SheBu Run for Queen's Day

Dressed in orange for Queen's Day

I was very excited for the run this week, as we were running from my home Tube station, so for once I wouldn't have to get on a train to anywhere, the fastest way to get to today's run was just to walk across the Green to the pub.  I never get to run close to home, so this was quite exciting!  So of course it was quite ironic that I was almost late, being the person who had the least distance to travel.

The theme of this week's run was that everyone needed to wear orange, as today was the day that the Netherlands got a new King, as Queen Beatrix abdicated in favour of her son.  Luckily I knew that I had an orange tank top somewhere, so right before the run I had to frantically dig under my bed in search of it.  It didn't fit at all and was horribly unflattering, but I was just going running, so I didn't think too much of it.  It was a cold day, and I debated wearing shorts or long trousers, but in the end opted for shorts, figuring I would wear orange legwarmers with them.  In a sign of what a good friend I am, I gave them to Kitty when she arrived having forgotten to wear anything orange.  Did mean I had to run fast though, as I was a bit cold throughout the run.

Setting off for the run

When I got to the pub, I got a great surprise when Pork Pie arrived!  I haven't seen him in far too long, and so was delighted when he gave me a hug and noted that he'd recently received a postcard from Paris.  That made me chuckle.

Then, as we were outside gathering for the run, I got another great surprise when Roofie's Brother arrived!  I hadn't seen him in well over a month, and we hadn't spoken in nearly as long, but I was surprised when as soon as he arrived, it was like we picked up the connection between us again instantly.

The run turned out to be quite the distance, nearly 10K, and it went at quite a pace.  Yet Roofie's Brother often kept pace with me, and when he would run off he'd always say, "I'll catch you up later", always looking out for me.

We stopped in Holland Park for a drinks stop, which also included pickled herring and Dutch cheese. Rather random, although I had fun chatting with Roofie's Brother at the stop, who was attacking the pickled herring as though it were the best stuff he'd ever eaten.  I tried it, and I had to admit it wasn't bad, but I wasn't quite the fan that he was.

Drinks stop

We then ran all of the way back to the pub together, with me thankfully managing to keep pace with him the entire way.  I talked to him about events he should come along to, and promised to get back into inviting him to things and just generally talking about interesting things we'd been to.  It's one of the things I like about him, is that he never puts me in a box for being posh or a snob, he's just really open to all sorts of new experiences, whatever they may be.

We ended up running past my place as we ran back to the pub, and I made a joke about how he would have to stay over sometime to check out the area, which he gave me a wink and a smile for as he laughed and commented that he was looking forward to it.  Just one of those amusing moments that reminds me that we're friendly, but a bit more there too.

Lots of orange at the drinks stop

Back at the pub, I convinced him to stay for a drink, and so got the first round.  We stood close, chatting to each other for ages, before going downstairs for the circle, where we stood together and made jokes along with Pork Pie about how Sweetheart seemed to be getting quite friendly with the girl he had invited along on the run.  Funny thing, as I remembered her from our "America Day" celebrations, but hadn't thought she was very interested in him at the time.  Intriguing...

Kiwi Girl, Kitty, and the girl Sweetheart invited at the drinks stop

After the circle finished, we went back upstairs, where Roofie's Brother bought us the next round, and so we continued to stay near to each other and chat, although we started to get interrupted by other people who wanted to talk to us.  Just when we thought we might go however, Pork Pie convinced us to stay for one more round after that, so we were pleasantly tipsy and having a good time with everyone.

Drinks stop in Holland Park

At last it was late (even for me!) and time to go, so I said I would walk out with Roofie's Brother and Sister Fister.  They wanted to stop to get kebabs, so I stayed with them, and laughed as Roofie's Brother asked the servers if he could try a jalapeño pepper.  He of course had an entirely predictable reaction, which was very amusing as he dealt with the heat and fire.

So as a joke, when they finished making his kebab and gave it to him, they stuck one more jalapeño pepper on top.  For some reason, despite seeing his own reaction when they gave it to him, when he stuck the pepper in my mouth, I just went ahead and ate it.

OMG, my mouth was on fire!  It was funny, as it didn't hit you at first, but then all of a sudden my eyes were watering as the heat overtook me.  This cracked Roofie's Brother up as we got to the Tube station and we ran into a few others, as he pointed to me with my watering eyes and exclaimed, "Look what I did to her!"  It really made everyone laugh.

Orange in the park

Finally, it was time for him to go, and so he kissed me and held onto me for a bit, although my mouth was too on fire to even really notice.  I walked home and ate some yogurt, trying to calm the burning fire on my tongue.  Lesson learned, don't eat jalapeño peppers, even when cute boys offer them to you!

Off to Paris

Working at a desk in Paris

My alarm went off at 4:15am, making me just want to cry, but there was nothing for it.  If I was to have any chance of being on the 7am Eurostar train to Paris, I needed to be on the first Tube of the day at 5:30am, which meant I needed to be up now to shower and dress.

The morning journey went smoothly, I got to St. Pancras with no problems, got through security and on the train, where all thoughts of working generally went out the window and I just passed out.  I slept fitfully on the train, before upon arrival in Paris, I got the Metro to the hotel, checked in, and even made a quick stop to buy postage stamps for the postcards I wanted to send from Paris. 

I checked into the hotel, got to my room, let my boss know I was there, and took a little bit of time to fix my appearance before going to meet her.  (I looked a bit worse for wear after travelling, I’m afraid!)

I must have looked presentable by the time I met her downstairs however, as her absolute first comment upon seeing me in person for the first time was, “You’re so pretty!”

Which, when you think about it, was quite possibly the most bizarre thing she possibly could have said.  After all, if you were meeting someone in person for the first time after corresponding with them for two months, you probably would have said, “So lovely to finally meet in person” or something to that effect.  But “You’re so pretty”?  A man would never have dared to say that, and it just still seemed strange coming from a work colleague. 

Still, I shook off my discomfort, and we grabbed a cab to the office.  Although in another twist, I found myself being the one to lead the way to the taxi rank, negotiate with the driver to give him the address, and just take care of everything.  This was to start a pattern throughout the week where I just ran the show on all small details like this, from cabs to restaurants to asking for anything.  It seemed a bit strange that the most junior person in the group was always the one to take charge, but my boss seemed to find it almost a funny joke after a while, that I was the one paying all the bills and running the show.  I remember when I was in Buenos Aires with my boss then, much the same pattern emerged, although that was understandable because I spoke fluent Spanish and he didn’t.  My French is non-existent however, so me being the person in charge seemed like a bit of an odd choice!

We got to the office and continued the pattern of me being in charge, so I was the one left to get our access badges, find the office, and so forth.  Maybe my boss was still in a daze after her red-eye flight, but it wasn’t exactly like I’d gotten a ton of sleep either. 

Touchdown desks in the office

When we were both starving (I hadn’t eaten since 4:30 AM in London), we went and joined the marketing contact who had also just flown in from Atlanta, and went for lunch.  I spoke to the waiter and got our table and everything, and then found myself explaining the menu as best I could to the both of them.  (Did I mention that I don’t speak French?)  Yet I did a lot better job on translating their dishes than mine, as when mine came out, it was a giant pile of raw meat!  No joke, it looked like they’d brought out a pound of raw hamburger meat and cracked a raw egg on top of it.  I couldn’t believe it.  Could this possibly be healthy or safe to eat? 

Yet, not wanting to admit my mistake to the others (after I’d so confidently ordered and translated their dishes), I gamely dove in and attempted to eat as much of the stuff as I could.  It absolutely turned my stomach however, as the battle between absolute starvation and stomach churning food battled it out. 

Finally we got to the end of the meal, where somehow it was up to me to pay.  Except my corporate credit card wasn’t working (I’d been thinking I needed to call Amex before I left, but had never gotten around to it), so I eventually just had to put the bill on my British credit card.  What a mess, although at least it seemed to amuse my boss that I was the one paying.  Thank goodness for putting things on expenses…

It was a strange lunch, with my boss and the marketing lady basically being bitchy and talking about other people who irritated them.  Now, to be fair, I definitely will bitch about people who annoy me with my closest friends, particularly when I need a rant.  Still, I wouldn’t dare do it in front of other people, particularly not a new work colleague who I didn’t know at all.  Quite frankly, it didn’t reflect well on either of them, but I kept that counsel to myself, obviously. 

Given that I hadn’t cared much for my meal, I was still quite hungry, but we had to power on through for the rest of the day, up until we were kicked out of our little office, and then had to go find other places to work.  I kept hoping that we might call it a night soon (one other guy e-mailed out that he had a place to go for dinner at 8:30, but we worked right past that deadline), until finally it was 11:30pm and my boss finally consented to leave the office.  I was tripping I was so hungry, although trying my best to maintain a cheerful demeanor.  Somebody had to, as my boss was becoming super grumpy, acting as though she were the only one stuck up working, even as I wanted to point out, “Ummm…you realise I’m still stuck here too?”

Stuck in the office at 11 PM

As we made our way out of the office, we discovered that it was absolutely abandoned, and we were literally the last people left in the place.  The front doors were locked up tight with a metal grate over them, making me wonder if we were going to have to sneak out through a tiny door the way I had in the past with my boss in Buenos Aires.  At last however, we found an open exit, and got out that way.  We got cabs back to the hotel, where I was ready to eat my arm, I was so hungry.  I had never done room service before, but I guessed I would have to, I was so famished.

So you can imagine my dismay when I went through the room and couldn’t find a room service menu anywhere.  Are you kidding me?

I debated just going to sleep hungry, but I realised there was no way I could manage it.  So although I was exhausted, I put on my coat and headed out into the night, hoping that I might encounter a McDonald’s or some late-night dining establishment before too long.  I had to walk for quite a bit, but finally spotted a kebab house down a dark alleyway.  I got a cheeseburger and chips for about 6 Euro, and then walked back to my hotel room with it, to wash it down with water from the tap.  Amazing to think I was in Paris, the land of amazing food, and I’d eaten two of the most miserable meals of my life this day. 

And now, with only a little over four hours to sleep, I crashed into bed as fast as I could.  

London Marathon

The crowds at the marathon

In the morning I got myself up and did laundry, with the intention of going out to watch the London marathon at around noon, when I could see all of the front-runners pass by the 22-mile mark, which is where my running club was meeting to cheer on the runners.  Noon passed, and my subsequent goal of making it by 1 PM was also for naught, until by 2 PM I found myself out by Tower Gateway to watch the race.

Handing out beer to the runners

I arrived as the 4-hour people were passing by, although I found that I wasn’t the only late arrival.  Devo had also just arrived, as had The Blonde, so I had good people to sit and chat with as we drank beer and watched the runners stagger on by us.  I noticed that almost all of the runners were wearing black ribbons, in obvious remembrance of the events in Boston less than a week ago.  Apparently they stood for a moment of silence at the start of the marathon as well, I thought a very touching tribute to those who died or were maimed in that tragedy. 

Runners wearing black ribbons for Boston

Devo was very kind and gave me some of his precious US-imported beers to drink, which were truly quite lovely.  I really enjoyed just hanging out and talking to him, as we randomly had conversations and watched the runners pass on by. 

Eventually around 3:30 PM, we decided that the straggling runners were no longer fun to watch, and decided to head to Waterloo, where the group has traditionally regrouped in years past.  I said good-bye to Devo, and he said he would cycle to the pub and see if he could beat me and The Blonde as we took the Tube. 

Massive crowds!

It was good to have a bit of a catch-up with The Blonde, for as much as I might raise eyebrows at her lifestyle choices at times, I really am quite fond of her.  She just makes me laugh, you know?  And truly does sympathise about the plight of the single girl in London, being one who suffers through it as well.

Straggling runners

She expanded a bit more on what she’d told me on the phone earlier in the week, that she’d finally broken up with the guy she’d been seeing, admitting that she just wasn’t attracted to him, despite his overall niceness and generally amiable character.  I had to admit, I could sympathise with how she described it, as I have as well far too often met that “really nice guy” who there is absolutely nothing wrong with, but you just don’t like them in THAT way.  I just wish she wouldn’t encourage them so much at the start, as it really seems to just sucker-punch these guys when she realises that she isn’t actually attracted to them.   Which does make me wonder how she ends up  sleeping with these guys only to decide a few weeks later that she was never really attracted to them. 

I'm in the background here, chatting with someone

We got to Waterloo station, where since I’d texted the Tall South African to tell him where we were going, he called to ask us to wait a few minutes until he could come join us, as he was unable to find the pub on his own.  Somehow the 2-minute wait took more like 10, and then he had a good laugh sneaking up behind me and tickling me when he arrived, which caught me quite by surprise.  He has such a devilish sense of humour sometimes! 

We got to the pub and I fell into conversation with random groups, although mostly with Devo.  The Tall South African and The Blonde seemed to be using the chance to catch up with each other, which was nice, as they claim that their relationship is a really solid friendship at this point, which I like to hear (even as I have my doubts about how truly “over” each other they are).  I did get quite the laugh when I looked over at one point and saw the Tall South African, The Blonde, and the most recent ex-boyfriend in conversation.  Boy that girl really knows how to bring awkward groups together!  I checked in with her privately at one point to see if she needed any rescuing, and she assured me that although it was tremendously awkward, she was managing it. 

Somebody took this picture of me in the pub, I don't know why

Finally though, they decided to head home, although I was still in the middle of pints with Devo, so I stayed. 

I was actually having a lot of fun chatting with Devo, where he showed me pictures of his flat with a giant Olympics statue that he’d bought at auction, we talked about making Manhattans, and he insisted that I needed to come back to his and we’d make Manhattans.  I finally begged off at the end of the evening (after he’d bought me FAR too many drinks and the room was quite frankly swimming), as I was aware of the hour growing late and my need to pack and get some sleep before leaving for Paris at the crack of dawn.  He was quite insistent that we needed to go back to his and make Manhattans, but the cloud of Paris hanging over my head made me be good and go home. 

It was only later that I remembered Devo mentioned that he’d dropped his wife off at the airport that morning, and had been being as affectionate with me as always.  It almost made me shake my head for a moment and think, “Devo’s married, he wouldn’t do anything.  Would he?”  Even with a place to himself, he wouldn’t do that, would he?  Although the fact that I’m even asking, and my poor track record with married men, perhaps tells you something.  Still, let’s blame it on too much alcohol and less than clear thinking with a less than clear head.  And I went home, so all is well.

He’d definitely bought me too many drinks however, as packing whilst tipsy proved to be quite the challenge.  Still, I finally got everything together and got myself into bed for at least a few hours sleep before Paris in the morning!

Sunshine with the Tall South African

I was awoken in the morning at 8:45 AM by a call from the Tall South African.  We’d agreed that we would meet at 10 AM today for a long overdue catch-up, although I wasn’t quite sure how firm those plans were.  Apparently they were pretty firm.  {Sigh!}

I got myself through the shower, although upon realising that there was no way I was going to make it to Bond Street by 10 AM, texted the Tall South African to tell him as such.  You can imagine my surprise then when I was still dashing about in my underwear, to get a call from him saying that he was five minutes away from my flat!  I did a mad tidy-up to make things as moderately presentable as I could, and threw on a shirt just in time to welcome him in when he showed up at my door. 

He flopped on my couch and gratefully accepted some water, apparently still quite hung over from the night out before.  He’d been out with the latest girl and gone to a few parties, before crashing at hers and then walking her to work in the morning. 

Once I was ready to go out, he insisted that we needed to take advantage of the sunshine, so we walked over to Holland Park, one of my favourite places to spend time.  We walked around the park for a bit, and then got coffees to sit in the sunshine and talk about life. 

He told me stories about the Italian ex, who apparently is still acting like a “current” girlfriend, which of course has him confused.  I find it funny, as the girl is 25, and I so distinctly remember being that age, and acting exactly like this girl is now.  Where you sense that things aren’t going quite according to plan, and so you think that by making yourself the most agreeable person possible and just acting like everything is fine, everything will be fine.  Not to say I’m an expert on what makes relationships work, but at least in retrospect I’m quite confident that such a technique is not the way to success. 

So he’s just in a mess, currently dating a girl who is starting to annoy him, while also “dating” the Italian ex, out of fear that if he tells her that he’s actually been with a ton of other girls while she thought they were together, he’ll lose her friendship in addition to the romantic relationship.  Alas, I think he might be right, that one could be irrecoverable.  I suppose it’s true what they say, that if you date your friends, there’s no going back, you’ve ruined the friendship. 

We sat there for ages, talking about whether we thought the other would marry, where we saw our lives going, and just those other “big picture” issues.  When we had drained our coffees to the point that we were really just sitting there with cups in our hands, I surprised myself by realising how much I was enjoying just spending time with him.  So although it would have been a perfect point to call it a day, I was only too agreeable to the idea of continuing to hang out to go get lunch. 

So we walked through the park for a bit, and then walked to High Street Kensington, where we took the Tube to Sloane Square.  Once there, we went to the Saatchi Gallery for lunch, which was a tad bit over-priced, but right out in the sun in the perfect spot that he’d picked.  I had to admit, the boy is a good date in that he knows how to find the right places. 

After lunch we went for a walk on the Kings Road, just wandering aimlessly, walking and talking, although I could tell you almost the exact moment that he needed a coffee, as he gets rather quiet when he’s tired. 

Sweetheart called and so I suggested he join us, so we hung out in the neighbourhood until he joined, and then walked to Green Park to join The Blonde, who was out babysitting for the day.  So I guess it was good that I had Sweetheart to chat to for entertainment, as the Tall South African was definitely paying more attention to The Blonde for a while.    

At around 5 PM, The Blonde had to take the kid home, and I was supposed to go to another party, and the Tall South African was supposed to pick up the girl he was currently seeing at work.  Except I figured I could be late to the party, and the Tall South African didn’t want to leave us, so we all went down to the South Bank to join some others at a pub on the Thames.  (The Blonde alas really did have to take the kid back home, no taking her to the pub!)

We got to the pub, where the Ginger Lawyer was hanging out with his flatmate and a few of her friends.  The time ended up mostly being me and the Tall South African hanging out together, either waiting around at the bar to be served (the queues were massive, so we always went with each other “to help carry drinks”, but mostly really just to keep each other company while waiting), or just standing and talking, often him resting his arm on my shoulder, I think making the point that I’m so much shorter than he is that I’m the perfect height for that. 

It was strange, as during one of our sojourns at the bar, out of the blue he suddenly commented on my age, pointing out that I really only look like I’m in my mid-20’s, the same age as him.  After correcting him when he tried to add a few years to my age, I at least got him on my correct age and realising that I am eight years older than he is.  As he mulled over that one (I swear we have covered our age difference before), I couldn’t tell if he was thinking that I was a lot older than he is or that it’s not nearly as much as he’d thought.  It was just the most random thing to start talking about, although sweet of him to keep noting that I look young for my age.  I know this is true, that I’ve aged well, although it was sweet to have him comment on it out loud at a point where I do start looking for wrinkles in the mirror.  I guess I was looking nice today and he wanted to tell me. 

We eventually just parted from the group and sat on some steps in the sunshine, with me just leaning up against him and the two of us talking about just how much we like spending time together.  I have to admit, I am lucky to have him.  Perhaps I take him for granted at times, but I really must remember how nice it is that there is this boy out there who likes to spend entire days with me, and I still find at the end of the day that he’s still the one I want to talk to.  We’re lucky to have each other. 

We were then joined by a friend of Sweetheart’s who I’d met at the “America Day” we had a few weeks back.  When she arrived, she kissed him right on the lips, same as he often does with me, which made me weirdly uncomfortable, and I couldn’t figure out why.  After all, it’s not like I would ever be interested in Sweetheart romantically, but I guess I’d just always thought that was “our” thing.  It was kind of an interesting thing to puzzle over, really, why it made me uncomfortable, when by all rights it shouldn’t.  Doing psychoanalysis on yourself is fun.

The girl the Tall South African has been seeing arrived, and I got the sense that he wanted me to get to know her a bit, but to be honest I didn’t notice her much.  I already know she’s not long for him (as soon as I figured out that she’d messaged him 15 times without one response, I knew she’d already killed her chances), as she’s just a bit too desperate and has given him too much power.  Even he admits that she’s starting to annoy him.  I think I probably didn’t help matters either after a day spent with me, I think he was suddenly realising how dull she was to talk to.  Sweet, but dull. 

As it was getting cold, we decided to head for an Italian restaurant that Sweetheart knew about and loves, although at this point I really felt the need to go to this party I was due to attend, as it was now 9 PM and the party had been going since 5.  Plus, I don’t know.  Something about the crowd, and Sweetheart being so affectionate with his friend who had just arrived, made me want to go.  The Tall South African still desperately wanted to spend time with me (he protested my leaving more than anyone), but I noticed at this point the numbers were odd, and I didn’t want to be the 9^th one out.  So I walked with the Ginger Lawyer to the restaurant (good to catch up with him, even for a little bit), and then firmly insisted on leaving them, even though the Tall South African was nearly throwing a tantrum by this point. 

I’d never imagined when I left my flat at 10AM in the morning that I’d need to be dressed to go out in the evening, but given that I was already four hours late for this party (and would be 5 hours late by the time I got there) there was no time to go home and change, I would just have to go out in jeans and trainers. 

As it turned out, that was fine, and I fit in reasonably well at the party when I arrived.  Thankfully I was greeted enthusiastically by the host when I got there, which was nice because all of a sudden I was reminded that he was the only one I knew there.  He introduced me to a few people, and I gamely tried to make conversation with a random French guy and some other random dudes, before managing to do okay for a while with a short guy who worked for the company that did London Duck Tours. 

I managed to keep that conversation going for a while and even learned a few interesting facts about London, but after a while I realised I’d just had it.  I talked to The Blonde about this the next day, and she completely sympathised, the dilemma of going out for an evening with friends you already know (so guaranteed good time, but also guaranteed that you won’t meet anyone with romantic potential), versus taking a risk on an unknown party (chance you might meet your future husband, but you also might not meet anyone you like at all and the party will be a total dud).  So given that my lenses were feeling a bit dry and I was blinking a lot, I just slipped out without saying good-bye (the host was well on his way to being so drunk as not to notice), and just went home although it was only just after 11 PM.  An early night, perhaps, but sometimes you need those.

Inter-Club Photography Contest

This evening was the Inter-Club Photography contest, an event I was responsible for organising as the chairman of the club.  In retrospect, I wouldn't do the event again, as it had proven to be much less popular than I'd hoped, an organisational hassle, and in the end conflicted with a different event I would have much preferred to go to.

At least on the upside, the Young Dutchman called to say he was coming, which was good in that I hadn't seen him in ages.  It would be good to see him in person to catch up.

Yet, it had been such a manic day at work, that all of my plans to attempt to arrive early and make sure everything was in place were for naught.  I barely had 20 minutes to do my hair, squeeze into my dress, and race out the door to make it to the club on time.

The photos on display

As I was dashing through Green Park, I got a text from the Young Dutchman, who had suddenly realised he had no cash on him, did I?  I had to chuckle, as at one point I was in a contest with friends to see who had lent the Young Dutchman more money over the years.  He's gotten better since he got his own job, but obviously he still has his flaws.  At least now that he is no longer a student, I'm a bit better about chasing him to pay me back...

I got to the club, madly sorted out the voting stickers, and then went about greeting the crowds who had arrived.  Which of course meant that I didn't have much time to chat with the Young Dutchman, although the pretence of circulating to hand out voting stickers to everyone gave me the excuse to avoid getting caught in conversation with any one person for too long.

With another girl at the event

Still, there weren't too many people there, which was a bit distressing.  So in a way, I just wanted to get the evening over with as soon as possible.  When I noticed people moving away from the main event around 8:30, I went and rounded people up from out on the terrace and in the Silent Library (no surprise I found the Young Dutchman there talking to a girl, but I'm so used to him chatting up women in his favourite spot that I just whistled at him and he came like a good boy).

I awarded the prizes, projecting my voice as best I could over my cold and applauding the winners, and then with all the key duties done with, just tried to enjoy circulating a bit and chatting to everyone there.

The Young Lawyer chatting

The Young Lawyer was present, and as he has been quite a bit lately, he was rather flirty with me.  I didn't quite understand this, as he seemed to have brought with him a girl with the most incredible short skirt, bleached blonde hair and fake tan (it was actually quite a sight to behold), but if she was his date, I was a bit puzzled by his behaviour with me.  I mean, I truly enjoy how he likes wrapping an arm around me and engaging in quite fun, flirty banter, but I have to admit to being quite puzzled about what he's truly after.

I retired down to the bar with the crowds at around 10 PM, got the Young Dutchman a drink, made the rounds and talked to everyone I knew, before heading out with the others at 11 PM, a rather early ending to an evening Inter-Club event.  Kind of a waste on the whole, but at some point you just have to understand when an event can't be saved.  At least now I know not to try that one again!

Dublin KSUC Ball

The Pepys Library at Magdalene, outside the dining hall

I woke up in the morning feeling quite ill.  I should know by now that shots are never a good idea, but it always seems to take mornings like these to remind me of that fact.  

I stumbled through the shower, only to realise once I got out, standing there with my wet hair, that I had forgotten to pack a comb.  I did my best to sort my wet hair out with my fingers, and then make it down to the old dining hall for breakfast.  It was so strange once I got there, as I expected to just grab a tray and run through the cafeteria line, like in the old days, but the staff insisted that I had to go to some special tables that they'd set up, completely laid out with tablecloths and cutlery.  It was truly bizarre, but I struggled through breakfast making polite conversation with the other people there, trying to get some food into my queasy stomach in the hopes of settling it somewhat.  

The gates of Magdalene

Only about 10 people (out of nearly 100 the night before) made it down for breakfast, although as soon as I had packed as much food into my stomach as I could manage, I returned to my room, packed my things, checked out, and then walked into town to buy a comb.  D'oh, what kind of idiot forgets that one?

Still, it was a lovely day to wander around Cambridge a bit, which in the sunshine is always one of the most beautiful places I can think of.  Just such a pretty place!

Magdalene by the waterfront

I took a bus down to the train station, where as I was standing on the platform, I realised I had missed a call from the Young Dutchman, to my great disappointment.  I always enjoy our catch-up calls so much.  Still, I got a pleasant surprise when I sent out a generalised e-mail to the Young Dutchman, Kellogg Boy, and Canadian Balliol Guy (the Three Musketeers), and found myself in an extended conversation with Canadian Balliol Guy, who is back in Canada.  I do miss that guy...

I caught the train to Stanstead, checked my bags, and got in the queue for the RyanAir flight.  I hadn't done one of these flights in a decade, and I swear they were even worse than what I remembered.  Thank goodness the flight was only an hour long, but even that tried my patience.  I was exhausted, but the seats didn't recline, a bit of annoyance that seemed designed purely to make the trip misery for the passenger.  I also did worry as the staff all had such thick accents that I couldn't understand them, making me wonder how useful they would be in a true emergency.  Thankfully, I reminded myself that I was flying BA on the way home.

When I got to Dublin, I was greeted by the friendliest immigration agent of all time, an unusual experience for going through immigration.  I think I might have been his first person of the day (at 3 PM), as he had to change the date on his stamp before he stamped my passport.  He actually had some fun joking with me, as he made to take out a giant stamp that would have taken up an entire page on my passport (and I'm running out of pages in my US passport!), but upon seeing my panicked expression, he laughed and pulled out the small stamp, as even he'd realised I didn't have that many pages to spare.  Probably the first time I've ever had fun making jokes with an immigration agent, and reaffirming the idea that the Irish are among the friendliest people in the world.

With Des

Because my friend Des is amazing, he'd arranged for a driver to pick me up, without me even asking.  He's just extraordinary like that, as that afternoon he'd written saying he was just double-checking my flight info and had given my number to the driver.  And when we got to town, the driver told me that of course Des had taken care of the cost, because he's just fantastic like that.  I almost feel bad sometimes that Des does so much for me, but sometimes he's a true saint who comes through right when I need him to!

With Des

When I got to the Kildare Street and University Club (the KSUC), I texted another old Oxford friend from my Balliol days who now lives in town, and he let me know he'd come meet me for coffee in 30 minutes.  I tried to do my hair the best I could in the time I had, and then made it downstairs to catch up with my old friend.

We went out for coffee and hot chocolate, and after I realised I'd forgotten my Euros back in my room, my friend assured me that he wouldn't have allowed me to pay anyway.  Goodness, I do love these Irish gentlemen!

It was really good to catch up with my old friend, who is doing quite well, and after doing well for himself working in finance has been taking some time off to figure out what he wants to do next.  I have to say, it always makes me happy to learn that my friends are doing well and happy.

My friend walked me back to the club, leaving me with just 10 minutes to change and get ready for the ball, which I'm pretty pleased to say I managed in 15.  Not bad, really!

Touring the club with our hosts

I found the boys in the club bar, and then joined them and two of our Irish hosts for a tour of the club.  It wasn't a large place, but not too small either, so we got to see quite a bit.  We then went to the upstairs bar for drinks, where I was introduced to our hostess for the evening, the Convener (what they call a Chairman) of the Younger Members at the KSUC.  She took it upon herself to introduce me to other people, including a cute paediatrician with a slightly American accent.  It turned out that he had been at Oriel College Oxford ("First in rowing, Last in women!" as he jokingly informed me), and that he'd also played polo at Oxford, which we bonded over.

At pre-dinner drinks in the bar

When it was time to go down to dinner, we got a photo with our group from the Oxford and Cambridge Club, which I was glad that we would have something for the Club News.

Our official group picture

Our hostess had seated me on her table however, which I was actually quite glad of, as I see the folks I know enough anyway, and I was glad to get to meet some new people.  I joked around quite a bit with the paediatrician, and really enjoyed the company of the others on the table.  The girl to my right really seemed determined that I should meet a nice Irish boy and move to Dublin, although I have no idea why she was so keen on that so soon after meeting me!

Our hostess giving her speech

Our hostess gave a short speech, and then we settled into dinner, which was absolutely amazing.  After dessert, she had the staff bring out both dessert wine and port, and we got absolutely silly drunk at the table.

After dinner, there was a dance floor with a DJ set up right in the club, and I was pleased to say that our crowd were among the first on the dance floor, absolutely killing it from the get-go.  I joined our crowds and danced for a bit, although also spent a bit of time in the bar chatting with Des and other random people.

Our club table

As the bar was getting quite hot, I went exploring in the outside areas, where I found much of our crowd, having a breather outside.  We all commented about how every time we all turned around, somebody else was shoving a glass of champagne into our hands, and we never had a chance to buy our own drinks all evening.  The Irish really know how to drink, and they were all determined to show us a good time!

Chatting with random people in the bar

Sometime around 2 AM? 3 AM?  I can't quite be sure, the dancing at the club finally ended, and a bunch of people were going out to a nearby nightclub.  To join the crowds, I walked out of the club without my coat, although I was still so hot from all of the dancing that I didn't notice.

At first I liked arms with the Paediatrician, but our hostess was on his other side, and seemed to be feeling slightly possessive of him, for reasons I wasn't quite clear on.  Yet regardless, I prefer a gentleman who is exclusively paying attention to me, so this wouldn't do at all.  I dropped his arm and linked up with another guy who I vaguely remembered had been sitting at my table at dinner.  He happily puffed up his chest and took on the gentlemanly role, and when he realised I was walking without a jacket, took off his own and draped it around my shoulders.  There is just something so wonderful about having a man offer you his jacket in the cold at the end of the evening, I swear that is really the only reason they need to wear them.

Taking photos on the stairs at 2 AM

We arrived at the nightclub and my protector sorted out my entrance fee, because I'm a girl and I don't pay for stuff.  (I swear, I one day want to add up how much money I've saved by mere virtue of being an attractive girl, it really does save you a pretty penny sometimes).

We got into the club where someone had arranged for a VIP table, although I was very vague on the details at this point, as I was just tipsy and following the crowds.  My protector pretty quickly got me a drink, and we stood around drinking and chatting, and when he disappeared, I found it was only to get me another drink.  I really should have been wise and switched to water at this point, but we only think of these things much later on...

Dancing the night away

At some point then, I found myself sitting on a couch with my gentleman protector, and was surprised when he whispered in my ear, "You're such an incredibly attractive woman, I shouldn't, but I can't help myself."  I was a bit startled, because right up to this point he was just some random guy I'd grabbed ahold of, I hadn't thought about hooking up with him at all.  (Idiotic I know, given the way I'd been leading him on, but I swear I often don't think about why men are so ridiculously nice to me at times).  It was only at this point that I really sat back and looked at him, and realised he wasn't bad-looking at all.

I shrugged to myself.  Why not?  I was on vacation and I hadn't had any fun in a while, so I was certainly game for a bit of play time.  I told him as much, that I was on vacation and wouldn't object to having a bit of strings-free fun while on holiday.  He seemed torn, so I told him it was his choice, and so went back into regular conversation, before he finally seemed to make up his mind, but said that we shouldn't be seen leaving together.

Fine with me, as that's one of the things the Young Dutchman has always taught me, is that you can get away with anything as long as you are discreet.  So he told me to give him a slight head start, and that he would meet me in the downstairs bar.

Dancing in the club

Yet somehow our plans never quite worked out, as when I extracted myself and got to the bar, I couldn't seem to find him anywhere.  Had we just lost each other or had he changed his mind?

After a few circuits of the club, I finally concluded that I had just lost him, and so then set myself to the task of trying to make my way home at 5 AM on the streets of Dublin, with no coat, while wearing a floor-length ballgown, and with no idea where I was.

As always seems to happen to me in these situations, some random guy came up to me and then decided to walk me home.  I kept up polite, if nervous conversation with him, realising that I was quite drunk and vulnerable alone on the streets of Dublin, but to my pleasant surprise, he walked me to the club and then politely left me there, perhaps picking up on my nervousness.  One thing about these Irish boys, they universally seem to be gentlemen!

Magdalene Reunion Dinner

Dinner by candlelight in hall

Although it is hard to believe, I matriculated at Magdalene College nearly 10 years ago, and so this evening was to be our 10-year reunion dinner.  Unfortunately many of my favourites weren't going to be there, but still a few people I knew were going, so I'd signed up to go join the crowds.

After work, I got the train up to Cambridge, and grabbed a cab up to Magdalene, noting with humour that there were many people in black-tie in the taxi queue, something that is sooooo Cambridge!

Dinner setting

I checked in at the porter's lodge, where I ran into my friend Doro quite by chance (since we matriculated in the same year, she was back up as well), and then we went over to Cripps court to find our rooms.  I had planned on meeting a German guy that I used to share a house with at this event, and got a pleasant surprise when I ran into him in the lobby.

Dinner menu

He came with me to check out my room (as the whole place had been built after we were students there), and then he left me to finish doing my make-up, promising to meet me at the drinks reception.

More of the old crowd at dinner

At the drinks reception, I did a double-take when I realised that the former Archbishop of Canterbury was just hanging out drinking with us, but then I remembered that indeed, he was our new college Master.  Still, very surreal to see this guy you see on the television all of the time just standing a few feet away having drinks with you.

Across the tables at dinner

We walked through the Fellow's Garden to get into hall for dinner, picking our way through the puddles as it was raining outside.  In at dinner, I was a bit annoyed to realise I had a blank spot next to me at dinner given that my friend Sophie had cancelled her trip from Switzerland at the last minute.  I always hate empty seats next to me at dinner, it is truly one of my pet peeves.

With my German Housemate

Still, even though I was mostly therefore relegated to talking to my old German Housemate, I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him.  We laughed and told lots of stories, and he even filled me in on some gossip from our student years of living together that I hadn't known about.  I'd always known that our little college was quite incestuous (I'm forever grateful that quite a few tales of my own indiscretions do not seem to have ever come to light), but even I was surprised by some of the stories he had to tell.

Tristan at dinner

The student elected to give the after-dinner speech did a truly great job, as he talked about how privileged we were to have had this great experience, to go to this outstanding college.  Some days I have to pause and remember how right he is, that this experience, this college really has made me who I am today, and I should never forget how lucky I am to have had that.  He made a crack about how the new Master got an honorary doctorate in the same year that he graduated, "...but I do not recall ever seeing him studying in the library."  That made everyone laugh, as well as his crack about this one guy we all know who is still at Cambridge 10 years later.

The new Master speaks

The new Master then gave a short speech and announced that there would be an open bar in the college bar, which made us all turn to each other and ask with raised eyebrows, "He does know this is Magdalene, right?  Does he know what we're like?"  Obviously not, otherwise he never would have turned a bunch of Magdalene kids loose on unlimited alcohol!  Particularly as I noticed that the crowd of people who had come back were all the ones who are still unmarried, who still party and have a good time.  We were definitely not the staid types who were going to go to bed early tonight...

With my German housemate

So I went to the bar with my German Housemate, where we got quite a few more drinks and I fell into conversation with a few other familiar faces, mostly the guys I know through Tristan.  I found myself doing shots with one guy I've known for a while, a Spanish guy who claimed I needed to stop talking so much, because he was such a sucker for my American accent and found it to be desperately sexy and attractive.  I laughed, although I'm not quite sure he was kidding!

At dinner

After the bar closed at sometime around 1 AM, a large group was heading off to a local nightclub that we used to favour when we were students, but mindful of the fact that I was already quite wasted and that I had to get up in the morning to fly to Dublin, I walked out of the bar with the group and then just quietly dissappeared.  I needed to get some sleep, somehow...

I still got one more surprise however as I made my way back towards my room, and wandered into the girl who had been sitting across from me at dinner in a full-on make-out session with another guy.  It was very funny, for this entire evening I had been incredibly amused watching nearly every man who encountered her acting slightly awkward around her, in the manner that is a dead giveaway that you've seen the other person naked.  Poor Tristan sat all of the way through dinner next to her looking distinctly uncomfortable.  I'd rather wondered if her reputation was still grounded in reality, and indeed, there was the proof...we may have left college a long time ago, but some things never change.  Glad to know however, that we all still know how to have fun!

Bermondsy Run

Despite that it is now April, the weather was freezing cold for this evening's run.  Which was unfortunate as the theme was supposed to be a "short shorts" run, but there was just no way.  I piled on the layers and long sleeves, and was glad to bring a pair of gloves besides.

I got a pleasant surprise as the run was to begin, when I realised that both Matt and Cookie were there!  As we were heading out for the run as well, Sweetheart dashed in late and gave me a quick peck on the lips.  So some fun people to run with at least...

We set out on the run which was set by a first-time hare, which meant it had the unfortunate pattern of being a nearly straight-shot along the river's edge.  It is the nature of how I run that I stink at sprints, and rely on the curves and changes of direction to slow people up enough for me to keep up with them.  Hence, I was quickly falling further and further behind the group.

As we were setting out however, I got quite the surprise when I saw a guy run past who looked a lot like a chap I know from my Magdalene days.  Yet, he was wearing a St. John's Boat Club jacket, so I wasn't quite sure if it was him.  When we ran past him a second time however, I couldn't help but shout out, "Is that Hastie?"  Got a good laugh when he looked up with surprise, saw me, and said, "Why yes, it is!"  Since we were running in opposite directions, we didn't get much of a chance to stop and chat, but it was still a good random run-in.  I almost wondered if he knew who I was, but when the results of my run automatically posted to Facebook (due to the app I use to track my runs), he commented, assuring me that he did indeed know it was me.  How funny!

As the run went on, I fell further and further behind the group, not aided by my knee, which was hurting somewhat.  Finally at the halfway point, I just gave up and decided to walk back to the pub.  Which of course led to me having a disgracefully slow time, which Joel commented on when he saw it posted.  There are definite downsides to posting your runs publicly!

When we all got back to the pub, I got a beer for Matt, and then mostly just hung around talking to Matt and Cookie.  We talked about trying to get out of there before the circle, yet got trapped in one end of the room and so had to sit through the whole thing.

Afterwards however, even though it was early, we all just decided it wasn't worth it to stay and headed home.  Brief run and brief night, in the end...