Bavarian Lunch and Opera

This afternoon was the Bavarian Luncheon that Doro and the Wild Welshman had been planning for ages. I'd been feeling a lot of guilt about it, as I had originally thought that I wouldn't be able to go, as my cousin was due to return from Paris on Friday, and so I thought I would be entertaining her. Yet Doro and the Wild Welshman had asked me for help in filling the numbers, so I'd invited a lot of friends (who logically assumed I would be there as well), and had just been avoiding the fact that I wouldn't be attending. However my cousin e-mailed me on Thursday night to say that she wasn't coming home until Saturday night, so on Friday morning I called and managed to get the last ticket for the luncheon. So in the end it all worked out perfectly.

I work up a bit late (have been so exhausted these days!), but got showered, did my hair up in some "Heidi"-style braids, and dressed up with my best approximation of Bavarian dress, a long blue skirt, white blouse, and my grandmother's 1920's-style lily necklace. Ran out of my flat, but when I was about five minutes down the street, I suddenly wondered if I'd locked the deadbolt on my flat on auto-pilot. Since my cousin was arriving late in the evening, but I'd only given her keys for the latch lock, it was important that I didn't lock the deadbolt if she was going to be able to get in. So I ran back, found I had indeed accidentally locked the deadbolt, fixed that, and then made my way off to the club. (This minor detail becomes significant later...)

I arrived at the club, and was greeted by a familiar member of staff who said he hadn't recognised me for a second there with my head all done up. He handed me a beer stein and a bottle of real German beer, and then I went in to join everyone else in the room standing around for "cocktail hour", with all of our beer. I think I was too frantically trying to circulate, so I barely ended up talking to anyone I wanted to speak to. Chatted ever-so-briefly with Doro's boyfriend (first time I'd met him even though they've been dating for about six months), talked a bit to Seb (from our weekend in Berlin), and then saw a weirdly familiar-looking guy, who upon introduction turned out to be the Wild Welshman's brother. No wonder he looked familiar!

Then the oompah band marched through to call us in to lunch, where I found myself seated with a bunch of people I didn't know. I was rather concerned about this, and while I didn't have any truly stunning conversations, I did have some pleasant chats with people, so it all turned out okay.

The best part of the afternoon however, was the band. I had originally been suspicious when Doro and the Wild Welshman had wanted to get an oompah band playing for this event, but that turned out to have been a genius move. They got us standing up for "Bier Hier", toasting with "prost", and then doing silly seated drinking songs, with everyone swaying left-right-left-right-forwards-backwards-stand up-sit down" in their chairs. They did the Radesky March as we all thumped our beer steins on the table (I felt like I was back at German Honour Society dances), and an absolutely hysterical game where we sang "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" and had to stand up and sit down every time we sang a word beginning with the letter "B". Everyone was in stiches pretty quickly. We also did some singing along to "Do-Re-Mi" and a song the Happy Wanderer (which really cleverly you could substitute the words for any nursery rhyme, like Jack-and-Jill, and it still worked).

Lunch was quite good actually (schnitzel, wurst, and sauerkraut), and they gave us a new beer with every course. The girl next to me didn't like beer, and was drinking wine, so she gave me her beer. Which meant that by the time lunch was over, I'd had four beers. We then all retired upstairs to the bar, where gosh I was tipsy. At which point, somebody bought me another beer. Great!

I noticed pretty shortly after we'd gotten up there that I had somehow dropped my shawl, so I raced back downstairs to look for it. Once there, I found the Wild Welshman chatting to the banqueting coordinator, and they instantly asked me, "Are you looking for your shawl?" Ah yes, indeed, they'd already brought it to the front desk. Wonderful. To head back upstairs, the Wild Welshman gave me his arm to walk me up, which was very gentlemanly of him. The only trick was that I was wearing a floor-length skirt, and I had a beer stein in one hand, so when I took his arm with my other hand, I couldn't pick up my skirt to avoid tripping on it! I'm sure that women back in the 1800's knew how to deal with this, but as for me, I just kept tripping over the front of my skirt until we got to the top of the stairs. Luckily no accidents, so I wonder if he noticed. After all, it was such a sweet gesture, I didn't want to say no!

Back in the bar, I kept chatting with people, and just had a great time congratulating the Wild Welshman on an incredibly successful event. At around 5 PM (how on earth did two hours pass so quickly?) the Wild Welshman announced that he was rounding up the troops to head to a nearby pub for further drinking. Given that I had to meet my Irish Friend at the opera at 5:30, I really should have said no, but foolishly I agreed to go along. This was however after a humorous exchange with the Wild Welshman where I eventually swapped his beer for mine, giving him more to drink as I'd really had quite too much already. Gosh we were being flirty today, but we were also quite pissed...

I then walked with the Seb and a few others over to the second pub, where showing a serious lack of judgement, I let Seb buy me a half pint. I drank that while talking to Max and Seb, before suddenly realising that it was 5:25 and I said I'd meet my Irish Friend in the lobby of the opera house at 5:30. Oh dear.

So I said some quick good-byes (too much hugging of the Wild Welshman), and then raced down the street to the opera house, chewing gum the entire way in a desperate bid to cover up the alcohol fumes on my breath. Damn, why had I not kept better track of the time and of my alcohol consumption?

I arrived at the opera five minutes later, but quickly spotted my Irish Friend in the crowded lobby. If I'd been thinking, I would have taken a few seconds longer to run to the loo, but it should be obvious at this point that I was not doing a stellar job of thinking today.

So I greeted my Irish Friend, and then he asked me, "Do you like champagne?" Okay, two silly things about that question: 1) Who does NOT like champagne? Particularly Veuve Clicquot, which was what was on offer? 2) Did I really need MORE to drink at this point? So of course like an idiot, I said yes... My Irish Friend paid for the drinks (£26 for two glasses of champagne? Gasp!) and we enjoyed ourselves catching up and chatting before the bells rang telling us it was time to take our seats.

Upon finding our seats, I did gasp a bit nervously when I saw my Irish Friend take out the tickets (please tell me they were not actually £97 a piece, although I fear at this sold-out performance, as we were in the fourth row back, they may indeed have been), and then my Irish Friend insisted that I take the seat closer in towards the middle with the infinitesimal better view. I tried to protest, but the thing about dealing with my Irish Friend is that he is the consummate gentleman, with the most impeccable manners of any man I know. My chances of winning that argument were nil, so I just gave in.

My cousin asked me later why I don't date my Irish Friend, and I had to tell her that he's never made a move, and I'm not entirely sure what his sexual preference is. (He doesn't seem gay so much as...neutral). But I have to admit, his incredible manners and my slightly intoxicated state made me think I could easily be attracted to him. There's something about a well-mannered gentleman that is just so ATTRACTIVE. I swear, if any guy wants to seduce me, good manners seems to be the way to go.

I then spent the next two hours nearly sweating in agony as I cursed myself for not going to the loo before the performance started. I swear, my bladder was practically bursting by the intermission, and it took every ounce of self-control I had to not just race for the toilets the first chance I had. However, politely chatted to my Irish Friend who offered to fetch us ice cream (why on earth is that always the treat readily available at the opera?), and I made my way to the loo where in some bit of grace there was no line. I think I truly would have died otherwise.

While washing my hands, thankfully some woman pointed out to me that I had my skirt tucked into my pants, which would have been mortifying if I had left the loos like that! I was kind of embarrassed as it was, but grateful that somebody in this world was showing more sense than I was today.

I returned to my Irish Friend's side, enjoyed the ice cream (he gave me my choice, so of course I went for chocolate), and then we returned to our seats for the second half of the performance, which I enjoyed much more without a bursting bladder. I feel like I'd disappointed my Irish Friend a bit by not researching the opera in advance, but as I pointed out, sometimes it's fun to let the story unfold. But perhaps that is better with plays than with operas...

As we exited the opera, my Irish Friend got a call from some other mutual friends who were in town. So I picked an easy meeting spot, the base of Nelson's Column, and we walked there to wait for his friends. They joined us within about 20 minutes, and then I led them up to the Theatre District to find a place to grab a bite to eat, since we hadn't had any dinner before the opera. Found a "cheap and cheerful" chain cafe, ordered some pizza, and then we were joined by two more Irish friends. I was the only one at the table without a thick Irish accent, but as is great when dealing with Irish people, they were all super-friendly and made me feel quite at ease.

Just as I was finishing my chicken-and-pesto pizza (I had not realised how much I was starved!), I checked my phone, to see an e-mail from my cousin, saying that she'd gotten back to my flat, but couldn't get the keys to work. I was quite puzzled, as the Young Dutchman had been using those keys for weeks without any problems. How on earth could they not be working? So I told her to keep trying and if I didn't hear from her in 5 minutes, I would come home. Within minutes she e-mailed back saying it all wasn't working. Argh. I wish I could have just called her, but the phone was only working for e-mail, so I was forced to make my apologies and leave quite abruptly, which I felt was quite rude to my Irish friend who had been so lovely to me all evening. But if I were my cousin, I wouldn't want to remain locked out all evening waiting for me to come home...

So I raced to an ATM (I had no cash on me, after even leaving money for the bill in pound coins), got out money and then flagged a cab. It was a stupidly expensive trip, costing £23, and when I got home and raced up the stairs, I could see she was using the wrong key in the lock. So I JUST USED THE OTHER KEY and the door opened instantly. User error.

I was so pissed, as what kind of person, when they have two keys to open a lock, only tries one before concluding that the door won't open? And then sits there in the hallway for 40 minutes without trying the other key? Astonished doesn't even quite begin to convey my feeling that a person who is a senior-level VP at a company should know to try both keys before dragging me out of dinner and saddling me with a very expensive taxi trip. And so after going to so much effort to make sure the door was open for her, she managed to screw it up anyway... (On top of this, it also turns out that she'd borrowed two electrical converters from me, and then left them both in Paris. Isn't it sort of understood that when your borrow things, you're supposed to take care of them and return them?)

Anyway, let's try to be charitable here. She'd been running around Paris all day, had missed her train, and had also picked up a cold. So a bit of failure on the part of her brain to think clearly may have been allowable. I just wish it hadn't dragged me out of dinner early!

So I got her settled in the flat, where she then surprised me by wanting to stay up talking until 3 AM (only 2 AM thankfully due to British Summer Time ending), where I was just tripping over myself with exhaustion after the past few days. Got her packed off to the airport at 7 AM the next morning, where although I had been glad to see her, I was also somewhat happy to see her go before she cost me too much more in time and money!

Drinks with My Old Boss

My boss from my 2006 moved to Canada a few years ago, and left my company last June. She had just started a new job however, and was making a quick trip back to London to see old friends and catch up with people before getting really down to work.

In the morning, I was a bit disappointed to have to go into the office to meet my old boss for lunch, as it would have been a perfect Friday to just hang out with the Young Dutchman. As it was, he convinced me to sleep in and stick around for much too long, such that I barely made it into the office before noon. And when I left my flat, he was still there, getting a slow start to the day. Was definitely sorry to leave him behind!

But it was fun to have lunch with my old boss, who is only five years older than I am. It was good to just talk and catch up and hear about her new job, as well as catch her up on the comings and goings of people in the old job. The one unusual thing I found about her new job was that she now has to commute to the office every day. I guess I really do live in an alternate reality where that seems like an impossibly difficult requirement for a job to have...

After work, I again joined her and a few of her friends for drinks. After a debate about where to go, we actually went to a classic bar that is physically in the same building as the office, which while not a creative choice, proved to be an easy and cozy place to just sit with drinks as it rained outside.

I'd at some point thought I might leave and go to a party down in Brixton (i.e. stupidly far away) although perhaps I wasn't even supposed to go.. This guy I know was having a Halloween/birthday party and had invited ALL of our mutual friends, to the point that all this past week people had been saying to me, "I'll see you at Cain's on Friday!" Except the thing is, I'd never actually been invited. I'm sure it was just an oversight (with a party that big, you're bound to miss one or two names) but one of the biggest faux pas in life I can ever imagine is showing up to a party that you weren't invited to. I've actually had that problem in the past with people who don't understand to beg an invitation is exceptionally poor manners. Hence I never like to go anywhere unless I've been formally invited. So although I didn't mention the lack of invite to anyone, it was really unlikely that I would have attended, even if I'd been free.

Plus, I didn't even have a costume, and after all of the activity of the past week, I was absolutely exhausted. No way was I really up for a party, when it just seemed easier to spend time with some overall pleasant company (even if it was more my boss' friends than anybody I knew).

Interestingly one of the guys in the group was someone I knew my boss had an long-running flirtation going on with, even while he was married. He showed up for drinks no longer wearing his wedding ring, as apparently he and his wife had filed for divorce six months earlier, putting the entire length of their marriage at 2.5 years. It was an interesting discussion, as I can't believe that at 37, this guy is already married and divorced, saying that he jinxed it by asking his groomsmen, "So what's the spread on how long this will last?" in the moments before the wedding began. He did say that he wanted to have kids soon however, which makes me think that guys in their 30's have biological clocks, same as women...

At around 10 PM we realised that we couldn't get any food in the bar we were at, so we walked to another bar, where we got a sampling of bar snacks and another round, and just kept telling more and more funny stories. Finally the bar kicked us out when they closed at 11, meaning that my "early night", and "just one drink after work" was all for naught...

Halloween Moveable Feast

Dinner tonight was a "Halloween Moveable Feast", where everyone was supposed to bring carved pumpkins, and it followed the usual format where men move around the table after each course.

The evening started with drinks, where I found myself talking to Henri, (pronounce it the French way, of "On-ree"), a sophisticated Dutch guy I know. And as we were talking, I got the surprise of my life when into the reception walked the Young Dutchman. I think my jaw just dropped and then I just wiggled my tail with delight at seeing him so unexpectedly, when I assumed he would be in Oxford. Turns out that he was down to meet a guy from the charity he works with, and at the last minute they decided to go to dinner at the Lansdowne (although not the dinner we were going to be at). Yet he gave a few kisses, and then promised he would see us all after the meal.

For the first course I was seated in-between two South Africans, one who was nice and sweet but a bit dull, the other who I had met before but had forgotten about it. Although we reconnected, and actually had a fascinating conversation about what it had actually been like to live there when Mandela took over, and particular the events surrounding the movie "Invictus", which he remembered very well. I remember when we first met, he'd liked me, and did again this evening, but I think sort of remembering how we'd parted on an off-footing the last time.

Second course, I ended up next to Henri, and a nice quintessentially British guy named James. Henri is always good fun, and the guy James was nice enough, although conversation was more pleasant than intriguing on the whole.

Third course, I sat next to a guy I know named Will, who is certainly very nice (when I went out on Wednesday, the girl I brought along saw us chatting and swears he has a crush on me), and an English chap named Neil who unfortunately may have been battling a cold, and so my entire impression of him is summed up by the phrase, "sniveling." Not exactly good banter.

Final course I got chatting to a guy Sam who is a mutual friend of some other friends of mine. And he seemed quite nice, although I found myself dreading the moment when we needed to stand up from the table. At which point, I don't know how I'd know to expect it, but he was a good six inches shorter than I am. Not like one should ever judge a guy on something he has absolutely no control over, but the male ego is a fragile thing, and the height issue makes things...harder.

I retired to the bar with everyone else after dinner, where I spent some time chatting to the crowds, and the South African (who got a bit too drunk, which is never a good look on anyone, but still must like me as he kept giving me high-fives every time he walked past me). The Young Dutchman returned to the bar after his dinner, and while I didn't chat to him too much, he would always catch my eye across the room to give me a wink and make sure I wasn't too bored. We finally paused to chat at the very end of the evening as the bar was closing, at which point the bartender, Yannick, came up and gave me a glass of champagne, winking at the Young Dutchman and telling me, "A glass of champagne for you. I put it on Mr. ____'s account", which made us both laugh. Yannick always knows that the Young Dutchman is supposed to get drinks for me!

It was then at the very end of the evening that I found myself introduced to a stunningly good-looking and incredibly witty British guy from Windsor. It was hilarious, because we had introduced ourselves and he was just making polite conversation until I said something terribly clever, at which point he straightened up and introduced himself all over again, with the reasoning, "I need to pay attention now, as I get the feeling that you're my kind of girl." And I really just enjoyed the constant banter back-and-forth, as he really was incredibly quick-witted and amusing. (Thank goodness one of my few talents in life is that I seem blessed with a quick wit and never run out of clever things to say. So no matter what this guy came up with, I always seemed to have a good rejoinder, which made him enjoy the banter with me too). Although that equally made me slightly suspect, for a good-looking clever guy is probably a bit too used to having an easy time with the ladies. So I made sure never to be fawning, even as he continued to chat with me even after the bar closed. About which he noted, "I don't think I've ever stood at a bar for so long without being served, or without even any hope of being served. But present company makes me not want to move..." Yet, he was a bit too slick, a bit too glib. I really liked him, but I was suspicious.

At the end of the evening, I think he'd assumed he would leave with me, or would get my info as we were leaving the club, which was a massive group of people all slowly morphing towards the door. Yet I was absolutely exhausted and dead on my feet at this point and wanted to go home. I told the Young Dutchman that I was ready to leave, turns out he was exhausted too. He apparently had lined up somewhere else to stay in London, not wanting to impose on me, but I always like having him around, and he prefers to stay with me too. So it just went without saying that we would head home together. Perhaps that also surprised the boy, when after not talking to the Young Dutchman all evening, I left with him? The incredibly witty boy is a new member of the Lansdowne, so perhaps I shall see him again before too long. And then we shall see.

I at first led the Young Dutchman out to the stop for the number 9 bus, but upon realising that I had flats in my bag and could walk some distance, the Young Dutchman insisted that we go to Regent Street and catch the number 94 bus directly back to SheBu. It quite a walk, and as we walked along he kept holding my hand as we walked and putting a protective arm around me, where he's not normally so physically affectionate with me. Who knows, it was late, and we were tired, but it was sweet. Indeed, once we got on the bus (after waiting 20 minutes, I doubt the efficiency of his plan!), I pretty much immediately just snuggled in and fell asleep on his shoulder. And I slept quite peacefully on him until he woke me up sometime later, telling me it was our stop and time to get off and go home.

When we got home, the Young Dutchman and I engaged in an absolute race to see who could get into bed first. Since I still had the air mattress set up from my cousin staying with me, the Young Dutchman had an advantage, but I was determined to get myself flat as quickly as possible. In the end he beat me into bed, but only just!

Finding a Boy for Caroline

Tonight was the last Wednesday of the Month drinks at the club, for which there had been a good response on the invite so far, and I had high hopes of a good turnout. Additionally, my friend Caroline had been complaining that she wasn't meeting enough tall, single men, so I invited her to come along in case she might meet some.

Since I was officially the "host" of the evening, I arrived at the O&C right at 6:30 PM, and immediately ran into the Wild Welshman just as I was coming up the stairs, which gave me a big smile as he enthusiastically greeted me. He said he would join me in a moment once he'd hung up his coat, so I went to the bar and got him a pint along with my own drink. When he arrived to find his drink ready and waiting, he gave me a big smile and a kiss.

We sat down to chat, at which point he told me that he'll be off to Berlin in March for six months. I was incredibly thrilled for him, and while I will miss him, am sure that he will visit and perhaps I will visit him, and six months will pass in a flash. It will be a great experience and Berlin is a fantastic city, he is sure to have an excellent time there.

As we were sitting at a table in the bar, we found ourselves joined by TK (whose company I always enjoy) and his friend John, as they had just finished playing a game of squash. An older guy from the General Committee joined us, along with a woman named Nicola who also seemed to be about his age (which he revealled to be 39). So you can imagine my surprise when that revealtion prompted people to go around the table revealling ages, and she claimed to be 32. I was shocked, and desperately hope I don't look that old...

More and more people started arriving, until there were too many of us for the chairs available in the bar. So I moved the crowds to the Upper Drawing Room, but made sure to keep returning to the bar to check for stragglers. It was on one of these return trips that Caroline arrived, so I was able to take her with me on my next return to the Upper Drawing Room and introduce her to a few people. She seemed to hit it off well with Kerty, a chap I know through Doro, and so I left them to chatting.

The Wild Welshman had departed a bit earlier to have a quick drink with a friend nearby who was going out to the theatre, and he now returned with a bottle of wine in hand to top off my glass. He'd apparently gotten a bottle because he assumed we'd share it with TK and his friend John, but they had disappeared. Which is then how the two of us ended up just chatting together all evening, splitting the bottle of wine and getting ourselves into quite a state. Even without the attraction between us anymore, I really like him as a friend, as he's always my favourite to talk to.

The Upper Drawing Room emptied out as some people decided to go for dinner, so those of us who remained retired back to the bar. As I was chatting to the Wild Welshman, Doro passed me a note, saying, "K wants to know C's relationship status". Which I then incredibly foolishly read aloud, as Doro shushed me. Whoops! As I said, I blame the Wild Welshman and his bottle of wine... But at least I was pleased to be able to report that Caroline was indeed quite single, as it had indeed been the purpose of this evening. So at least that was working out!

Finally as it got to about 9:30, people were heading out, so I suggested that Caroline and I head to the Cally, as they were also having Younger Member's drinks there that evening. I invited everyone else with us, and while you could tell that Kerty hadn't planned on going, he didn't want to leave Caroline. Alas, he'd already borrowed a tie from the front desk, so he didn't have a tie to go to the Cally with. Yet another friend in the group, Southworth, recognized what was going on here, and loaned Kerty his tie. So Kerty tied it on, I hailed a cab, and off we went.

When we got to the Cally, I led the group into the bar, where I was immediately greeted by the Young Scotsman, who wrapped me up into a very enthusiastic hug and kiss. I adore that boy for the way he so obviously adores me! He asked where the Wild Welshman was, and I had to confess that I hadn't been able to drag him out. When I relayed this info to the Wild Welshman the next morning, he promised he would come with me the next time!

There were quite a few familiar faces, including Piers, Will, and the Head of Inter-Club. I just got myself into the usual conversations, trying to ignore the fact that my feet were starting to hurt (the helpful effects of the wine wearing off), and I was quite tired. I kept hoping that the conversations would get more interesting, or that I'd at least get more of a chance to bask in the adoring company of the Young Scotsman. In the end, I suppose I was enjoying the company enough, as Caroline and Kerty made their apologies and left at midnight, while I stayed on until we all had to leave at 1 AM. The boys put me into a cab, and £17 later the cab driver dropped me off on Holland Road (NOT where I live) because he didn't know where to go. I got out anyway, rather than have him drive around and hike up the cab fare. It was only a few more blocks back to my place, and the cab trip had been mercy for my aching feet. Definitely bringing flats next time!

That would normally be the end of the evening (as it was now 1:30 AM), but when I signed online to quickly check my e-mail, I saw that my friend Shelley was online, so I called her to chat, and we ended up talking for 1.5 hours. I could tell that she's a bit frustrated with my dating life, as there are obviously so many boys out there who are attracted to me, but I just don't know what I want. I want to settle down in theory, but definitely not in practice. I told her that I was on the "Mariah Carey plan", where you get married suddenly and have babies at the last minute. I could tell that horrified her a bit, but also made her laugh. I guess we'll just have to see how it all works out. But she repeatedly said, "I can't believe that you, who would make a better mother than anybody I know, is single and childless while I'm the one who is married with a kid." I can understand where she's coming from, but I'm not quite sure what to tell her. I know my single status is somewhat my own fault, as I just can't quite give up all of this running around quite yet...

In the end, it was lovely to talk to her, but it wreaked havoc on my bedtime. Finally in bed at 4 AM!

Temple Run

I went into the office to meet with my career counselor today, where I found out that I had been rated as "Above" for the past year. It was almost disappointing after being rated "Significantly Above" for the past two years, but I need to remind myself that I'm a level up and started a new job that I know nothing about with a boss on maternity leave for most of the year. Most people would have struggled to hang onto their jobs in such a situation, and here I'm still getting top ratings without really doing any work. Although even my career counselor was apologising for my "low" rating, saying that it had been due to my small comparison group more than anything else, I'd been caught up in a technical glitch. Apparently I'd been rated the top person in my group, and they'd given me the highest rating they could. Which perversely made me glad I hadn't worked any harder over the course of the year, given that my top rating was capped anyway. I sometimes wonder if my company recognises the way they incentivise people.

The real reason for coming into the office was a community meeting, and then after that they cleared out all of the chairs and had a Zumba class in the conference room. It was a bit awkward, as we would be dancing and suddenly the music would cut out. But no more awkward than a bunch of middle-aged executives dancing around a conference room to a Zumba class.

I dashed out about 15 minutes early because the endless pauses were becoming annoying, and to get to the hash. I had over-estimated how long it would take me to get there, as once I arrived I found that only one other person was there. However before long others started arriving, and B turned out to be there!

I hadn't seen B since watching the England vs Scotland game, before he and his girlfriend went to Australia. So it was good to see him and catch up with him again (even if he did make fun of my slow pace on the run).

We ran by the "Occupy London Stock Exchange" protesters out in front of St. Paul's, which was kind of neat to see something we had heard so much about on the news. The second half of the run became suddenly miserable however, when out of nowhere the skies absolutely opened up into a torrential downpour with not even a few seconds warning.

I ran until I found an overhand to huddle for shelter under, figuring I would stay there until the rain passed. (With a shower like that, you were sure it couldn't last long). As I huddled under my little shelter, I spotted two other hashers huddled across the street, and they were pointing over at me and gesturing. I couldn't quite figure out what they were on about, until they suddenly dashed across the street and into the doorway next to me. I'd been standing next to a pub!

So I dashed in as well, and it turned out that one of the chaps had been smart enough to go running with a tenner on him. So he bought us all half-pints, and we spent some time in the pub, drinking up and waiting out the rain.

Finally we decided to head back to the pub, where along the way I got a text from B that he'd lost the group and so decided to go home. I ran into a few guys on their way back as well, and we took a shortcut through Somerset House, but other than that, it was just a straight shot back to the pub.

At that point, there was nobody really there that I knew or felt like chatting to, so after the circle, when Lucia said she was leaving, I decided to head home with her. Early departure from the hash, but one can't stay late every night!

The All-Blacks At Last

Amazingly, due to my late-night walk and burger stop, my head was clear in the morning, and I got up in time to head over to east London to watch the rugby final being held in New Zealand. It was the legendary All-Blacks, who have never won (despite being the best team in the world, they always choke in the final), versus France. I was cheering for the All-Blacks, as they were playing on home turf, and I just felt like they finally deserved it.

When I arrived at the flat where we were supposed to be gathering to watch the game, it was just Lex and Rob, the guy who owned the flat. Rob had made us some bacon and sausages for breakfast, so we tucked in while watching the first part of the game. How nice of him!

A bit later on in the game Princess arrived, and when he came over to greet me, I was so distracted by the game that I just went to give him a peck on the cheek. But Princess and I always kiss each other on the lips (no idea why, it's just one of those things we do), and so it was kind of weird how he hit me slightly off on the lips due to my inattention. Ooops, I wonder if he thinks I was trying to send him some message? Probably, because then later when we were parting on the train, I went to kiss him on the lips (as per usual) but this time he turned! Still, got it mostly right this time!

It's funny though, because as I left him and Lex, I noticed that I'd barely remembered my peck on the cheek and hug with Lex, while my kiss with Princess lingered. Why is that, how kisses on the lips are so much more...intense, somehow? Perhaps why Princess and I do that.

Anyway, the game was surprisingly tense, with the score being tight the entire game, not many points scored, and the All-Blacks winning by only one point. However they won in the end, so I was glad for it.

After the game, I went out to ASDA to do some shopping, not thinking about the fact that I didn't have any bags with me. It made getting home a struggle, and I wonder in retrospect if I should have gone home first to get bags, but then I worry that I never would have left my flat again if I'd gone back to it.

In the evening, I did something I'd long been telling myself I would do, and went to church service at the church that is around the corner from me. It was weird though, as although officially a CoE service, it seemed VERY Catholic (complete with Hail Marys), which made me rather uncomfortable. I declined to go to communion, and I rather wonder if I shall ever go back.

But all in all, a good Sunday to round out the weekend...

Drinks with the Girls

In the morning, the Young Dutchman and I got off to a slow start, just lying in the rays of sunshine that were streaming in through the window. We pretended to be cats, sleeping in the sunshine, talking, and seeing who we could convince to shower first. Finally it fell on me, so since it was nearly noon, I figured I would be the first to get going.

I got out of the shower to find him on the phone with some mutual friends of ours, who we were apparently going to join for brunch. (Or it turned out to just be lunch, since it was 1 PM by the time we got there!) I then found I'd missed a 10 AM text from the Radiologist, asking if I was free for breakfast. Ooops! Still, managed to get her on the phone to apologize, and was grateful at least that I'd seen her the night before!

Once we got ourselves sorted, we made it to the restaurant for lunch (a half-hour late), and had a very nice lunch with the mutual friend. She pestered me to get back to playing squash with her boyfriend, as apparently he's been looking quite tubby as of late. To be honest, I could use the exercise too, so I promised I would indeed drag him out on the courts.

After lunch, the Young Dutchman had to go back to the Lansdowne to pick up his keys, as he'd lost them in a couch there last night. (I raised an eyebrow at that one, as it takes a fair bit of exertion I'd think, to lose your keys out of your pocket while just sitting on a couch. But I didn't comment...) He wanted us all to go for a bike ride through Hyde Park to the Lansdowne, but I'm terrified of cycling in London, even on Boris Bikes. I figured that particularly, my first experience of biking in a long time should not be on a busy London street. So with many hugs, I wished the two of them off, and went back to mine, which somehow seemed just a bit sadder and emptier with him gone.

So I was glad when my friend Cookie texted to say she was at loose ends, so perhaps did I want to meet up for a drink? We settled on 8:30 PM in Clapham Junction, where hopefully our friend Sweedy would be joining us too.

Figuring that it was only a night out with the girls, I dressed down a bit, but after seeing Cookie looking stunning in a black dress, realised that I'd made a mis-step. Even though it was only drinks out with the girls, it WAS drinks out in Clapham, after all...

We settled on a chic little cocktail bar as our first stop of the evening, where we got some fancy-pants cocktails (only in London can £8 seem like a reasonable price for a drink), and sat around low tables catching up with each other while we waited for Sweedy to join us.

At around 11 PM as the first bar started to turn into a nightclub (bouncers showed up and the music got louder), we abandon our spot to head for somewhere hopefully quieter. We found another bar that was still rather noisy and crowded, but at least slightly less so.

In the end, we consumed three bottles of wine between the three of us, and had a very funny conversation about the awkward situations we've found ourselves in when there's no man around to realise it's his job to pour the wine. Funny how proper wine-pouring etiquette plays such an important role in our lives!

I adore Cookie's fiancée for this reason, as he's a military guy who never let's a girl be without a full wine glass. The funniest part of the evening came when this guy approached the three of us and started hitting on Cookie, the one of us who was engaged. She kept trying to flash her ring at him, but he just wasn't picking up on it, so finally she had to politely turn him down and point out the ring to this oblivious guy. We had quite a laugh at that, pointed out his error, and then Cookie said she might tell her fiancee that men were still hitting in her in bars...

It was a good night, even if the crowd around us seemed a bit young, and the music too loud. It was just such fun to have a night out with only the girls for once... Unfortunately, it had been so much fun that when we got kicked out of the bar at 12:30 AM, I had well and truly missed my last train that had gone at 11:30. Hence, three nightbuses were required to get me back to where I should be. In Hammersmith, I stopped and grabbed a burger from McDonald's, and then snapped a photo of the fit guy in a kilt standing in the McDonald's. Only in London does that seem like a normal sight!

Finally got sick of waiting for the last bus to get me the end of the way home, and so just walked the last 20 minutes of the journey home. Probably between the burgers and the walk, it was a good thing, as it saved my head from the inevitable hangover that bottle of wine would have produced!

Lansdowne Reunion

This evening I had a choice about whether to go to the Trafalgar Night dinner at the Army and Navy Club, or just going to the Lansdowne Club for the usual Friday night drinks. At the last minute I decided to skip the Trafalgar Night dinner, and just go to the Lansdowne, and I'm so glad I did...

I ran into my friend Stephanie on the street, as she was walking to the Army & Navy Club, while I was headed in the opposite direction. We stopped to chat for a bit, and I got the feeling she would have stayed and talked for quite some time, before I shooed her off to her dinner so she wouldn't be late.

When I got to the Lansdowne, I almost worried that I wouldn't know anybody there, but as soon as I walked into the bar, I spotted my friends Arleen and the Classic Tory Boy. I chatted to them for a while, and soon other people started arriving, including my friend SM, who I hadn't seen in a while. She greeted me enthusiastically, asking where I'd been, saying she had been starting to worry that I was avoiding her. Me? I assured her certainly not, and then wondered where on earth I HAD been, as so many people seemed to be treating me as though I'd been abroad for months. Who knew I hadn't been around?

After a bit, the Young Dutchman arrived with two friends he'd brought along from the Carlton Club. He'd told me that he planned on being in town to catch up with a few folks, so I knew I'd be seeing him here, yet it was still so exciting to see him. How long had we been apart? I've just gotten used to having him around.

So everyone excitedly greeted him, and I left him free to make the rounds, until I was the last one to say hello to him. He wrapped me up in a big hug, and I was sooooo happy to see him, I had not realised how much I had missed him until right then.

I then found myself caught up in conversation with the two men he'd brought with him from the Carlton Club. There was the Slightly Pompous Lawyer (who the Young Dutchman seems to think I should fancy, but alas I don't), and the Mysterious American. I can't quite remember his name (was it Mike? Matt?), but I think we'll go with the Mysterious American for now. We got to talking, and I learned he was born in South Carolina, but grew up in Miami. We bonded quite a bit about speaking Spanish and how Miami is. He then went to undergrad in Moscow, but did his graduate degree in Russian at the Humbolt Universitaet in Berlin. We got to chatting in German, and thankfully my German seemed to keep up with his, but I used the excuse of Neil being there to switch back into English. Turned out that Neil was able to follow a lot of the conversation anyway, but didn't speak German the way this guy and I did. I never found out what the Mysterious American did, but it sounded like he was actually just bumming around in London on his parents dime for a while. Although he'd been here nearly a year. Independently wealthy or army brat? I couldn't decide, but his stories of sailing off to the Bahamas for Christmas when he was a kid made me think it was the former. He seemed to have a lust for travel to unusual and risky places that only the well-off really have. I have to say I was intrigued.

Of course it didn't hurt either that he was so obviously hitting on me, standing way too close to me, leaning in, touching me... Only thing he wasn't doing was buying me drinks, but that was because weirdly he seemed to be managing to make the Pompous Lawyer do that, who didn't seem to realise what was going on with me and the Mysterious American. I have to say that although there was nothing long-term there (we got into an argument about the UK way of life vs the US, with him still coming down in favour of the US), but upon considering it, I realised that he would be perfect for some fun. Cute, and with just enough forwardness that you knew this guy would be an excellent playmate.

Alas, before anything really interesting could develop, my friend Marjanne arrived. Marjanne had been living in Melbourne since last July, and was now living in Vancouver, where she won't return from for another six months. She had called me out of the blue this afternoon to say that she was in London for a last-minute job interview, and was hoping I could meet up for drinks later on in the evening after she'd gone to a networking interview first.

Unfortunately, when I told her to stop by the Lansdowne, it never even occurred to me to tell her the dress code, so when she showed up in jeans, we were politely asked to retire downstairs to the Aqua Bar by the gym. So I had to abandon the Mysterious American without explanation, and whisk her downstairs. Although annoying to have to leave everyone, it did at least make me focus on her and her stories, as she told me about her lackluster dating life, but her old friend Hadley who she had been spending time with in Melbourne. Apparently despite him having her perfect sense of humour and being incredibly devoted to her, she'd always never considered him as a romantic possibility because he was about 2 inches shorter than she was. (And she's nearly six feet tall, the guy is probably not really short). I ended up telling her the story of my cousin's ex-girlfriend who started dating her best friend after years of saying she wasn't attracted to him (and to be fair, he was seriously overweight). Except one night she got a bit tipsy and kissed him and then decided to go for it, discovered he was the best boyfriend of all time, and now they're getting married. And so from that, Marjanne agreed to give Hadley a chance. I sometimes wonder if there's a boy in my life already like that, who I just never think of that way...

At around 10 PM, Marjanne decided to head home (I hope she didn't pick up on my impatience to return to everyone else), so I returned upstairs to find that the Mysterious American had gone, but my friend Sophie was there, who shrieked with delight to see me, as I did her. Being with Sophie often feels like the coolest girl in school has suddenly decided to become my best friend. So I was thrilled to see her, and even more thrilled that she was just as glad to see me.

I also ended up chatting with both SM and Curious George, and noted that while Curious George has always liked me, this evening he was really being overly friendly. The effects of too much wine, I suppose... I was also surprised when at one point the Pompous Lawyer pulled me aside and told me that he'd heard a certain Norwegian talking about what he'd gotten up to with me. At first I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, as the only Norwegian I'd had any dealings with lately was the guy I randomly spoke to one evening after the Port Tasting, who I barely even kissed. So what on earth was he talking about?

A bit more discussion revealed that the Pompous Lawyer was indeed talking about that same Norwegian, who claimed to have "totally scored" with me. WTF? Where on earth does this guy get off? Talk about creative license... So it made me incredibly irritated, that here I thought I'd been so good to not go too far, not mess around with anybody known to my social crowd, and just be so careful to keep my nose clean, and here my reputation was getting slandered anyway. At least the Pompous Lawyer was gracious enough to say he didn't believe any of it and was telling me because he was sure I'd be outraged, which was good to know, but it was irritating all the same. Can't a girl have a little fun without becoming the subject of gossip? Apparently not.

Sophie and a few others then grabbed me to go dancing on the dance floor, as some charity event was going on. However we were pretty quickly kicked back off the dance floor, as we hadn't bought tickets to the event. Who knew charity events were so uncharitable?

I did find myself chatting to some guy (Marcus, I think his name was?) who from my accent thought I was Irish. He seems cute, and he made me laugh with his comparison of me an Irish lass.

Then I got to chatting with some South African guy who I think was hitting on my friend Lotte, but I couldn't be sure... When the bar closed at midnight, the group wanted to continue the party at Lotte's, and so they all bought some wine to head there. The Young Dutchman was exhausted however, and whispered in my ear to ask if he could go home with me. So we all made our way out of the club, trying to get people into cabs and cars, trying to subtly deal with the problem of the Pompous Lawyer. As nobody really wanted the Pompous Lawyer to come along with them, but he kept hanging around, waiting for...I don't know what. Perhaps to get me alone? (He was ridiculously drunk and kept hitting on me, not picking up on my subtle evasions). The Young Dutchman claimed he felt responsible for the Pompous Lawyer, who was totally out of it, but there wasn't much we could do other than to hope that he would eventually get himself into a cab.

Which he finally did, so the the Young Dutchman and I then went off and grabbed a night bus back to my place. I told him the story of the Norwegian and my outrage, which really just made the Young Dutchman laugh. As I hadn't been planning on having company, my place was an absolute mess when we got home, but we got ourselves sorted and got the bed set up for him. Although unexpected, I was so glad he came home with me, as it gave us a chance to finally catch up.

Trying to explain my relationship with the Young Dutchman is so impossible, I wonder if I should just give up trying. Because there isn't really a sexual attraction there, as we are wise enough to focus our attentions on more age-appropriate people. (He was telling me about the 18-year old he's been involved with, who showed up this evening. And he's torn, because he's attracted to her, but she's only 18. They did slip away for a while in the evening, which I think is telling about the ongoing relationship of sorts. Yet, he doesn't want to get involved with her at all, both due to her age and the fact that he's in Oxford now).

Yet it just made me HAPPY to have him around. It's like having this giant ball of warm fuzzies that just emanates from him, and I just feel better when he's near me. I guess I should take this as some great lesson about love, how when it really works, it's not about impressing somebody or being nervous around them in the hopes that they like you. Instead, it's just a warm ball of happiness, where you can't help but feel good when you're around them. Now can I please have this with a guy I'm sleeping with please?

We set up our beds, fell into them, and then went back to our usual way of talking as we fall asleep, with him making me laugh so hard my sides hurt. He was exhausted, so I let the conversation drop off early, but just happy to have him nearby again...

Calls From Everyone

Just another evening at home... I had an invite to go out to some random get-together of people for drinks, but after staying up until 4 AM last night working, I was just feeling too tired to do much. So instead I figured it would be a good evening to catch up with my folks.

In the middle of that phone call, I was delighted to get a call from the Young Dutchman. Damn if I do not miss that boy... He asked me about all that was new with me, and I had to admit there was startlingly little to say. Work is going well (apparently I was rated the top person in my rating group, although I'll find out what that means in terms of salary on Tuesday), the social life is humming along, and there are no real big scandals or news to report. I felt bad for not being more entertaining (I could tell he'd hoped for a bit more from me), but it was just really good to hear from him. I'm trying so hard to sit back and let him make friends in Oxford and establish his own life there, but doesn't mean I don't miss him...

Then, just as I'd thought I'd done enough talking for the evening, got a great surprise when my phone rang and it was Joel. He was on a train home from Cambridge, and just wanted to talk a bit about his relationship woes... Of course, "talk" with Joel means "let me guess wildly and try to develop ESP." I guess this is why Joel likes me however, because I just have the easiest mind-meld with him. He doesn't really need to talk, I already know.

And the issue is that the girl he's seeing is perfectly nice, and there's no real reason to break up with her, but still he wants out. And yet he works with her, so a clean break isn't really possible. And of course, this related to larger issues like, "How is life all supposed to turn out? What happens next?" I can understand why Joel thinks I'm so wise and have all the answers, because I have the advantage of an outside perspective on his problems. But the truth is, I don't know the answers any more than he does...

It seems to have been an evening for conversations however, as at midnight I managed to catch my friend Nikola in Australia online. And it turns out that he's having somewhat of an existential crisis as well, brought on in part by the death of Steve Jobs. He's trying to figure out what he wants to do in life, realising that perhaps academia isn't quite it.

And we talked about how the trauma of our generation is the idea of closing doors. That we have so many opportunities available to us, that we become reluctant to settle on any one person, any one job, or any one thing, for fear of losing out on those other opportunities. However, we realise that to move on in life, we have to close doors in order to open others. For instance, you will never experience the joy of having children and a family unless you pick one person to do that with. So you have to close off the options of dating other people and perhaps finding someone else, unless you choose that one person to move forward with. It's like choosing a major at college, but only even more so. You have to choose your subject, and close off the idea of other subjects to focus on this one that you are going to learn ever more intensively.

Finally at 2 AM I dropped off into bed, glad to have caught up with everyone but quite tired in the end!

Chalk Farm Run

The weather is finally getting colder, so I made my way out to Chalk Farm for this week's run with gloves and a long-sleeved shirt.

I arrived and saw DD, as he'd promised he would be there, but didn't really chat to him at all, although he always seems a bit distracted when his ex is around. They've stayed friendly, but I can imagine it's still a bit of a puzzle. I just ended up chatting with all of the other people who happened to be standing around. Went out for the run, and actually managed to keep pace with the group reasonably well, but when an opportunity arrived at Camden Town to turn up the road and just run straight back to the pub, I took it. I'd been out for an hour and had gotten my exercise, so I wanted to go back to the nice warm pub!

I got an extra treat when I arrived back at the pub, to find that Matt was there! I absolutely was wiggling with excitement, I was so happy to see him. I hadn't seen him since shortly after he started his new job, so it was good to hear about how it was all going, and how he and his girlfriend were thinking about moving towards my end of town. How great would that be?

Bum Bandit caught me at the bar and gave me £10 to buy a round while he went and grabbed his bag, but I was unable to get the attention of the bar staff before he returned. He bought my Guinness for me anyway, and although we didn't chat too much throughout the evening, I thought it was sweet how he always sees me as somebody he needs to watch out for.

I actually spent most of the evening chatting to Lex, who pointed out we hadn't just caught up the two of us in quite a while. There was a little bookshelf where we both managed to squeeze in, and so we sat side-by-side and just talked about the most random crap, a usual Lex conversation. When he got up to go get another round for the two of us, I saw DD walking by me, so I made some comment, and so DD squeezed himself into the tiny bookshelf with me. His ex was gone, so now he felt like paying attention to me.. I find DD so peculiar, because it's like being back in elementary school where boys who liked you would pull your pigtails and chase you around on the playground. I think his actual feelings towards me are similarly conflicted, like those of 10-year old boys ("Girls are gross!" "But weirdly fascinating..."). He likes me, as I can't turn around without finding him there, or squeezing in to sit close with me on a tiny bookshelf. Yet, he also has some issue with me, which I can't quite put my finger on. He's almost insulting when he talks to me, as much as he always obviously wants to talk to me...

We were then joined by Caroline on a chair with us, and the conversation turned to "bad date stories". DD told this absolutely hilarious one about a double-date he went on with his cousin when he was 16. They went to some run-down seaside town on a Sunday where nothing was open, except for a tattoo parlour, where the girl who was there as the "plus one" for his cousin decided to get her tongue pierced as the first thing to start the day. So of course it swelled up and she couldn't talk all day, and it pretty much set the dynamic for the date from there. Apparently the girl that DD liked then also preferred his cousin, and the story ended up with his cousin going back and sleeping with this girl on another occasion and getting chlamydia from her. So a great story, all around!

Caroline told some absolutely hysterically funny stories about accidentally distributed sex tapes (OMG, made me glad I've never made one!), and of course me...well you know I don't suffer for a lack of "bad date" stories!

It was funny because at one point the three of us then were remarking on the fact that we are all single, which Caroline blamed on being tall (she's about six feet), DD on his attitude, and then DD said the sweetest thing when he told me, "But you! How are you single? I mean, look at you!" As I said, he likes me....somewhat. Although was kind of intrigued that he thought my best feature was my looks, not my personality or intelligence I'd never really thought of that as my best selling point...

Finally, when it was nearly 11:30 and they were closing the bar, we all headed out to grab the Tube. I ended up sitting with DD on both trains, where we got back into the insults ("You live a very sheltered life..."), but where you could tell that he was intrigued by a comment I'd made earlier where I insisted to him, "Despite it all, I DO like you, you know..."

"Really?" he replied in absolute disbelief. "Why?"

Some days I wonder... I don't think anything will ever happen there, because quite frankly he'd make a rotten boyfriend ("It's just my personality", he explained to me), but he still makes me laugh, and is always good for a smile every time I see him. And you've got to enjoy having a boy like that around...

Caroline and Flo's Birthday

After my late bedtime last night, it was nearly 1 PM before I managed to drag myself out of bed this morning (afternoon?), at which point I realised I needed to come up with a costume for the party I was going to this evening. It was two friends from running, Caroline and Flo, who were having a joint birthday party, and as such the theme was for everyone to come dressed as something beginning with "C" or "F".

I figured if I made a quick stop at Poundland, perhaps I could find some cat ears, which would give me a "C" costume. However, when I got to Poundland, I saw in the children's section, along with lots of ballerina skirts that were way too small for me, they had fairy wings! So for a pound, I figured that was a good deal. Went to Primark and got myself a pretty flower headband, and figured that if I did my hair in curls, I'd look very "fairy-like". No wand, but I wasn't going to spend even more money on a costume...

Got home, got changed, and made my way out to the bar where we were meeting, which was all of the way in Shoreditch (i.e. an hour's journey for me). When I arrived, I was horrified to discover that I was only the second person there and the only one in costume. Luckily I was there for only about 15 minutes before the rest of the crowds showed up, with the birthday girl dressed as Cleopatra, and the birthday boy as a Frenchman (complete with garlic necklace), which kind of seemed redundant since he is already French. There were cats, another Frenchman (this time with an onion necklace that smelled everywhere he went), cowgirls, Centurions, a commando, cops, a guy who came as Jesus Christ (I wondered if that were somehow politically incorrect), flappers, an Air Force captain, and a guy who came as a Christmas tree. Eventually this led to one of the best lines of the night when a random guy in the bar was overheard saying, "I must be on drugs. I swear I just saw Jesus talking to a Christmas tree." Hilarious.

The drinks in the bar were somewhat expensive (£8 for a double G&T? £4.50 for a bottle of beer?), but luckily quite a few guys watched out for me so my pocketbook was spared. Nice how I've come to depend upon that. Although in honesty, I was still so tired from the night before, I was just trying to avoid drinking too much, hoping that dancing would get me energized as it had the night before.

Yet, the music this time around just wasn't quite as good as it had been in the previous nightclub, so it was harder to dance to. It felt more like a "decades of dance" evening, with everything from ABBA to Will Smith's "Getting Jiggy Wid It" coming up on the playlist. Plus, my costume wasn't working out as well as I'd hoped, and I was feeling a teeny bit self-concious that both the birthday girl and another friend had gone for midriff-bearing costumes. No way would I ever bare my tummy in public like that!

I tried to amuse myself by talking to some of the birthday girl's friends, and she introduced me to this one guy who seemed really sweet and nice, but....no decent chat. And this is the thing that frustrates me about my life, is I meet tons of really nice, decent guys like this, but they just don't hold my interest. I wonder at times if I'm doomed to be single just because I can't meet guys who don't bore me to death in minutes.

Still, the running group was among the wilder people there, down to the presents exchanged. No joke, one of the runners got the birthday girl a "Smooth Groove" as a birthday present, which was a little plastic thingie that apparently could be warn "to prevent the unsightly problem of camel toe". Who on earth comes up with these things?

Finally at around midnight, I was just feeling too tired and too bored by the crowds to stay on. I feel like I should have gone around and properly said my good-byes, but I knew I would have problems fighting through the crowds in my fairy wings (which had already taken quite a beating as I tried to weave in-between people). So, as rude as it was, I just slipped out quietly and made my way home to bed.

I did get a bit of a surprise as I walked home however, when I saw there was a huge commotion going on outside a hotel at the end of my street. It turned out that the latest Irish Eurovision pop act, "Jedward", was outside in these ridiculous sparkly costumes and sky-high hairdos, signing autographs. I almost thought about joining the crowds and getting a photo, and then I realised that I'm not that lame. Time to just head home!

The next morning, while curled up on the couch, I learned from the birthday girl that the party had continued on until 7 AM at the flat of a guy from the hash who lived nearby. Apparently Princess' ex-girlfriend had hooked up with Sthweetheart, which was somewhat shocking, but since she was the one who got dumped and was in need of an ego boost, I certainly wasn't going to begrudge her of it.

I did make it out for a run, and then in the evening was surprised to end up in a late-night conversation with DD when he asked me to send along a photo that I'd taken of him the night before. He was surprisingly sweet, whereas he often alternates between desperately liking me and seeming somewhat irritated with me. I'm sure if I were to truly sit down and think about it, I could figure out what's going on there, but just can't really be bothered... Still, he said he'd see me on Tuesday, so I'm looking forward to it already!

Work Training and Magdalene Dinner

I had originally been supposed to have a Skype session with a friend in Australia last night, but at 10 PM he e-mailed me apologizing, saying that he'd have to cancel as he'd forgotten that he and his partner were meeting someone for breakfast. Who on earth meets people for breakfast at 8:30 AM on a Friday morning? That sounded totally bizarre to me, but it was good as it allowed me to get to bed earlier to try and get some sleep before my big day the next day.

I guess I was too nervous about all that was going on, as I didn't get much sleep at all, and woke before my alarm at 6 AM. I got myself up, through the shower, and did my hair (I went for an updo that could work for the workday and for the dinner that evening), and got myself out of the house to Victoria.

Today I was supposed to be attending a "Milestone Training" for work, that was really geared towards the young consultants, rather than people like me, who have already been in their roles for some time. I did almost feel a bit lame when I got there, as all of these promotes had to be around 25-26 years old, and there I was, along with them. The Senior Managers up on the stage had to be about my age or only slightly older. It's a bit discouraging at times to realise how much my career has stalled...

Still, the presentations were good. There was one done by an actor who talked to us about non-verbal body language (helpful when you're dealing with people in person, less so when you're always on conference calls and web cams), a guy who talked to us about thinking differently, and a couple of instances where they brought some employees, unprepped, up on the stage to act out certain scenarios, and I was really impressed with the job they did. I guess it's really true what they say about the people at our company, that you're not dealing with the normal population, it's all a bunch of really high-achievers. Much like being at Dartmouth, where even if you had been the top kid in your high school, you had to understand that you were absolutely average in this crowd.

The day was rather long, so to amuse myself, I kept snapping pictures and sending them to my boss to entertain her. Halfway through the day I got an e-mail from her saying that I'd really been entertaining her all day long. Glad to know it, because "tweeting" the event was a good source of entertainment for me too!

Finally, the event was over at 5:30, where we got a chance to finally have some drinks and talk and socialise with people. I had planned to have only one drink before escaping to the O&C for the Magdalene dinner that evening. However, I suppose it's just the nature of how I am, that before I knew it, I'd had three (thanks to a very attentive chap I'd been talking to who brought me another drink before I even asked), and it was 10 minutes to 7 before I finally walked out of there (for a dinner that officially started at 7).

It was only a 20 minute walk/dash across Green Park to get to the club, and while I was walking, I was surprised when my phone rang and it was Joel! He was calling to tell me that he was leaving work right then with another guy who was coming to the dinner (he works with other Magdalene people? I didn't know this), and so he would be coming for pre-dinner drinks. Marvellous! I'm always happy to see Joel, and I was glad that this meant he could catch up with other old Magdalene friends too.

I changed in the loo as quickly as I could, and I think overall, I didn't look bad for having come from work. It was 7:30 before I managed to dash upstairs (for drinks that had started at 7), and so things were in full swing. I didn't see Joel, but had texted him about where to find us, so I figured there was nothing more I could do there.

I tried circulating a bit, but I was really too stretched by my organising responsibilities to do anything more than exchange 3-4 words with any one person. The Master arrived shortly after I did, so I was making polite conversation along with Tristan (who really shines at events like this one), and agreeing with Tristan and Doro how the whole thing should work in terms of timings, thank-yous, and so forth. I was quite happy to have Tristan speak on behalf of all of us, as he's such a wonderful speaker I thought it would work well.

I then spoke a bit to Sibe who still owed me money for the dinner, so he gave me a wad of cash, and then I talked briefly to Ali and Nic. As we chatted, we realised that I hadn't seen them since their wedding. It was rather hard to believe I hadn't seen them in a year, but Ali had changed so much, looking like such a middle-aged man, that perhaps this was indeed true.

As we went into dinner, there was some panic about there being people present who had not been on the original guest list, but it all seemed to work out in the end, so I suppose it was fine. The dinner itself was lovely (replacing the starter had been a good move), and although I felt a bit bad about abandoning all of my other friends at one end of the room, I did enjoy sitting with Hastie and Oly and a few different familiar faces. And it was nice as Ali swapped seats with the chap sitting on my left at one point, so he could come over and talk to me more properly for a bit. I have to say, he's changed since he got married, but I still do enjoy his company.

The Master gave a great after-dinner speech that most people seemed to enjoy, and we all seemed a bit emotional at the thought that this would be his last year as Master. How has it been ten years already? We didn't seem to have as much wine going around as last year, but perhaps that's a good thing. After all, I can't remember too much of last year's dinner, whereas this year at least my memories are all pretty crisp and clear.

Finally, at around 10:30, we retired to the bar, where I found Joel, on crutches! He didn't really explain what had happened, but in truth I was still pretty distracted by all of the people around me. I greeted him enthusiastically, not even noting the presence of H, the girl he's been involved with, for half a second. Eventually I did realise that she was there however, and greeted her, and chatted to her about what they'd been up to. Apparently they had just stayed and had drinks and sandwiches all evening, and now of course here was the crowd in the bar.

Also a bit embarrassingly, when I walked into the bar, there was a girl there who struck me as familiar for some reason, but I couldn't quite place her. It was only when I noted the guy standing next to her, that it suddenly all clicked. It was a couple I know through Inter-Club who are both in the Navy, and live in Portsmouth. So perhaps I can be forgiven for not recognising them out of context (what were they doing at the O&C? I was never quite clear on that, but it was still a delight to see them). The guy bought me a glass of red wine (I'd finished my port), and I had fun introducing them around and chatting with them for a bit.

Then came the most surreal part of the evening, when this guy came up to me, greeting me by name and telling me it was so good to see me again. I had no idea who he was, but luckily he laughed and explained that I'd proposed him for membership. Still wasn't quite sure what on earth he was talking about, until he mentioned that he was a friend of Mr Attractive, the guy who I met last spring and introduced to the club. And so of course I felt incredibly lame to remember Mr Attractive but not him, as it makes me seem like such a typical girl who only notices the good-looking guys.

Yet this guy, I had to admit, wasn't exactly bad-looking, just pales in comparison to his friend. And I joked that Mr Attractive still owed me an e-mail (haven't heard from him in months, in fact, but haven't really thought about it, as I never thought a guy that good-looking would be interested in me anyway). Then he and his friend joked about how Mr Attractive had such an ego, being such a good-looking guy, but you have to figure that sort of thing... Hence, resolved to put Mr Attractive out of my head and focus instead on this guy who obviously was somebody I should be paying attention to. But even as I consciously thought, "I must remember this guy's name", it just slipped out of my head right there. Admittedly the name was somewhat unusual, but I was still frustrated with myself for forgetting. I did remember his friend Simon's name though, but that one was much easier to call to mind.

Update: I gave the guy my card, and on Sunday he added me as a friend on Facebook. Ended up having a very nice FB online chat with him, actually. Thank goodness for how Facebook lets you connect with people!

I also spent some time chatting to some guy who I remembered putting on the guest list, and he was thanking me for organising and putting his girlfriend inadvertently close to another Finnish person. (Ummm yeah, I totally designed it that way). Still, it was really nice to get to talk to so many new people and know that my hard work had been appreciated.

Before I knew it, the time had reached 1 AM, and the bar was shut, and we were all still in the bar. Where on earth did the time go? So when another group seemed to be moving on to go to a nightclub, although I am normally so not a nightclub person, I went along. Changed into my flats as we walked, and still figured that once we got there, I would pull my usual disappearing act. Yet, when we got to the club, paid the £10 cover charge, the £1 charge to check my bag (in a genius move, this club gave you rubber bracelets for your bags instead of tickets) and joined the others on the dance floor. I decided not to drink (not interested in paying for over-priced drinks), but instead just went dancing. And I'd really thought I would stay for just a drink or two, but every time a new song came on, I kept thinking, "Hey, I like that song too!" I had one shot when a girl brought out a round of shots, but otherwise just kept dancing.

As I was dancing, just getting lost in the music and having fun, a part of me thought, "I really hope that one day I'll meet a guy who has no interest in loud over-priced nightclubs as a regular thing, but I have to admit that on occasion it's loads of fun." Perhaps so often when the Young Dutchman leads the crowds out to Maddox or another nightclub, and I beg off, perhaps I should go more.

Suddenly, I was totally surprised when the DJ stopped playing, and the dance floor just emptied out. It was over already? But we'd just gotten here! I mean, it was only......4 AM. Oh boy. Yeah, perhaps it was time to go then.

The group then all made our way to a McDonald's, and I love how in London, that can seem totally normal, to first have a whole bunch of people in black-tie head to a nightclub, and then end up in a McDonald's at 4 AM, with bow-ties undone and everybody looking dashingly dishevelled. And the way London is, we ran into a bunch of people who other people knew, who then knew more people, until the whole of McDonald's seemed like some weird reunion party. (And the place was packed, which I guess is how it goes at that hour of the morning). We managed to find a table that we all could gather around, perching two people to a chair, and woolfing down burgers and cokes. (I only realised a bit too late that I'd ordered a Diet Coke, and wondered if it would keep me awake when I got home. I need not have worried, as I was far too sleepy by the time I got home to stay awake much longer, Diet Coke or not!)

The rest of the group at this point was starting to fracture, although some folks did seem like they were going to head on to yet another club. I did think about going with them, but then passed a night bus stop where a bus that would take me back to my house would be passing by, and so I begged off at that point. This guy Matt B (who I had been sitting next to at dinner, who is actually a super-nice guy), really paused to give me a kiss and a nice send-off, not sure if it was due to any latent interest, or him just being sweet. Because as I've said, he's a super-nice guy. But a nice final way to end the evening.

I got on the bus, and realised that at 4 AM, it was too late to call even anyone in the US, so I tried to contact my friend Jess who is in Seattle, but then realised I didn't have her number in my phone. Bummer! Finally got to my stop, and walked the short distance home, where I ran into not just one but two foxes. Goodness, those critters are everywhere!

It was close to 5 AM by the time I fell into bed, and I almost thought about staying up, but then realised I was too exhausted to even contemplate that. Yet it had been one of those awesome, classic, great, "only in London" kind of nights. Those are the best.

Running in Shepherds Bush

I was so excited for this week's run, because I was able to walk to the starting pub, since the run was in Shepherd's Bush! The run was even being held at the Richmond Pub, a pub that I had lived directly across the street from for an entire year (the drunken men outside during the summer used to disturb my sleep), and yet I had never been inside. So this was a very exciting run for me.

When I arrived at the pub (following arrows backwards from my flat the entire way), I realised instantly why I had never been inside this particular pub: It was a real working men's pub, and I was the only person wearing pink in the entire place.

I sat down with the others to await everyone's arrival, and got talking to Sthweetheart. Turns out that just 2.5 months after starting a new job, he's been offered a different new job at double the salary. Thrilling news, although you could understand why he felt bad about leaving a job that he'd only begun 2.5 months earlier!

At about 7:15, we set out on the run, and I was pretty pleased with myself that I was able to keep up with the pace, and we never ran anywhere that I didn't know the area. It was nice to for once on a hash always know where I was!

Just as we were running near Kensington Olympia, we ran into a guy running the other direction. I did what Pork Pie often does, and yelled out, "You're going the wrong way! Come running with us!" So imagine my surprise when the guy shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay!" and fell into step beside me.

Unfortunately we were almost towards the end of the run, but he tagged along with the group all of the way back to the pub. He stayed and chatted with us for a bit at the pub, and I learned that his name was Nick, that he was Bulgarian, and that he lived on Sinclair Road and had been on his way to go work out with his rowing crew when he ran into me. I have to admit, it made me feel rather chuffed that this guy would pass up a workout with his team in favour of just following me around...never underestimate the appeal of an attractive girl!

After my new Bulgarian friend decided that he still needed to get a proper workout in for the evening (I don't blame him, as he had joined very late in the run and had not gotten a good workout in), I was standing around with everyone outside, when the cute Oxford Boy suddenly appeared (the guy from a few weeks ago), still in a suit from work. Okay, I'm not ashamed to admit it, he looked so ridiculously handsome that my knees got a little weak. Damn, how is it that boys look so good in suits? (Barney Stinson from "How I Met Your Mother" was right about that one).

He came up and greeted me first, and I'm not sure if that's because he doesn't really know other people yet, or he was really excited to see me. But he noticed I was without a drink, and so offered to get me one. As he walked into the bar, I got distracted for a moment by Lex, who needed to know the location of the nearest ATM and have me hold his drink. I thought surely now I would have lost him, but when I looked up, he was standing at the door, and gave me a nod as if to say, "You coming?" Bounded up the steps after him, just like an overly-eager puppy...

He got me a drink, and pretty shortly after that, Lex returned to reclaim his drink. It was really funny, because this was the first time he had met Lex, even though he had already met Lex's doppelganger at Louise's birthday party. And it was hilarious, because he kept exclaiming, "You look exactly like this guy we met at the pub!" He was doing the doppelganger thing the other way around...

As the crowds shuffled through the bar, this very chesty woman suddenly stopped me to ask me, "Sweetie, where do you get your sports bras? I'd love to work out more, but it's too painful, and you're the first girl I've ever seen with a chest like mine who works out!"

I suppose this shows the hidden sisterhood of really large-chested women, as I was only too eager to let her in on my secret, that I wore two sports bras at the same time, one on top of the other. And we actually got into quite an in-depth conversation about how some sports bras are so restrictive that you can't breathe, but you need a sufficient amount of support. I did find it funny though, that out of all the girls who had been on the run, she zeroed in on me as having the biggest chest and yet still obviously supported.

I was so cracked up by this, that I immediately had to go tell Sthweetheart, who has often made jokes about my sizeable chest. Unfortunately cute Oxford Boy was there, as he'd wandered off while I was talking to the chesty lady. Oh well, hopefully he found it funny...

I continued to spend most of my time talking to the cute Oxford Boy, who held my drink when I got done for picking up a cute guy on the run, and I held his when he got called up to do a little dancing demonstration.

When we were out of our first drinks, he got us both a second round, where he paid again. I was really wondering, "Should I be paying here or not?" On the one hand, I didn't want to appear to be taking advantage of his generosity, and it really was my round. However, trading rounds seems to give off an incredibly "friendly" vibe, so I wondered if it made more sense to just let him keep paying (as I knew he could afford it) and feel all manly.

Still, at least he can't argue that I wasn't paying attention to him, because I ended up chatting to him all evening, and discovering that he was actually quite hilarious. Turns out his secret past was that he was super-nerdy and into computer programming. Damn, the boy just got even more attractive. I love computer nerds.

He also mentions that he works by St. Paul's, and that we should meet up for lunch sometime since I also work nearby...would be nice to see him when I'm not all sweaty from running!

The only thing that did give me pause, is I can't remember how it even came up, but he described himself as "super Catholic." Which of course made me think, "Damn, does that mean you don't do pre-marital sex?" (Seriously, I think I could handle the religious element, as I spent so much time in Catholic churches growing up. But I just couldn't handle anyone who was that stand-offish about physical intimacy). Particularly as I'm still not convinced this guy could be anything serious, as fun and awesome as he is.

As I was chatting to him, my phone started buzzing repeatedly, the indication that it was an actual phone call. (And since I was storing my phone in my sports bra, it was kind of hard to keep a straight face while talking since I was getting buzzed!) When the cute Oxford Boy went to the loo, I checked my missed calls and realised it had been Joel calling. Damn! I always love talking to Joel! So I texted him, saying, "Apologies I couldn't answer phone, was chatting to a cute boy. Will call you in a bit."

About an hour later, I received a reply: "Outrageous. Surely not as cute as me. Ur a tuff mistress."

Alas, since cute Oxford Boy had now returned from the loo, I could not text Joel back, until I finally managed to respond on my walk home when it was nearly midnight: "Of course not as cute as you! (No boy is). But he was there and buying me drinks, so I thought that ignoring him to call Joel instead, while understandable, would be a bit impolite..."

It's funny, as I'm sure it's nothing, but I could swear from random comments here and there that Joel seems to be growing a bit more fond of me than as just a friend. Which is madness (this is Joel we're talking about, who has been my friend for eight years!), but it's enough that I did pause before asking his advice on the hidden messages of drinks payments with men. In the end, I never asked.

In the end, I let the cute Oxford Boy pay for the second round (he's a banker, I doubt it will kill him), but at the end of the evening, when I was just getting confused and we were more into larger conversations with the rest of the group, I paid for half-pints for each of us. I have to say, I wasn't sure why he was so determined to stay on so late (it was 11:30 PM by this point and they were mopping the floors of the bar), but a part of me selfishly hopes perhaps it was the pleasure of my company.

Finally, they had rung the bell, mopped the floors, and asked for our glasses back, as it was really time for us to leave and go home. Upon realising that I wasn't going to be going to the Tube with them, DD says he and Piddler (or maybe the whole crowd), should come home with me, since I live around the corner. I might have considered that, if only I hadn't left dirty laundry all over my floor. No way was I inviting people to come see that mess! One more reason I should clean up regularly, even when I'm not expecting company. And let's face it, Oxford Boy is the only one I really want coming home with me.

So I sent them all on their way, and walked home, texting Joel as I went. What an unexpectedly fantastic evening!