Lansdowne Moveable Feast

When I woke up in the morning, I felt distinctly unhappy. Somewhat of a surprise, because I'd felt reasonably okay when going to bed, but I guess I'd had more to drink the night before than I'd realised.

It was particularly unfortunate that I was feeling so wrecked, because today I was supposed to go into the office so I could meet some work colleagues and catch up with my friend Sara for lunch. So although I would have much preferred to work from home and take things easy, I had to drag myself up and out.

I didn't manage to do so in a very timely manner however, and it was 11 AM by the time I made it to the office, and there were no spare desks to be found ANYWHERE. So I sat in the cafeteria for a while, which was okay until that became crowded with the lunchtime crowd, and I was joined by a young woman who attacked her food with hideous manners, acting as though she hadn't eaten in months. Very off-putting, but I was soon rescued by the work colleague I was supposed to meet.

We walked down to Canon Street together, where I met Sara for a very nice lunch. Afterwards, I was in no mood to return to the over-crowded office, so went to our secondary office, where I was able to finish out the afternoon working at a real desk, like a normal person.

After work, I dashed to the Lansdowne Club, where there was an "Under-35's Moveable Feast" happening that evening. The idea is that after every course, the men move several places clockwise around the table, and so you get to chat with multiple people throughout the course of the evening.

Given that Obama's been in London these past few days (and a bit confused about what year it is), as soon as we sat down for the first course, the chap to my left asked me what I thought of Obama. Diving into politics straight away? Okay.... Basically I told him that I think Barack Obama is my new bicycle.

To which he replied, "It's such a shame, as I really think Sarah Palin would make a great president. I really hope she runs in 2012."

Now of course, you have to wonder at such events, are people just trying to mess with you? Was this guy trying to be as outrageous as possible, just to get a rise out of me? So trying to stay calm, I questioned him further, and found out throughout the course of the evening that Obama was an evil lying back-stabbing jerk, that the Democratic party was going to be responsible for the downfall of America, that if Palin didn't run, Michelle Bachman was really the only person who could save America, and that that the Dali Llama was a two-faced liar who secretly ran prostitution rings. (No seriously, that last statement just sort of had me agog, as I couldn't even think of how to respond. I mean, I'd brought up the Dali Llama in an effort to tone down the conversation, because doesn't EVERYBODY like the Dali Llama?)

Anyway, I survived the entire first course without throwing my soup on this guy (gaspacho, it would have been delightfully cold and left red stains everywhere), or attacking him with my dinner fork (although I obviously fantasized about it), he moved on. Thank goodness for this rotational format, eh?

My next dining companion turned out to be only 19-years old, but at least he didn't spend the whole time insulting Obama. Then, for the final course, I ended up in-between Super Social Scottish Guy and a South African Who Drinks Too Much. So no new conversation there, although it was ever-so-slightly awkward when Super Social Scottish Guy kept saying, "If we don't have partners at the end of this year, we should totally get together" and other similar comments. I know the guy has a crush on me, but as nice as he is, I just don't think of him that way. I know looks aren't everything, but you should be able to imagine getting naked with someone without a shudder of distaste, right? And it's just awkward how he likes me, but just dances around it without ever just going for it or not. But I guess some men find girls to be tricky creatures...

When I finally left the table, I checked my phone and noticed I had a missed call. It was the Young Dutchman! Much more eager to talk to him than anybody who was actually present that evening, I went and called him back. We had a good chat for 20 minutes or so, which was much better than any conversation I'd had with any other boy so far that evening.

When I finally finished up the conversation and returned to the group, my friend Stephanie commented to me that she thinks the two of us will get together eventually, although I doubt it. He's just too young, and our lives aren't in the same place. But how telling that I'd rather talk to him than the actual company present that evening.

Finally, bored and still quite tired from my lack of sleep the night before, I decided to head home. Which set off the most extraordinary chain of events.

10:23 pm - Trying to get away from the crazy Palin supporter, I decided to leave a bit early.
10:24 pm - Because there was a crazy homeless man shouting at people on my usual route back to the train station, I took a slightly longer way around.
10:31 pm - In the station, I dithered for a moment. Picadilly Line or Jubilee Line? It was a bit of a chilly evening, so decided to go for Jubilee Line, since that would keep me underground when changing trains
10:37 pm - Changing trains at Bond Street, I decide to stand on the first set of escalators, because my shoe is rubbing me and I want to fix it
10:38 pm - About to step onto the second set of escalators going up, I look over, and there is an old friend I haven't seen in months coming down. At that exact moment. In that precise spot. And he sees me and I see him, and he exclaims, "This is like something from sliding doors!"

This guy is from my college at Cambridge, although several years older than I am. I met him through a Magdalene in the City event, the full story of which I first recounted here.

And this is what I love about being me: Instead of just exchanging a polite nod or wave or even a few words, this guy was so excited to see me that he said, "C'mon, let's go grab a pint!"

So we exited Bond Street station, and after searching for a little bit, found a pub that was still open and playing crazy Irish music. He bought me a London Pride while he had a pint of Guinness, and so we sat together talking about life (mostly his new 1-month old son and how he wanted to change jobs), and remarked at how even one or two seconds in the opposite direction, and we would have missed each other.

We talked a lot about his career and what he wanted to do with his life, and I'd like to think that some of the advice I gave resonated. (He actually got out a scrap of paper and started taking notes). And I wonder if perhaps he embarks on a new career path as a result of our conversation, we can put it all down to the mysterious split-second timing of fate...