Off to Italy

I'm not sure if I’d really gone to sleep when my computer buzzed with my parents calling.  I managed to stay up and talk to them for a few minutes, before realising that I had to get out of bed and get moving, as time was wasting.  Time to get dressed, take out the trash, and call a cab to take me to Victoria Station.  I hate going to Gatwick at the best of times, but this was reminding me how much I truly hate that airport.

When I called my usual cab company, I got a nasty shock when the guy said there was no way I could get a cab, that every cab he had was already pre-booked.  I put in a quick request on the mobile app for Addison Lee, and worried when it told me the cab might not be on its way for another 20 minutes.  Yet, I was pleasantly surprised when it was barely 10 minutes later that the cab showed up, and we sped through the darkened streets of London to Victoria Station.  The cab driver even said to me, “ I'm rather surprised you managed to get a cab at this hour, as everyone has already booked to go to home for Christmas.”  Indeed, there were mini cabs out everywhere on the streets, and I thanked my lucky stars that somehow things had all worked out for me.  But then again, they often do. 

I got to the station, paid the driver, got my ticket and got on the train.  Got to the airport, saw a guy I knew in the next line over for check-in, but decided not to say hello, as I was just too off-my-face with exhaustion.  Got through security, debated buying something from Duty Free, but I just couldn't decide on anything and the prices didn't seem THAT advantageous, so I just skipped it.  Got on the plane, thankfully at last, and just about fell asleep, straight up in my middle seat, almost instantly. 

When I landed in Venice, my Old Roommate wasn't yet there, but after only about 20 minutes, she called me and told me where to meet her, and so we had a happy reunion.  Went back and put my bags in the car and debated going to Venice for the day (since the car was in Long-Term Parking), but then bagged that idea to drive back to Aviano.  It was a good chance to catch-up, and when we got back towards Aviano, she suggested that we might grab lunch.  I was exhausted, but then also realised that I was hungry, and so lunch suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. 

We went to a little pizza place in a town where they had stayed while looking for permanent accommodation, and I have to admit the pizza was truly excellent.  We had prosecco with lunch (as you do in Italy, eh?) and toasted finally seeing each other again.  Although I had to have a Diet Coke with my lunch as well, I was so damn exhausted. 

We then went to the military base, where it was a bit interesting getting me on base, as the security at the base check-in was quite strict.  We had to park and come in to the guard house, while they took my passport and did a ton of stuff with it.  Never have I been so glad to be a US citizen, because I can only imagine what a hassle it would have been if I were a foreign national!  However we made it through that, and then checked out the commissary and stores.   

Finally at this point we went back to the house, where I played with The Kid for a little while (it was good to see her again), my Old Roommate's three-and-a-half year-old.  I've always loved The Kid, as for some reason we've just always gotten along.  I hadn't seen The Kid in nearly two years, but she seemed to remember me, and she was just as much of a blast as always.

We had a dinner at home of spaghetti and meatballs, and then at around 8:30 p.m., my Old Roommate suggested that we might check out a concert that was happening at the church in the middle of town at 9 PM.  So while her husband offered to watch The Kid and get her into bed, my Old Roommate and I grabbed flashlights, and set out into the darkness.

Although the night was bitterly cold (how I wished for something to cover my ears!), the town was something out of a fairytale.  We wandered through silent cobblestone streets, not a car anywhere, the only noises being other people out walking, or coming from inside noisy houses and cafes were people were obviously gathering for good company and good cheer.

The Christmas lights on the buildings were something amazing, some almost like neon flashing lights, but yet somehow still less garish than things I've seen in the US.  And we wandered through the quiet streets until we reached the warm, inviting glow of the main church in the centre of town, with the bell tower high above.

Inside, I once again noticed something that I'd observed at the airport, which is that to look at people, I could easily have thought myself back in New York.  Although the Italian population in New York is more Sicilian (and here we were in northern Italy), there was somehow a look that I'd seen in every Long Island grocery store.  Kind of funny to realise where all Americans come from.

The concert was due to start at 9 PM, and so although things got off to a late start, at ten past the hour, when the orchestra and choir filed in, I was grateful that things would be getting going soon, as I was nearly passing out, I was so exhausted at this point.

Yet, this was Italy, and so apparently every senior male in the town needed to give a little speech first.  So first one old man gave a speech, then another, and yet another.  And after a half-hour of speeches, when I finally thought we might get to start the concert, the first guy started talking again!  As my friend said to me when I commented on this, "Welcome to Italy!"  Apparently you just get used to things being done a certain way here...

Finally the concert started, and I had to admit that the music was lovely, if not at all what I expected.  I'd been expecting Christmas music, and here this was a Vivaldi concert.  A very good one, to be fair, but still not what I'd been expecting.  Another classic characteristic, as things are often not what one expects.  Not bad, but just not what you'd been anticipating, many times.

I have to admit, in my exhaustion, I nodded off quite a few times through the concert, but somehow struggled on to the end, even through the encore piece.  At 11 PM we finally staggered out of the church, and made our way through the freezing cold night in the still and silent town to get back home. Yet, as we wandered the soft and still streets, it felt like something out of a movie, the sleepy little Italian village in the mountains.  What a lovely place to spend Christmas.

Dash Back to London

The view out my window in the morning

In the morning, I struggled to wake up, I was still so exhausted from the night before.  Which was why I only managed to make it to breakfast at 9:20am, 10 minutes before they were due to stop serving.  I ran right into the recently married couple who I had been seeing so much this weekend however, as apparently they had also only just arrived, as we were all struggling to get up this morning.

I thought the spread was a bit meagre (just yoghurt and fruit), but then it turned out that one had to order a hot breakfast.  Although the egg and bacon sandwich looked tempting, I decided to be slightly healthy and get the smoked salmon and eggs.  Filling breakfast, and hopefully would hold me for some time yet.

We got the shuttle back to the airport, although I didn't sleep much this time.  Once there, I said my good-byes to everyone, and then hopped the airport shuttle back into downtown Edinburgh.  Arriving at 1 PM, I was much too late to make the 12:30 pm train, but the 1:30 pm train (an hour earlier than I'd originally booked) now seemed possible.  Yet I was reading that now that it was high-season travel time for going home for Christmas, catching a train without a reserved seat might be a trick, I just had to try my luck.

Yet luck was with me this day, as I managed to find a seat on the train, right next to the window, facing forwards.  I hooked up my laptop, connected to the internet, and got quite a bit of work done, all of the way back to London.  Hurrah!

I also found myself chatting quite a bit with the Tall South African on the trip, and he suggested that I give him a call when I got back to London, and we could go out for drinks.  So when I got back, I did exactly that, and he suggested that I pack for Venice first and then give him a call.

It was funny, as he always talks like a Russian spy under torture whenever The Blonde is in the room with him, so I wasn't surprised when the next message was a text instead of a call.  He suggested that we meet somewhere in the middle for drinks, and so although I was so tired I easily could have skipped the whole thing, I dragged myself out onto the Overground train to go meet him in Clapham Junction at 9 PM.

No surprise, he was late (although I'd done exactly as promised, and texted him right when I was walking out the door, it took him another 20 minutes to leave the house), and so then I found him calling me to say where he was constantly as he rushed to meet me.  He called and told me to meet him at the Marks and Sparks, and I went there, but there was no sign of him.  I was still on the phone with him, and he said he was in the Superdrug across the way, but I kept looking in and not seeing him....until I heard his actual voice directly behind me asking, "Are you sure?"

Bastard!!  I switched off my phone, turned around and tackled him, as he laughed his head off at having tricked me.  I had to admit, it was really funny how a massive 6'5" tall blonde guy had managed to sneak up on me without me noticing.  How did he do that?

He giggled for quite a while at his clever trick, as we went out in search of a place to grab a drink.  The first few places we tried were noisy and crowded, but finally we found an All-Bar-One that was a decent choice, where we could grab a table to sit down and talk.  I bought the drinks, as he'd been talking about how broke he was these days, particularly after needing to buy new tires for his car and cracking a tooth, which was basically going to need a root canal to fix.  Talking to him about his struggles to put away £50 a month in savings, I was somewhat shocked, but then also remembered my days of being 24 and working at my first job, and realising that having a few extra thousand dollars to spend would have also seemed like an impossibility then.

As per usual, the conversation turned to him and The Blonde, as already their relationship is struggling (but who didn't see that one coming?)  Apparently they'd just had a fight before he came out, as she wants to take a job tending bar at a strip club, which he doesn't approve of.  It's been so very interesting talking to him about his experiences with her, and realising how much as much as men like going to strip clubs or being with sexually experienced girls, they don't actually want that girl on their arm to call her his girlfriend.  I teased him a bit about his conflicting desires (a girl who was sexually adventurous in bed, although who hadn't slept with too many people), which brought out more complaints about her surprisingly low sexual appetite.  Which I was somewhat surprised by, but then again, isn't that a classic complaint, that men want it much more than women do?  Although surprising that a girl who seems to have slept with so many people wouldn't actually enjoy sex that much, or want it that frequently.  What a shame, really...

He surprised me however with his real complaint, that he was almost sure she had slept with someone else the night before.  He said, "I slept with her this afternoon, and I almost didn't want to, but once I did....I just KNEW.  There are certain signs which I guess you just learn to read, and that girl has slept with someone else very recently."

I just felt very surprised that given how devoted she had seemed to him only a month ago that she would cheat on him like that, but he seemed quite certain.  Yet as he continued to share more than I really should know about someone else's relationship, I had to admit, the signs were all there.  Fed, at the heart of it, by an almost tragic level of insecurity.  Who would have imagined that a girl so beautiful would feel the need for male approval, from so many sources, so desperately?  At least though I think I did point out one key thing to him:  "No girl will ever say that she wants to be single, or even admit to herself that she wants to be single. Because somehow that seems to mark you as some sort of failure."

Thankfully we didn't spend the entire time talking about his relationship (it can get tedious at times, because he never asks me about my own love life, as he really just has no interest in it).  We talked about jobs and the future and money and finances, and particularly he seemed keen that we would take a trip to New York together in May.  I warned him that I wasn't that keen to introduce him to my family and friends, not because I don't think they would like him, but because it would raise so many questions about him.  Which almost brought the same issue back onto the table that we've already been over a million times before:  Why we're not together ourselves.

And yet, as I panicked about having to introduce him to my family, I realised that the reason we're not together is right there in front of me: He's too young, and he doesn't know how to make someone feel secure in a relationship.  He knows too much, and there's always something better out there.  I couldn't live with that kind of insecurity.

Still, I have one incredible degree of security with him:  We were talking about how it has now been a year since we met, and we are still the best of friends.  As this evening, he left being cuddled up with his girlfriend in a post-coital glow to trek out into the cold to meet me, because he knew it was his last chance to see me before Christmas.  And I didn't even question that, as of course he would do that for me.

Yet, it was with incredible disappointment that I checked my phone and realised I had missed a call from the Young Dutchman this evening.  How I wish I had been able to talk to him tonight.  Somehow, that relationship still remains my most cherished one.

At last, the Tall South African took note of the time, and delivered me back to Clapham Junction station just in time to catch the absolute last train back to Shepherd's Bush.  It was a close one.  And now I had arrived home at midnight, with packing still to be done, needing a shower and wondering why on earth I'd agreed to that second bottle of wine.  Yet, as I soldiered on through my exhaustion, I was so happy I got to see him one last time before the holidays...

Navy Boy's Wedding

I have to say, the name "sleeper train" is a real mis-nomer.  Although my bunk was soft enough (if not particularly wide), and the pillows were fluffy and the blankets were warm, I found that my imaginings of the train gently rumbling through the night and rocking me to sleep were pure fantasy.  Every time I imagined that I might be tired enough to fall asleep, the train would suddenly pick up speed and slam me into the back of my berth, or slow down or even stop at a station, rolling me the other way, as though I might tip out of my bunk.  I'd seen a few members of the House of Commons boarding the train last night (as I'd heard they sometimes do when travelling back to their home districts), but I have no idea how anybody could arrive well-rested after this journey!

Taking photos

I asked my bunk-mate how we would know when the train had arrived in Scotland, and she responded, totally deadpan, "It will stop moving."  Hence, about 20 minutes after a sharp rap on the cabin door alerted me to my orange juice, the train did indeed rumble to a stop, and we had arrived in Edinburgh.  They don't kick you off the train right away, but it remains on the platform for a good half-hour.  Yet, at this point I was eager to just get off and get going, so I bit my bunk mate farewell, gathered my things, and departed the train.

I relatively easily found where I could catch the bus to the Edinburgh Airport, bought a round-trip ticket (as I knew I'd be coming back this way the next day), and enjoyed the free wifi on the shuttle for the half-hour journey.

Once I arrived at the airport, I realised I still had almost an hour before I was due to meet the shuttle, and given that my phone was on its last legs after spending all night on the train, I found a chair near an outlet and sat down to recharge it.  (I swear, airports are all about finding seats near electrical outlets these days!)  I spent some time texting back and forth with the Tall South African, and then when the time was right, went and found my shuttle ride.

I introduced myself to a few of the relatives, and readily struck up a conversation with a young couple who had also recently married, and the guy was doing graduate work in maths at Oxford, at Univ.  They told a funny story about how when trying to keep numbers down for the wedding, they'd insisted that the only "plus ones" who could attend had to be married or at least engaged.  At which point, Navy Boy turned around and proposed to his now fiancee, to which they said, "Quite an extreme way to get an invite to a wedding, but at that point, we had to abide by our own rules and extend her an invite!"

The entire wedding party

As you see, this wedding had come as a surprise to just about everyone.  The bride and groom had known each other for years, but had long insisted that they were "just friends".  Indeed, the groom had gone out with friends of mine, and I'd worked on setting up the bride with guys I know.  Although they were often seen places together, there was no implication that they were anything other than two people who enjoyed spending a lot of time together.

Hence, when out of the blue I received a text from the groom in October that he'd proposed to her, she'd said yes, and now they wanted to know if I was coming to their engagement drinks...well, it seemed totally out of left-field.  Yet, I supposed that I was the only one who didn't know what the hell happened, but now at the wedding it turned out...nobody had a clue!  One of the mysteries of the weekend that was never quite answered, but I suppose at the end of the day, the story of their romance is all their own.

Once I got on the shuttle, it turned out that a minibus making it's way through winding, muddy Scottish back roads in the pouring rain was MUCH more soothing than a rolling, jerking, rocking train, and I fell asleep almost immediately.  Next thing I knew, we'd arrived at the hotel, we all checked in, and I went up to my room to do my hair and change.

I had about an hour, before it was time to head back downstairs to go to the wedding itself.  A mini bus took everyone there, and I noted with some dismay that I was one of the only women not wearing a hat, or at least a fascinator.  I shall really have to get myself one of those at some point, at least for long-distance weddings like this one.

At the church, as we waited for the bride to arrive (listening to a bagpiper playing the entire time), I found myself chatting quite a bit with the lovely couple I'd been talking to at the airport.  It passed the time, and then finally, after about 30 minutes, the ceremony was due to start.

The bride, when she walked down the aisle, was absolutely in tears.  Which I suppose could have happened because she was so overwhelmed by the emotion of the day, but wow.  It reminded me never, ever to cry at my own wedding, as the poor girl looked like she was heading to some sort of execution.  I mean, she looked like she was absolutely sobbing.  Had this all come on too fast?  Was she really happy to be getting married?  Oh dear, it just made me worry a bit...

The ceremony was mercifully brief, although a bit strange too, as it turned out the minister was a last-minute replacement.  He made a few jokes, like about how "Incompatibility is the spice of life, if he has the income and she is palatable."  A few others about money, which is how we reassured ourselves that this was definitely a Scottish wedding.

After the ceremony, we dashed back through the pouring rain to the bus (the absolute downpour had not let up, we would surely be building an ark soon!), and then made it back to the hotel.  I found myself chatting to the other couple, and to a cousin of the bride whom I had met at the engagement drinks.  I'd liked this girl very much at the time, and did so again here.  She worked as a physio for a professional rugby team, and was just absolutely beautiful and charming, one of those girls who you can't fathom why they are single.  Although perhaps people think much the same about me.  Whatever the reason, I suppose we much be much the same, as I found myself taking to her instantly.

I was desperate for a chance to change however before the reception, and so was grateful with 10 minutes to spare, the cousin suggested that we all retire for a bit before dinner.  Quickly changed into another dress and ditched the stockings that were killing me and starting to ladder already.  And took a moment to rest, just for a moment, as last night's lack of sleep was really starting to catch up with me!

We came back downstairs for dinner, where the food was good, but I found myself incredibly bored to be on a table with the flower girls, seated in-between the groom's crazy eccentric aunt and the bride's slightly racist South African brother-in-law.  It was somewhat interesting talking to him about life in Johannesburg and how the family lived down there, as the bride's entire family was still from South Africa.  I wonder what they thought about her going off to live in England and join the English Navy?

Post-dinner, at around 8:30 pm, the dancing started, and after the first dance I slipped upstairs to my room to drop off my handbag, and then sat down on my bed for what was supposed to be just a second.  I was just. So.  Damn.  Exhausted.

The next thing I knew, I glanced at my watch and it was 10 PM.  I had somehow fallen asleep, fully dressed, in my hotel room.  I seriously debated just staying up there and calling it a night, but I knew I couldn't sneak away from the wedding like that.  So as tired as I was, I forced myself up again, and made my way downstairs, nearly staggering with exhaustion.  I normally get a second wind from being around people and out at parties, but here I was dying.

At least when I arrived downstairs, they had just put out bacon sandwiches for everyone, so I ate one in the hopes that some food might wake me up a bit.  It turned out that I'd missed the ceilidh, which had been one thing I was tremendously looking forward to, but from what people were saying, it had only been one or two dances anyway.

I stayed by the fireplace, chatting a while with the cousin and her parents for a while, before we got dragged into the bar.  The bride and groom had apparently gone off to bed, but the Best Man was determined to play his part, and ensure that the party continued.  So before long I had a G&T in my hands, and we were all enjoying the ribald humour of the navy boys.

Then for some reason the Best Man decided that we all needed to do shots (that is NEVER a good idea in my experience!), and so with some sort of silly apple vodka in a shot glass, I joined in a toast to the lassies (as all Scottish men are wont to do), and then we had a toast to "a bloody war and a sickly season", as apparently that's Thursday's toast in the Navy.  I looked it up later on Wikipedia, and found that it was indeed true.

While most of these toasts are self-explanatory, "a bloody war or a sickly season" refers to the desire and likelihood of being promoted when many people die: during war or sickness.

When the band started packing up, but left some music on playing, the Best Man decided to lead the ten or so of us in a crazy circle, dancing to "Sweet Caroline".  It's was hilarious, as he actually had us counting out steps as though it were yet another ceilidh dance, and I have to admit it actually worked quite well!  We were having so much fun that we did a few more, until the band quite insistently put on "Auld Lang Syne", as in Scotland it's the way you end every party, not just New Year's Eve.  Finally, although the Best Man seemed quite determined to hold the bar up until 3 AM, I just couldn't stay upright any longer, I was so exhausted.  So finally off to bed at 1 AM!

Last Drinks Before Christmas

Tonight was one of those perfect confluence nights, where everything seemed to land all on one day.  First, it was the night for the "Last Wednesday Drinks" at the Club, the last ones before the club closed for Christmas.  

I needed to be in Scotland the next day however for a friends' wedding, so I booked myself on the midnight train from Euston station, taking the Caledonian Sleeper up to Edinburgh, from whence I would catch a shuttle ride to the hotel for the wedding.  So two things on one day, but I was sure I could manage it.  

My bunk on the sleeper train

Then a girl who had been on my course at Oxford, who had been asking if we could meet up for weeks, came around again suggesting we meet up, so I simply suggested she come along to these drinks as well.  Three things at once.  Still manageable.

Then a friend from high school who lives in Boston announced that she was going to be in London for one night only.  Tonight.  Okay, so she should come for drinks too!  Four things at once.  I can do this.

Then a girl who I'd met at the Christmas Ball who wanted to join the club e-mailed and asked if I could give a tour of the club, so I suggested she come along to these drinks as well.  Five things at once.  Oh, and at the last minute she invited a friend without telling me.  Stressful, but manageable...

Oh, then the German-American Guy let me know he was coming, and I'd been wanting to make an effort to talk to him and catch up with him.  Six things at once.  Yeah, I could start to see this one going downhill...

But the kicker came at the end of the work day, when I was frantically trying to get ready and out of the house in time to meet my high school friend at the club.  My phone rang, and I answered it with a simple, "Oh.  My.  God."  It was Joel.  Who I was talking to in person.  Who wanted to know if I was free for drinks.  Tonight.  AUGH!  The person I want to see more than anyone, but with the worst timing ever!  

I explained to him my dilemma, and he said that although he was wearing jeans, he might grab appropriate duds to change into and call me later, although a part of me knew that would never happen.  {Sigh!}  Oh Joel, I do adore you and miss you so, but I do wish you would give me more advance notice!

I made it to the club and met up with the girl from my course, and was joined slightly later by my high school friend.  I didn't have as much time to devote to talking to everyone as I would like (I barely got a chance to speak to the German-American Guy), but hopefully I gave everyone enough attention.  

I was distracted by my phone buzzing at one point, but it was a bit before I could excuse myself to go to the phone booth to check it.  Turns out it was the Tall South African, who was calling in surprise at the fact that he had received my Christmas card that day, and it had made him laugh excessively.  I like to write real Christmas cards, giving people honest news, not just checking a box and filling in the blanks.  Still, once he realised that I was out and at a drinks party, he encouraged me to go back to it.  Only right, I suppose, and to be honest I'd only left to check my phone in the hopes that it might be Joel calling.  

I then returned into the party, where I found my friend from high school entertaining two German guys, including one I'd met a few weeks ago, and thankfully my brain managed to remember his name from the depths of my consciousness.  As we talked, the guy kept moving around the group to be near me, paying quite a bit of attention to me, and doing what I'd thought he was doing when he first met me, very obviously being quite flirtatious.  Given that he'd also gone to Balliol, we'd hit it off right at the start, and I had to admit that although I had my concerns about his age, he was pretty easy on the eyes.  We spent the entire evening talking, mostly just the two of us in a corner, although finally at one point I had to abandon him to not entirely ignore the two girls who had come to get a tour of the club.  Damn my 50-million obligations in one night!  

Although, just to keep me thoroughly distracted, a guy tapped me on the shoulder at one point, and thank God my failing brain also recognised him and came up with his name.  It was the 25-year old that I'd met at the drinks in October!  It was nice to see him and recognise that he'd made an effort to talk to me, and even later on in the evening he was sending me messages on Facebook.  He'd been there with another girl that evening (and we'd already established that I was much too old for him), but I suppose whatever spark or chemistry was there at the start is still there a little bit...

Finally, after I'd raced through a tour of the club, and it was past 11 PM, the girls I was with at least gracefully acknowledged that I was due to be on a train to Scotland in just a few minutes.  And given that I have no idea what I would have done if I missed my train, I grabbed my bags and booked it out of there.  

I debated taking a cab, but then realised that taking the Tube was actually probably the fastest way there.  I managed to arrive at Euston station 20 minutes in advance of my train, and then ran around in a mad panic trying to find a ticket machine to print out my ticket.  

Thankfully the station staff directed me, I got my ticket, got on board, and was shown to my cabin.  It took me at least four tries before I could understand most of the questions the heavily-Scottish-accented staff were asking me, but finally figured enough out to ask for orange juice in the morning.  I found myself sharing with a university student, going back to Edinburgh, who had done the journey before and was able to share a few tips and bits of wisdom with me.  

The very cozy cabin in the sleeper train!

I went and got changed into some clothes more appropriate for sleeping in, and then curled myself up in the top bunk of the cabin.  I exchanged a few messages with people, and then finally, as the train pulled out of the station, dimmed the lights and settled down to sleep, as we rumbled north to Scotland.  As I'd joked with people, I'd always wanted to be on "the midnight train", and here I finally was on one.  Not going anywhere though, but off to Edinburgh!

One More Christmas Party

In the morning when I woke up, I was so stiff, I realised there was no way I could make it to the party I was due to attend at 2 PM.  I absolutely HAD to go to yoga class at my gym, which wouldn't end until 1:45 PM. Still, the class turned out to be exactly what I needed.  There was a replacement instructor there, who led us through some gentle stretching, until I was feeling somewhat human again.

I then raced home, showered, and got myself in shape to go out by 3 PM.  As the party was on the far side of the middle of nowhere however, I didn't arrive there until 4 PM.  Yet, I arrived just as quite a few others were arriving, so perhaps my timing was spot on.

The house was lovely, with a living room, dining room, and kitchen that I never saw.  I have to say, looking at it I could see why somebody would want to own their own place like that, but it was just so darn far away from everything, I couldn't imagine living there.  It was the opposite side of anywhere.

The host kept practically forcing mulled wine on all of us, and although I enjoyed bits and pieces of conversation with everyone, I was quickly quite bored.  There were only so many homemade mince pies and Christmas pudding ice cream I could eat.  I had to admit, that it was interesting to see the Young Scotsman, and his new girlfriend, who was not at all what I would have expected.  For a guy who has gone through quite a wide swath of the female population, I had figured he would settle on some hot, glamorous, blonde.  A short, simpering, simple-minded little girl was not at all what I expected.  I mean, she was very friendly, but just...not quite two brain cells to rub together, if you catch my drift.  And you usually expect a girl with that little to talk about to have amazing looks to compensate, but not quite in this case.  At least she seemed absolutely adoring of him, and perhaps that's what attracts him to her.  As long as they're happy, I suppose...  But it's always interesting to see what people go for, isn't it?

I forced myself to stay for at least a while, but when I saw an opportunity to leave (one girl had to get home for dinner with her parents), I jumped at the chance to go with her.  I guess I was the only thing keeping everyone at the party however, for as soon as I announced I was going, four other boys jumped up and said they were going as well.  One offered me a ride home, and so eager to not have to do the cross-town trek for over an hour on the train again, I gratefully accepted.

It was a fun ride, as I travelled in the back seat of a very old-style, swank Mercedes that this guy had apparently recently acquired.  I found myself riding with a charming blonde Scotsman, the younger brother of a friend of mine, who I have secretly always liked a bit more than my friend.  He's one of those shorter guys whose height I never notice, as I just find him to be so charming and funny.

The journey across town took nearly an hour anyway (just as long as the Tube), but at least this time I got to make the journey while being chauffeured there.  We dropped two of the boys off in East Putney, and then the driver took me back directly to my door, a very gracious thing of him to do.  I did worry slightly about being alone in the car with him, but we chatted idly about holiday plans and this and that, and he was a complete gentleman, leaving me right at my door.

So I fulfilled my social obligations for the day, and was grateful to have a chance to be home and go to bed, resting my aching muscles!

Back to Polo

Pony lines

Yesterday, Sophie had texted me out of the blue asking if I wanted to go play polo today.  I hadn't played since before my accident, but the deal she'd found to go play was exceptionally good, so I agreed to meet her at Kew Gardens to go catch a ride to this place.

Today was the Young Dutchman's birthday, so while we were waiting for our ride, I gave him a call and left him a message.  He still hadn't gotten back to me with any idea of plans for what he wanted to do for his birthday, but I still wanted to make sure to acknowledge the day.  (He later told me that it had been a very low-key day, and he's just gone to see Skyfall with Kellogg Boy.  As he put it to me, "Sometimes I just get tired, you know?"  I had to laugh, because it was a sentiment I could understand completely).

We then met the guy who was giving us a ride to the place, and although he drove a bit too fast for my liking, we made it there right on time.  Sophie and I had been in a debate about whether or not to wear whites, but we both did, which I am glad of given that everybody there was wearing whites a well.  It might have only been a practice game, but it's still good form to dress properly, I guess!

I hadn't played polo since before my accident, so I was a bit worried about how I would manage, particularly as one has to hitch your left leg up high, getting your foot in the stirrup, bending your knee, and then hefting all of your weight into the saddle based on the strength of that one leg.  Yet despite all of these challenges, I did fine, and got into the saddle with no problems at all.

My first pony was great, very quick and responsive, and the second wasn't bad either.  The others kept complaining about their ponies, but I am tempted to think it was more a problem of bad riding than bad ponies.  I made sure right from the start to ride with a loose rein and not interfere with my pony's head, and they seemed to reward me by being responsive and working with me.  I didn't use a whip on either of them, but they were good for both games.

We spent about 15 minutes stick-and-balling before playing 12-minute chukkas, and I picked up hitting the ball again pretty readily.  Sophie jokingly said how it wasn't fair, that despite not having played in a year I was still a better player than she was.  I guess I'm just lucky that I've always been naturally good at polo...  During the games however, I wish I was more aggressive.  I always seemed to be just behind the action, not hooking or riding off people as much as I should.

Ponies in the mud

Right at the third chukka, it started raining a bit, but it cleared quickly and we were rewarded with the sight of a massive double-rainbow.  The colours were so bright in the sky on the first one, that it positively looked like someone had drawn a paintbrush across the template of the blue sky above.  Massively beautiful, it was hard to keep your eye on the game sometimes, it was so pretty to see.  Alas, one can't carry a camera whilst riding a pony and playing polo, so I have no photos of it!

After we played, we drove home again, where I quickly had to shower, change, and head out to meet Sweetheart for dinner.  We met at Notting Hill Gate, and I suggested a few places to him, before we decided to walk up to Notting Hill.  As we walked, he mentioned to me that he's been on sleeping meds for a while now, to the point where he's worried that he might be dependent on them.  I didn't know quite what to say, but it was a surprising admission from a guy who always seems so healthy all of the time.

I led him to a little pizza place that I knew of, and we had a good dinner and conversation, where we talked about our "number" (he claimed to have no idea what his was, and I told him my theory that the only number anybody needs to know is "three", based on a book I once read in an airport that claimed a study had shown that was the ideal number someone should have when they met someone).  

It was a good dinner, with really good American craft beers that this place had.  It was interesting to talk to him about directions he wished his life had gone, and how he thought he messed up when meeting people but getting overly-familiar too quickly.  It was an interesting side of a person who has always seemed so self-confident, to realise they have the same insecurities as anyone else.  I couldn't believe it when he told me that he'd calmed down a lot from how he once was, but

We then made it to the party, arriving just as some other people did, and made our way into the crowds.  Sweetheart seemed to do pretty well at finding people to talk to, and I found myself surprised to be in conversation with our hostess, who mentioned she was currently in conversations with her ex about getting back together.

It was sort of a shock to realise how much time had passed since we'd been at Oxford together, but at the time she'd dated an American guy who had since gone on to join the Marines, go to Afghanistan, get married, and was now known to be separating from his wife.  And she said to me, "I was in the US and we met up, and suddenly this all came out about how he'd never stopped thinking about me.  And I kind of feel like we could do this, given that I was 18 when we first got together, but I'm older and know more now."  All in all, it just made my head spin a bit.

At midnight, I gathered Sweetheart, and he insisted that we grab a cab home.  I could sense that his last conversation, with a girl who had been into him at first, had also gone down the tubes of his overly-famiilar nature.  And he was feeling a bit drunk and friendly and close to me, the girl who he is always going out with lately.  Yet...I just don't want to go there.  Not now, not with a guy who has slept with The Blonde, a guy who doesn't even know his own number.

So I very clearly told the cab driver that we would be making two stops, and when he tried to refuse my money when we got to my stop (saying "Your money isn't any good around here!") I simply gave it to the cab driver instead.  I planted a big kiss right on his lips (can't leave the poor guy hanging), and then scrambled out of the cab.  I know we flirt too much, but tonight was not the night...

Ginger Lawyer's Christmas Drinks

Goodness that was a very boring party...

The Ginger Lawyer had said that he was having some Christmas drinks along with his flatmate at their place this evening.  So although it was absolutely brutally cold outside, I trekked across town and found their flat in the midst of the old Arsenal playing grounds, and navigated the strangest entry system to find my way into their flat.

I found there were few people there when I arrived, although more arrived as the evening went on.  Yet I still didn't know most of them, they were mostly friends of the Ginger Lawyer's flatmate.  I dragged out conversation with the few people I knew, and even a few others, for as long as I possibly could, but I was truly grasping at straws.  And then, although it was barely 9 PM, when I got a text from Sweetheart saying that he wasn't coming, I bailed.  I just couldn't manage to come up with any more polite conversation.

In fact, the only interesting person I really would have liked to talk to was the Ginger Lawyer himself, but he was too involved in being a good host, making sure everyone had a drink, for me to really get a chance to talk to him.  The only time I really got to talk with him at all, he mentioned a dinner he'd suggested we do in January.  And I'd just assumed that it would be a group of us going, but then as I spoke to him, I realised that he intended for it to be dinner, just the two of us.  How did I miss that?  Not that I'm opposed to the idea, it was just....surprising.

Still, not enough to keep me there, and so I was home by 10 PM.  Early night, but better than a dull party!

Lotte's Christmas Carols and Drinks

The hangover this morning wasn't too terrible, but when I woke up because the Tall South African was texting me, I basically texted back, "Leave me alone, my head hurts" and went back to bed for a bit.

I finally woke up later, got my life in order, and realised I needed to make myself presentable to go out to Lotte's annual Christmas party, which was a carol service by candlelight in the local church, followed by drinks back at her flat.

When I got out to the bus stop, I got out my phone to check when the next bus was coming, and as I held it in my hand, the Young Dutchman called!  It's always good to talk to him...  We chatted and he entertained me while I waited for my bus, as he apologised for being lame and going home last night, but he was apparently totally dead.  I tried to press him about his birthday plans, but he seemed as spacey and non-commital about those as usual.  Still, it was just good to chat and talk to him for a while, I miss how often we used to talk.

Finally the bus came, and I made my way to the church.  I spotted a few people I recognised in one of the pews, and so went over and joined them.  I didn't recognise the chap at the end of the pew, but he instantly greeted me by name.  Oh, so I guess you know me?  I found myself talking to Sophie about this later, how many people know us that we don't know back.

A short while later, another guy came and joined, sitting next to me on my other side, and I found myself engaging in a bit of light, flirtatious banter with him throughout the service.  Just whispering in-between songs and readings, the sort of thing that one used to do in high school that seemed so rebellious at the time but now seems almost innocent.  Although after a while I did start wishing that he would stop distracting me so much.  Yet I was charmed at the end of the service when he complimented my singing, as did a few others.  It's the one thing I love about this time of year, the opportunity to sing in church.

After the service ended, we all went back to Lotte's house, where for most of the time I found myself trapped in conversation with Neighbour Guy.  He's obviously got a huge crush on me, but between the rampant Republicanism and the occasional smoking, it's just never going to happen.  I ditched the guy who I'd been flirting with at church as well after realising he smoked as well.  Don't guys realise what a turn-off that is?

Before too long, I was pleasantly surprised to be tackled by a hug from behind, as the Tall South African had arrived.  Although we barely got a chance to talk, as every time we each turned around, there was somebody else interrupting our conversation.  I found we were constantly giving each other panicked looks across the room, desperately trying to escape the latest conversation we'd been dragged into (with me, far too often it was Neighbour Guy).

Although in a few brief moments we managed to steal with each other, he told me that he'd seen his Italian Ex that day, and that she'd declared to him that she missed him and was willing to move back to England for him if he would get back together with her.  Which of course, had thrown him for a loop and he didn't know what to do now.  Yikes.  Don't tell The Blonde!

Even though it was only just past 10 PM, when the Tall South African and The Blonde made to leave, I tagged along with them.  When we got outside, I saw that I'd missed a call from Joel, which rather bummed me out.  I never seem to get to catch up with Joel anymore!  So I called him back and left a message, and then caught the bus home.  Was back in my own flat by 11 PM.

Savile Inter-Club Christmas Ball

At dinner with Kellogg Boy

Today was the night of the Inter-Club Christmas Ball being held at the Savile Club, which I had spent far too much time away from work in the past few days organising.  Knowing that I would be out late this evening, I slept in, and then made a point of starting to get ready early, as I didn't want to be in a rush later.

Much of this effort was for naught however, when the Young Dutchman called me as I was getting ready to have a long, drawn-out, serious conversation about me potentially coming to work for his company.  It was a conversation I really wanted to have with him, and I appreciate that we haven't had the chance to have a long, catch-up conversation in quite a while, but why now?  His timing really was the worst!

At pre-dinner drinks

Still, after about an hour, I got him off the phone and went back to getting ready.  Although there seemed to be something about today, as after months with no contact, DM popped up, wanting to have a long, drawn-out conversation about how life was going recently.  And I'm always keen to talk to DM, but why today?  Why now?

Finally I managed to finish getting ready and ran to the club, running 30 minutes late.  Once there, I went looking for the chap from the club who I had been helping to organise this with, but got dragged into having a drink with the outgoing Inter-Club chairman instead.  Which turned out to be a poor move when the guy who was organising finally found me, as apparently none of the placecards for the table had been written.

So for the first half-hour of the champagne reception, I found myself trapped in a back office with him and his girlfriend, speaking German to his girlfriend (she was impressed), frantically scribbling out names.

With Kellogg Boy and another girl at our table

Finally, we finished with all of the placecards, and I finally thought I was free to go back out and make the rounds saying hello to people.  I managed to get out for a little bit, greeting the Young Dutchman and Kellogg Boy, and learning that the Young Dutchman's co-worker who had been due to join us was going to be a no-show. Irritating, given how many last-minute cancellations I had been dealing with, but I suppose there was nothing to be done about it, other than pop upstairs to flip around the seating plan to make sure that I wasn't stuck with a blank space next to me, but was seated next to the Young Dutchman instead.

Just when I thought all seating issues were resolved, the guy helping to organise grabbed me again, and dragged me down to where a girl was complaining on the seating chart that her friends didn't appear.  I realised with horror that I'd screwed up when printing out the seating chart lists, my last activity at work on a Friday night, and had accidentally listed Table 13 and Table 18 as the same table.

With an American friend and Hong Kong Boy

A quick dash upstairs to the staff (who had the correct seating plan), solved the problem, we scribbled out some new placecards for the missing table, and ran back downstairs to scratch out the names on the seating chart.

At this point, I was desperate for some champagne, and wanted to get a chance to talk to people, an opportunity I had been denied up to this point!  At last I did make my way downstairs, talked to a few people from my club, and was there just in time to see the welcoming speeches, and then join everyone on our way up to dinner.

Speeches and checking the seating plan for dinner

We went in to dinner, and I took my time making my way in to talk to people.  I stopped to say hello to JG and a co-worker of his, as I'd managed to arrange for JG to get tickets at the last minute, a favour which he was very grateful to me for.  Took me ages to finally get to my seat, as people kept wanting to stop and say hello to me, but eventually I managed it.


At dinner, I was seated inbetween Kellogg Boy and the Young Dutchman, and Kellogg Boy kept teasing me for appearing like a sentinel guard dog, constantly popping my head up to keep an eye on people worried whether everyone had a place to sit and was okay with where they were seated.  I have to admit, I was probably doing a pretty decent impression of a meerkat all evening.

With a friend going in to dinner

As we made our way through the first course, I started to relax, only to freak out when they were clearing the plates, to realise that a girl who had just that afternoon said she was cancelling, walk into the ballroom!  At least since the Young Dutchman's co-worker had failed to join us, I knew there was extra food, which was a huge relief.  The staff thankfully were incredibly smooth about the whole thing, finding her a place on the one table that I knew had spare space, and the problem seemed to go away relatively quickly.

With Hong Kong Boy at dinner

At this point however, I needed a drink more than ever.  Luckily, on our table was a chap from the Savile who seemed to continuously be able to acquire more wine.  I had a nice evening chatting with him and Kellogg Boy, as we rotated around the table throughout the evening to make sure everybody got a chance to talk with everyone.  Although I never did get a chance to talk to the fashion model seated directly across from me on our table, who mostly seemed to pick at her food and look miserable. I guess one more reason I could never be as skinny as a fashion model!

After dinner in the ballroom

The dinner was lovely, and afterwards I did get held up a bit by people coming by and wanting to talk to me, but eventually I made it downstairs to where the band was playing, and managed to say hello to a few more people.  I danced with one guy I knew for a bit, and then the Young Dutchman pulled me into his arms for a bit of a dance-off with Kellogg Boy.  Of course the two of them were going at it as usual, which was hilarious fun.  And the Young Dutchman is a good dancer and always makes for an excellent dance partner.

Everyone on the dance floor

I then found myself chatting with the Geneva Broker, this guy I had met at a polo match back in September.  And okay, perhaps I'd been a bit flirty with him at the time, and had caught him on Facebook chat a few times to continue our banter.  So perhaps unsurprising that he expected to continue the flirtation that we'd had going, although really, I was just in so many directions this evening, there was no chance for it.  Tonight was just not a night for hook-ups, there were too many people I knew there, too much stress, and too many eyes on me.  Still, he kept making me laugh by describing how much he liked my figure, and saying how it made him go, "Woof!"  Shouldn't have made me laugh as much as it did, but I still found it to be funny.

The gorgeous Savile ballroom

I spotted The Chap, who had somehow snuck in after dinner, and got to hear a bit about how he had fractured his wrist, the second person with a cast on that I'd seen that evening.  I introduced him to the chap at the Savile who was running things for Inter-Club, and hopefully they got on well to help organise events next year.

Then one guy, who we shall refer to as "The Ladies Man" because he had requested to sit on a table with as many women as possible, came up to me and kept kissing me repeatedly.  Apparently because he was quite drunk, but also because my seating plan had worked out extraordinarily well and he'd found himself with some quite pleasant feminine company for the evening.  Given that I'd purposefully put him on a table with some girls of "fast" reputations, I could guess how things had worked out for him.  Still, I was surprised at how many kisses on each cheek I got, and how thankful he was for my good work!

With the crowds after dinner

I then found myself, for at least the fourth or fifth time that evening, with my arms wrapped around a chap from my club, who I shall refer to as the Young Lawyer.  When I'd first met him, I thought he was rather cute, but he didn't quite seem to return the sentiment, and anyway I'd discovered that he was barely older than the Young Dutchman, so I figured we were just doomed to be friends.  He'd joined my committee, had always been cheerful and friendly, and so I'd counted him as a good friend.  Yet now with a bit of wine in him, he constantly seemed to have his arms around me.  And so at some point, as we were talking about the seating plan once again, I apologised that I hadn't realised that his guest was going to be a guy, and promised that I was quite dedicated to the goal of getting him laid.  Which caused him to raise his eyebrows and whisper in my ear, "How dedicated exactly?"  My goodness, I had never realised we were like that...  And so he insisted on getting my number, and when I got split up from him later, we were exchanging texts at 4 AM, with him insisting that I send him photos.  And all the while I was left wondering, "Where on earth did that one come from?"

Christmas tree at the Savile

I then found myself pulled into one last dance with Hong Kong Boy, another friend of the Young Dutchman's, who I have been out with many times before.  We slow danced while he drank whiskey, and it was a good last dance of the night.  But then it was 2 AM (already?) and everyone was wondering what we were going to do next.

In the bar with a Playboy Bunny

Kellogg Boy apparently needed a cab at this point, and since he couldn't get one quickly, I called my cab company for him.  But then I was dragged along with a crowd of other people, all insisting that we were going to the Playboy Club.  Having never been, I was quite curious to go, but I was still waiting for Kellogg Boy's cab to arrive.  Somehow, in a frantic last-minute rush, I got dragged away from the Geneva Broker (who wondered where I was going), pulled out the door by Hong Kong Boy, gave a quick kiss to the Young Dutchman (who insisted he was tired and heading home), and gave the number of the cab to Kellogg Boy.  It was all quite a bit of madness, and I hope it all worked out!

The Playboy Club

We arrived at the Playboy Club, and then headed in to the bar where we found quite a few of the others who had been out with us this evening.  I also couldn't help but notice that Hong Kong Boy had his hands all over the girl he had been seated next to at dinner, a girl on our table.  Who is lovely, to be fair, but perhaps didn't know that Hong Kong Boy lives with his girlfriend, who is currently in Australia?  I don't know, given that I've seen nearly all of my male friends cheat, even those who I believe truly love their girlfriends, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised.  But when he offered to buy drinks for the both of us, I held him to it, figuring that at least if he was going to cheat, he was going to pay for it somehow...

In the bar at the Playboy Club

Even the carpet had the Playboy logo on it!

We then decided to go exploring through the club, going upstairs to where they had gambling tables and a roof terrace.  The place was amazing in that it was obviously set up to be sort of every male's fantasy, with giant big screen televisions showing sporting games everywhere, big leather sofas to sit on and sink back into, and scantily-clad girls everywhere to bring you drinks.

The big leather sofas and the giant TV screens showing sports games

We went out to the roof terrace, which was cold, but Hong Kong Boy gave the other girl his jacket (oh boy were they flirting!) and another guy gave me his.  We sat out there for a while, enjoyed the air, and a few people had cigarettes.  Eventually it got quite chilly however, despite the heater, so we headed back inside, where a few of the boys decided to take a spin at the gambling tables.  After my experience with Fan #1 and Fan #2, I had no interest in it, but I was impressed when one of the guys doubled his money and then had the good sense to walk away from the tables.  Something you see so rarely, but quite impressive when somebody manages it!

On the roof terrace at the Playboy Club

Somewhat blurry shot of the gambling tables, given that I wasn't supposed to take it!

I also was quite fascinated by the girls outfits, and the patterns I was seeing.  Myself and the other girl were the only two girls in the entire club who were not bunnies (no surprise there), although the place didn't feel threatening or intimidating at all.  I was fascinated to see which gambling tables the men gathered around, as one girl who I thought was quite attractive had a nearly empty table (but an admittedly somewhat flat chest).  A girl whose table was constantly full, on the other hand, didn't have much of a face to recommend her, in my opinion, but I also doubt her chest could have been real, they were so large.  It really was one of those rare opportunities to see, "So this is what men REALLY want, I guess!"

Photo with a Playboy Bunny

Now at this point, I was enjoying being here, but the real point of being at the Playboy Club is proving that you were there.  And given that the Young Lawyer was now sending me texts asking where I was, and then asking for photographic proof, I had to provide some, now didn't I?

Luckily, the bunnies seemed to be very indulgent of this request, as I'm sure they get it a lot.  And I got the feeling that the girl I asked was much happier to be taking a photo with a girl who wouldn't glad-handle her, rather than some random creepy old guy.  Although as soon as I had my photo taken with a bunny, all of the guys wanted in on it too!

With the boys and the bunny

I also rather wondered if the girls really were that attractive, or if it was an effect of the outfit.  I wondered if I could get my hands on an outfit like that, would I look like that?  Definitely something interesting to ponder the next time I have a fancy dress party to go to!

I sent the photo on to the Young Lawyer, and then to the Tall South African as well for good measure. After all, I was sure he would get a kick out of the fact that I'd ended up at the Playboy Club at 3 AM.  Indeed, the next morning he was quite amused by it all.

With the Playboy Bunny

At this point though, it was nearing 4 AM, and I was exhausted.  Hong Kong Boy was still off in a corner with the girl from dinner, so I let them be, and let the other boys put me in a cab at 4 AM.  Such an excellent night, although over far too quickly!