real world?)
Plus, I think she had an interesting quote from the CEO of Google, that we don't learn as well as when we read a book. So yes, while the internet provides a lot of interesting material at our fingertips, we don't delve as deeply into it as we do when we are reading a book.
Interesting comment because I've just finished reading one of Phillippa Gregory's new works, "The White Queen". And after reading the book I was thinking, "There is no way this story can possibly be true!" But a quick check on Wikipedia revealed that Elizabeth Woodville did indeed live a most amazing life.
And because of the nature of Wikipedia, before I knew it I was clicking through to other links and reading about many other people of that era and of other times. So yes, more information, but a simple Wikipedia page did not give me quite the richness of the story that a book did.
The best part of the whole evening however, was that afterwards they had arranged a discussion dinner, where you could sit and talk with Baroness Greenfield over dinner, and talk with the other attendees about other things you'd thought of during the talk. Really fascinating stuff. Of course, the conversation at times veered off-topic from the issue of electronics and the mind, but it was just also interesting to talk to these women, most somewhere in their 40's, about the successes they've seen in life and some of the lessons they've learned.
I found myself seated opposite my friend Fiona, and seated with a woman Claire, who will be turning 43 tomorrow, who is divorced with a 9-year old who goes to boarding school.
Her story was almost cliché, it was so horrible, as she'd apparently married a guy, gotten pregnant within a year, and then three weeks before the baby was due, he confessed to her that he'd been having an affair the entire time they were married (in fact in the entire time they were together, it was only the first two months that she'd had him to herself), and the kicker was that his mistress was also pregnant, and was due with a baby just a few weeks after their own son was due. He'd been living a double life the entire time.
Of course, she was shocked and horrified, and somehow survived that Christmas without telling friends or family, but as soon as the holidays were over and her son was born, she divorced her loser of a husband. (And it turned out that he abandoned the mistress too, who ended up taking him to court, and the whole thing was a big mess). Now, it just sounded sad, as he'd become one of those classic absent fathers, missing numerous school recitals and constantly letting his son down, no matter how much his mother tried to take the high road and encourage a positive father-son relationship. As well, she had always been the successful breadwinner in the relationship, so she doesn't even receive any financial support from him.
I asked her if she'd had any clue, and she told me that she'd been completely in the dark, although as soon as he told her a lot of things clicked in her head. She realises that in retrospect, all of her friends and family had been telling her that there was something not quite right about this guy, and she hadn't listened to them.
It just seemed so sad to me, to be the night before her 43rd birthday, and to be divorced and alone with a 9-year old son. And even then, her son is at boarding school, so often it's just an empty home. It was stunning to me, because this woman was obviously so professionally successful, and I have to admit that for being 43-years old she was incredibly good-looking. (I hope I can preserve my looks as well to that age!) Yet, what was it all worth when her life was dominated by an ex-husband who was obviously such a loser? It seems to me that never being married at all would be preferable to having so much of it ruined by such a jackass.
I was surprised she was so open about her marriage and personal life, so then I figured as long as everyone was being open and honest, there was no harm in telling the story of the silly boy's hideous bedroom performance last Wednesday. Their response was much the same as everyone else's, which is to say that although I might want to give him another shot, the whole thing didn't sound very positive. I suppose I need to stop dishing so much about my personal life at some point, but at this stage it's just more of an interesting exercise to get feedback and think things through. I'm not sure I could have done anything differently, but it still puzzles me how something that started so positively went so quickly pear-shaped.
After dinner (which was quite good, actually, and excellent value for £25), we ended up chatting about this and that, and about "Boden Women", which is to describe a certain type of London woman who would be likely to wear Boden clothes. And I had to look around at all of these stylishly dressed middle-aged women, one of whom was even in this gorgeous fitted skirt-suit that almost seemed a bit much of the event, but looked so sharp I had to admire it. It was definitely all a crowd of a certain type, and had made for a fascinating evening.
Finally though, it was time to head home. Fiona walked with me for a bit, but then caught a cab, whereas I just walked until I was able to pick up a bus from Notting Hill Gate back to Shepherd's Bush. I checked my phone and realised I'd missed a call from J, one of my oldest friends in the world, the funniest guy I know. Listed to a hysterically funny voicemail, and remembered that although things with the silly boy didn't turn out well, I'm lucky to know there are lots of great guys out there in the world.
Sunday, 10 October 2010
The New Place
In the morning, I recognized that I needed to actually go get the keys to my new place. My new flatmate said she was going out to the gym, but left them for me under the back wheel of her bike. So it was kind of nice that she wasn't home as I went in for the first time to check out my new place.
And as soon as I saw the room with my new bed, I gave an annoyed sigh of frustration. Because I'd repeatedly told my new landlord that I wanted a bed with a bedstead, not a divan, as then I could put the bed up on risers and use the space underneath for storage. But of course, what had he done? Gone and gotten a bed with a divan!!
At the very least, this divan did have four under-bed drawers for storage, but to give me any sort of space in the room, I would want to push the bed over into the far corner, which meant that two of the drawers would be completely useless for storage. I checked at how hard it would be to put the divan up on risers, but since the thing was one of those types that can split in half, I could see no way to rise it up without it collapsing in the middle. No headboard either, which is something I've really come to appreciate in my current bed, so I can be propped up in bed and work.
The mattress as well was nowhere near as nice as the one I've currently been sleeping on, but given that it's only a few months old, I suppose that's not a surprise. This one was obviously just not as nice, although when I lay on it, it was nowhere near as bad as the mattress that had been in my current place when I moved in, so I suppose it's all a fair compromise.
Finally, just annoyed and frustrated, I went home again. And I suppose it was mostly the sad frustration of realising that the place I'm moving into is nowhere near as nice as where I currently live. Perhaps an indication that the next time I move, it should really be into a place I own. How I hope I can manage to make that happen.
Spent the rest of the day doing some grocery shopping, getting some work done, doing some cooking, and talking to my parents on the phone. And finally catching up on my blog as well, which I seem to rely far too much on lazy Sunday afternoons to keep up with!
And as soon as I saw the room with my new bed, I gave an annoyed sigh of frustration. Because I'd repeatedly told my new landlord that I wanted a bed with a bedstead, not a divan, as then I could put the bed up on risers and use the space underneath for storage. But of course, what had he done? Gone and gotten a bed with a divan!!
At the very least, this divan did have four under-bed drawers for storage, but to give me any sort of space in the room, I would want to push the bed over into the far corner, which meant that two of the drawers would be completely useless for storage. I checked at how hard it would be to put the divan up on risers, but since the thing was one of those types that can split in half, I could see no way to rise it up without it collapsing in the middle. No headboard either, which is something I've really come to appreciate in my current bed, so I can be propped up in bed and work.
The mattress as well was nowhere near as nice as the one I've currently been sleeping on, but given that it's only a few months old, I suppose that's not a surprise. This one was obviously just not as nice, although when I lay on it, it was nowhere near as bad as the mattress that had been in my current place when I moved in, so I suppose it's all a fair compromise.
Finally, just annoyed and frustrated, I went home again. And I suppose it was mostly the sad frustration of realising that the place I'm moving into is nowhere near as nice as where I currently live. Perhaps an indication that the next time I move, it should really be into a place I own. How I hope I can manage to make that happen.
Spent the rest of the day doing some grocery shopping, getting some work done, doing some cooking, and talking to my parents on the phone. And finally catching up on my blog as well, which I seem to rely far too much on lazy Sunday afternoons to keep up with!
Saturday, 9 October 2010
So Sick
To say that I felt like death this morning is to deny the wonderful, sweet release that death might have provided from the agonizing pain I was in. I don't know if it's just that I've gone so long without a hangover that the pain hit me extra hard, if it was the cold, stuffed nose and flu symptoms on top of the alcohol pain, or what, but I can not recall ever having a hangover that was so bad.
At the very least, you can rest assured that my "no hangovers" policy will be re-instituted with IMMEDIATE effect. Probably will have to be off alcohol for a while too, simply because even the thought makes me slightly nauseous. I'd seriously forgotten how bad this can be.
I did have time to think however, as I suffered through my chills and fever and suffering, that if this were at all what the silly boy was going through on Thursday morning, perhaps his behaviour should be excused. At least, until something better comes along, if he calls, I might as well keep going out with him. As what else do I have to do in the meantime?
My new flatmate texted in the morning to say to call her so I could come get my keys, but I was too poorly to even consider it. Later on, I found that I'd missed a call from Sara to say thanks and apologize if she behaved badly, because she couldn't remember half the night! I had to laugh, and called her back leaving a message saying, "You and me both, sister!"
Still, a check of all of my things makes it appear that I made it home safely in one piece with everything I should have had. All my money, my handbag, my cloak...it was all there. So I suppose nothing too bad can possibly have happened, right? Ugh, but lesson learned, never drink like that again!
And seriously, all I did all day was be sick. Blew my nose, slept, took some more meds, went back to sleep. Just hideous, all around. Finally showered in the evening in an effort to feel somewhat more human, and then went right back to bed!
At the very least, you can rest assured that my "no hangovers" policy will be re-instituted with IMMEDIATE effect. Probably will have to be off alcohol for a while too, simply because even the thought makes me slightly nauseous. I'd seriously forgotten how bad this can be.
I did have time to think however, as I suffered through my chills and fever and suffering, that if this were at all what the silly boy was going through on Thursday morning, perhaps his behaviour should be excused. At least, until something better comes along, if he calls, I might as well keep going out with him. As what else do I have to do in the meantime?
My new flatmate texted in the morning to say to call her so I could come get my keys, but I was too poorly to even consider it. Later on, I found that I'd missed a call from Sara to say thanks and apologize if she behaved badly, because she couldn't remember half the night! I had to laugh, and called her back leaving a message saying, "You and me both, sister!"
Still, a check of all of my things makes it appear that I made it home safely in one piece with everything I should have had. All my money, my handbag, my cloak...it was all there. So I suppose nothing too bad can possibly have happened, right? Ugh, but lesson learned, never drink like that again!
And seriously, all I did all day was be sick. Blew my nose, slept, took some more meds, went back to sleep. Just hideous, all around. Finally showered in the evening in an effort to feel somewhat more human, and then went right back to bed!
Magdalene College Dinner
At last, after all of this time preparing, the night we'd been planning for since last May was finally at hand! We had a few last-minute hiccups (one girl cancelled on us at the last minute, but Tristan managed to convince JG to take her place), and eventually it was time to head to the club for pre-dinner drinks.
I ran into another friend at the club who was on her way out to the Army & Navy Club for the Murder Mystery Dinner that evening. We chatted for a bit, although I was really eager to go and join everyone for drinks before the champagne reception. I found a group already having champagne in the bar, and they suggested I grab a glass and join them. So I had a little bit of champagne, before the banqueting manager told me they were ready for us, and so we all made our way into the drawing room for the champagne reception.
I was surprised at how quickly the room filled, and also how professional the staff were, carefully counting how many people had arrived so they'd know when everyone had made it and it was time to head into dinner. We did run into a minor hiccup when it was revealed that GY (our guest of honour) was stuck in traffic and was going to be late. The real trick about this was that he was supposed to do the college grace for us, but some quick checking around the room revealed that we had not one but TWO chaps who still remembered the college grace and offered to do it for us.
So I spent some more time chatting to people, spending most of my time talking to my good friend Ali, who pointed out that this was actually quite silly, given that we were seated together at dinner. So then we actually split up and walked in opposite directions, assured that we would be talking again at dinnertime!
Saw JG as he came in, but barely got a chance to greet him as I had so many other guests coming up to me to say hello. It almost reminded me of a birthday party, where it's a terribly way to catch up with your friends when they're all there at the same time and wanting to say hello to you! At least I did get a chance to say hello to Sophie, and hear the surprising news that she was engaged to the boyfriend she'd sworn never to marry. How lovely for them! And the thought did occur to me as I stood there chatting with all of my good friends, "Is this really the sort of crowd I could introduce the silly boy to? A boy who had to dig up one of his few ties to meet me on Wednesday night?" It's funny how much we'd want someone we dated to get along with our friends...
Finally we gave the majordomo the signal that we had everyone except our guest speaker, and so we were ready to go into dinner. So with that, the gavel was struck, and the majordomo informed us all that it was time to head into dinner.
It almost took me back in time as we were all told to stand for grace, and the words sounded so instantly familiar as they resounded out in that loud, clear Latin throughout the room: "Benedic Domine nobis et donis tuis...." Except then the two chaps who knew the grace had a surprise for us, as instead of deciding between the two of them, they proceeded to pass the grace off between them, each saying a stanza and then turning to the other. It was actually a really lovely sound, the two male voices speaking strongly and clearly as they continued, "....quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi, et concede ut illis salubriter nutriti tibi debitum obsequium praestare valeamus, per Jesum Christum Dominum et Servatorem Nostrum". And with that, we at last all knew the final word, "Amen!"
Dinner itself was lovely, and I had a fine time chatting to Ali, as well as a bit with the other people around us. Our guest, GY, arrived and I got up to greet him, thanking him for fighting all of the traffic to come join us for dinner. Doro then came over to point out to me that we had to get someone to do the Loyal Toast, something I'd completely forgotten about. Luckily, one of the gracious young men who had done our grace was also willing to continue his responsibilities, discharging not only the post-dinner grace but this duty as well. So at the end of the evening, once we had all stood and responded to the call of "Laus Deo" with the traditional "Deo Gratias", our master of the grace stood up again and declared, "To the Queen, and to Magdalene!" To which we all responded, "To the Queen! To Magalene!" And my friend Doug gave the final resounding call which we all needed to remember, "Garde Ta Foy!"
As we finally retook our seats and resumed passing the port to the left, we then settled back to listen to our post-dinner speaker. GY gave a lovely account of all that was new at college these days, although I think he was surprised when it all turned into a bit of "call-and-response" as Doug in particularly yelled out comments in response to various points (including everyone's gasped laughter when they heard how well the college was doing academically these days, apparently 3rd in the Tompkins League tables!)
At last, everyone just settled down to finish drinking port and circulate to say hello to all of their friends. And I must say, that with the pressure of planning the dinner finally over, and so much wine and port circulating, I did something very foolish (which I never normally do), and completely lost track of the evening at this point.
I have vague and fuzzy memories of being up on the roof terrace and thinking I should go talk to JG (but never quite making it to do so), and then being in the club bar, talking to one Tristan's friends, Alex, who I also know well. And Alex telling me that I should just date Tristan, which I agree would be a fine idea, if only I had any indication that Tristan was at all interested! Ah well, such is the problem with these things...
Finally, I just remember being very confused and not able to find anyone except my friend Sophie, who was trying to find Tristan who had been holding onto the key to her room for safe-keeping, except that he was now nowhere to be seen. So I went with her to the front desk to make sure that they could get her into her room, and then finally figured out that it was time for me to stumble into a cab.
Given that when I checked in the morning I had everything I'd come with, except for the £18 I'd obviously spent on the cab, I have to say that I did quite well for being in such a state. Still, it's such a pity that so much of the evening is such a blur, as I'm sure many more interesting things happened that I simply can't remember! One more reason not to drink too much, as then you miss out on half the fun!
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