I’m not a happy bunny at the moment. The heating in our office has broken. The heating is quite temperamental at the best of times. Last week it got so hot that I felt like I was being boiled alive. Now this week it is far too cold. We have a little fan heater in the office, which we’ve had on all day. The only problem with this is that it makes you feel quite ill. As I write this I have my scarf on, and a big fleecy blanket wrapped round me, as well as fur lined boots (and bear in mind I hate wearing shoes when I’m at work). The engineers are apparently coming to try and fix it.
In the mean time I might just go home.
To add insult to injury, I was meant to be going out for a drink with the beautiful boy after work today, but he’s cancelled. And he’s moving to Australia next week anyway, so it seems like that’s not going to happen.
I feel really miserable today. I want to go home, and eat some lovely warm food while watching dvd’s in bed. That seems like the only option, seeing as the boy doesn’t want to go out with me. I just re-read that last couple of sentences, and I have a correction. I’m not miserable, I’m just grumpy. I think if they played some music in here, it would be a lot more tolerable. I could do with getting up and having a bit of a boogie.
I’m sure I must look like a bit of a weirdo, wrapped up in a lime green blanket, drinking hot ribena. I reckon the only solution is to go for a fag.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
A cynical synopsis of the weekend
I hate not having broadband at home as it means I’m always a few days behind in writing my blog. If I could write it as I went along I think I would be much happier, and also then I would be bothered to write more about what I’ve done or how I feel. As it is, I just feel like writing a list. I feel very lethargic today, I don’t know why. I fell asleep fully clothed last night, and slept really well. At about 2 I got up and took my clothes off, and continued sleeping well. At 5, I got up to have a glass of water, and after that I slept terribly and woke up feeling very strange. I also noticed that I’d bruised three of my fingers on my right hand.
On Friday I woke up to the sound of K blowdrying her hair. I was a bit disconcerted as she hadn’t brought a hairdryer with her, which meant that it must belong to T. I really didn’t want to get out of bed, as I’d only just got sufficient blanket. I think K wraps it round herself. Eventually I did, though, and I had a much needed shower. T’s bathroom is quite funny. There are three separate rooms, one with a bath and shower, one with the loo, and one with the sink. The shower didn’t have a shower curtain, so the bathroom was already quite soaked by the time I got in there (the others had their showers before me).
T doesn’t live all that far from work, so we walked in. We left his around 11, and after stopping to get a cup of tea, we finally got in at about 11:30, which I didn’t think was that bad. I had absolutely no intention to do any work, and told my colleagues so. They didn’t seem all that bothered. There’s normally four of us in the office, but on Friday there were just three, and that was only until lunchtime, when our numbers shrank to two. I sent off some emails, firstly to the Scot I kissed at the party, who’d actually emailed me first, and then to the guy I fancy. He emailed back to tell me that he’d just been sick in his bin. The Scot didn’t seem too awkward about kissing me.
During the course of the day, I went over to the beautiful boy's office twice. The first time was to see if he was okay after being sick in the bin. He said that he’d just drank a large coffee, without eating anything first. Poor thing. He looked quite pale, and he didn’t seem happy about the amount of work he had lined up. Later in the day I went back with some diet coke (it’s meant to be good for upset stomachs) and a crème egg. We had a hug, which I was (obviously) pretty pleased about. When he was going home, I saw him in the hall and he put his hand on my arm, and thanked me for looking after him all day. If he hadn’t been sick I would have tried to kiss him.
I got to the pub quite late after work as I had to call my little brother to wish him happy birthday. My mobile is terrible, and had run out of battery hours and hours before, so I used my work phone. Also, using my work phone doesn’t cost me any money. I was so tired when I got to the pub, I didn’t think I’d stay long. Myself and one of my gay friends spent a considerable amount of time proclaiming ourselves to be fabulous, and moaning about the lack of attractive men.
Approximately one bottle of wine consumed solely by me = not very clever. I ended up taking the tube to Brixton, and going to another bar. With the date-that-wasn’t guy. And then back to his. I eventually left his at about 4 in the afternoon, having spent the time shagging and sleeping. We had some really good sex, but I’m not sure that I want to see him again. It’s really mean, I know, but he’s far too small for me to take seriously (by small, I mean height- I did say it was good sex!). However, I was left with a nice memento of the night, with a bite mark on my back. Proper teeth imprints and everything. I was actually really chuffed because rather than being a typical man and not paying any attention to female anatomy, he took the time to see to my needs. I was so impressed. Clearly short men have their advantages. It's funny, out of all the people I've slept with only 3 (including this one) have ever made me come. The other two I was with for a considerable period of time (a year and 3 years, respectively), so it would seem that most of the one-night stands I've had have been crap. Like it was difficult for me to work that one out!
In one of my finest moments, I also managed to swipe his Madonna cd (the new album). Job’s a good’un.
Anyway, eventually home. Another gay friend was coming round to watch the X-Factor final, so I tidied up my room a little (it was an awful mess) while listening to the Madonna album, singing along to my hearts content. Two of my housemates were also in, so we decided to order a takeaway once my friend arrived. We were all backing Shayne (the hot one) to win. It was quite amusing as I’m not sure that one of my housemates had ever met a gay person before, or a Jew, and now a gay Jew was sitting in the living room! Everyone got on really well though, thankfully, and we had a nice time drinking sparkling wine and absolutely stuffing our faces with curry.
On Sunday, I arranged to meet friends in town to have a present handover. I felt a bit weird, a little out of sorts. I don’t know why. I even had a bath, to try and make myself feel better, but there was a power cut halfway through, which didn’t make me feel all that great. I even wore some very cool, fuschia-pink heels (not in the bath obviously, but when I was out), but I still wasn’t feeling all that great. I’d originally felt so great about having sex again, and thinking I was so cool, but by this point I just felt quite crap about it. Hadn’t I said that the next time I had sex it would be with someone I like? And the teeth marks had turned into a very fetching- and very sore- bruise, which definitely wasn’t very cool.
And then to top off the weekend, I fell asleep with all my clothes on, reading a book.
Today at work has been alright. Nothing too exciting. There was a fire drill, which meant we all had to go to the park and have a cigarette- well, the smokers did anyway. I chatted to the beautiful boy for a while earlier and arranged to go out for a drink this week, possibly tomorrow. He’s been feeling ill all weekend, and thinks that the sick-in-the-bin episode was due not to alcohol, but to the malaria tablets he’s been taking. I’ve spent a lot of time today in the smoking room, and very little time doing anything productive.
I still haven’t done my Christmas shopping. Hopefully I will feel happier tomorrow- especially if I do get to go out with the beautiful boy after work. I’m seeing some old friends on Wednesday, and meeting up with a girl from uni on Thursday, before heading off to my parents for another action packed Christmas in the countryside. Can you sense my enthusiasm??
On Friday I woke up to the sound of K blowdrying her hair. I was a bit disconcerted as she hadn’t brought a hairdryer with her, which meant that it must belong to T. I really didn’t want to get out of bed, as I’d only just got sufficient blanket. I think K wraps it round herself. Eventually I did, though, and I had a much needed shower. T’s bathroom is quite funny. There are three separate rooms, one with a bath and shower, one with the loo, and one with the sink. The shower didn’t have a shower curtain, so the bathroom was already quite soaked by the time I got in there (the others had their showers before me).
T doesn’t live all that far from work, so we walked in. We left his around 11, and after stopping to get a cup of tea, we finally got in at about 11:30, which I didn’t think was that bad. I had absolutely no intention to do any work, and told my colleagues so. They didn’t seem all that bothered. There’s normally four of us in the office, but on Friday there were just three, and that was only until lunchtime, when our numbers shrank to two. I sent off some emails, firstly to the Scot I kissed at the party, who’d actually emailed me first, and then to the guy I fancy. He emailed back to tell me that he’d just been sick in his bin. The Scot didn’t seem too awkward about kissing me.
During the course of the day, I went over to the beautiful boy's office twice. The first time was to see if he was okay after being sick in the bin. He said that he’d just drank a large coffee, without eating anything first. Poor thing. He looked quite pale, and he didn’t seem happy about the amount of work he had lined up. Later in the day I went back with some diet coke (it’s meant to be good for upset stomachs) and a crème egg. We had a hug, which I was (obviously) pretty pleased about. When he was going home, I saw him in the hall and he put his hand on my arm, and thanked me for looking after him all day. If he hadn’t been sick I would have tried to kiss him.
I got to the pub quite late after work as I had to call my little brother to wish him happy birthday. My mobile is terrible, and had run out of battery hours and hours before, so I used my work phone. Also, using my work phone doesn’t cost me any money. I was so tired when I got to the pub, I didn’t think I’d stay long. Myself and one of my gay friends spent a considerable amount of time proclaiming ourselves to be fabulous, and moaning about the lack of attractive men.
Approximately one bottle of wine consumed solely by me = not very clever. I ended up taking the tube to Brixton, and going to another bar. With the date-that-wasn’t guy. And then back to his. I eventually left his at about 4 in the afternoon, having spent the time shagging and sleeping. We had some really good sex, but I’m not sure that I want to see him again. It’s really mean, I know, but he’s far too small for me to take seriously (by small, I mean height- I did say it was good sex!). However, I was left with a nice memento of the night, with a bite mark on my back. Proper teeth imprints and everything. I was actually really chuffed because rather than being a typical man and not paying any attention to female anatomy, he took the time to see to my needs. I was so impressed. Clearly short men have their advantages. It's funny, out of all the people I've slept with only 3 (including this one) have ever made me come. The other two I was with for a considerable period of time (a year and 3 years, respectively), so it would seem that most of the one-night stands I've had have been crap. Like it was difficult for me to work that one out!
In one of my finest moments, I also managed to swipe his Madonna cd (the new album). Job’s a good’un.
Anyway, eventually home. Another gay friend was coming round to watch the X-Factor final, so I tidied up my room a little (it was an awful mess) while listening to the Madonna album, singing along to my hearts content. Two of my housemates were also in, so we decided to order a takeaway once my friend arrived. We were all backing Shayne (the hot one) to win. It was quite amusing as I’m not sure that one of my housemates had ever met a gay person before, or a Jew, and now a gay Jew was sitting in the living room! Everyone got on really well though, thankfully, and we had a nice time drinking sparkling wine and absolutely stuffing our faces with curry.
On Sunday, I arranged to meet friends in town to have a present handover. I felt a bit weird, a little out of sorts. I don’t know why. I even had a bath, to try and make myself feel better, but there was a power cut halfway through, which didn’t make me feel all that great. I even wore some very cool, fuschia-pink heels (not in the bath obviously, but when I was out), but I still wasn’t feeling all that great. I’d originally felt so great about having sex again, and thinking I was so cool, but by this point I just felt quite crap about it. Hadn’t I said that the next time I had sex it would be with someone I like? And the teeth marks had turned into a very fetching- and very sore- bruise, which definitely wasn’t very cool.
And then to top off the weekend, I fell asleep with all my clothes on, reading a book.
Today at work has been alright. Nothing too exciting. There was a fire drill, which meant we all had to go to the park and have a cigarette- well, the smokers did anyway. I chatted to the beautiful boy for a while earlier and arranged to go out for a drink this week, possibly tomorrow. He’s been feeling ill all weekend, and thinks that the sick-in-the-bin episode was due not to alcohol, but to the malaria tablets he’s been taking. I’ve spent a lot of time today in the smoking room, and very little time doing anything productive.
I still haven’t done my Christmas shopping. Hopefully I will feel happier tomorrow- especially if I do get to go out with the beautiful boy after work. I’m seeing some old friends on Wednesday, and meeting up with a girl from uni on Thursday, before heading off to my parents for another action packed Christmas in the countryside. Can you sense my enthusiasm??
Friday, December 16, 2005
Office Christmas party
Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
Office Christmas party. That’s never a good thing. It all kicked off quite early, as it was four people’s leaving do’s. I’d decided to be brave and wear a dress, so I was looking pretty foxy, it must be said. The dress is purple satin-like material, strapless, with a net skirt underneath. I had a little sparkly cardigan on top. To complete the look I had my pink boots on. I thought that would make it easier to walk, rather than heels, and it played down the dress as well- I didn’t want to look too dressy.
Anyway, I got right in there with the wine, and had a couple of canapés. I sat down, and my friend immediately tried to convince me to throw an X-Factor Final party.
Because you can’t smoke in the boardroom, I spent a fair bit of time walking to and from the smoking room, where there seemed to be a separate party going on. I kept my eyes open for the guy on my corridor who I quite fancy. When he showed up, I spent quite a lot of time talking to him, until I got dragged off to dance.
It was quite strange with the guy from my corridor. At one point I went to the smoking room and was told that he’d been in there looking for me, so I ran off to catch up with him. We went to his office, to admire the plants, and then went to my office, where we sat on the desk and drank and chatted. It all seemed to be going really well. But then, when he was leaving (he had another party to go to), something strange happened. At that point where you think you’re going to kiss, and you get the butterflies and everything… nothing. I got a hug. I was left feeling decidedly odd.
Of course, the solution to this, in my eyes, was to have another drink. I went back to the smoking room and sat on the floor. I started feeling really dodgy, and went to the loo. Thankfully I got there just in time, where I regurgitated all the wine and canapés. My friend got me some water, but I wouldn’t let anyone come in. I like to think I have some dignity. Soon I felt alright, and I had my toothbrush and toothpaste with me, so I brushed my teeth. This is not the first time I have been sick at a party, hence the provisions.
Back in there, I found some eyeliner on the floor and decided to draw some on an unsuspecting colleague. I chased him into the kitchen, but he ran away before I could do more than draw a big black line across his cheek. Another guy, a Scottish man who also works with me, had tried to help me. Before I knew what was happening, we were kissing pretty passionately. After a while he broke off, saying, “Ah cannae do this. You’re a beautiful wee lassie, ah think you’re really attractive. But ah’m sorta seeing someone”.
What he meant by this, which I didn’t know until much later, was that he had a girlfriend of three years that he lived with. We agreed to be amicable about it all though.
Pretty soon the party was over and we headed of to Belushi’s. I’ve actually missed out something there. I kissed the biggest sleaze in the office. Nice move.
Anyway, Belushi’s, for those not in the know, is possibly the biggest dive in London. It’s a bar on Borough High Street, full of pissed arseholes, where we invariably end up as it’s open late and close to the office. What a shithole. We didn’t stay there long, but had a little dance.
When we left, some others were getting a cab back to south London. Me being a clever girl DIDN’T go with them. Instead I decided that I wanted to stay at T's. The only problem with this was that T and K had already left. I knew it would be fine, and rang to check. I started walking up to London Bridge with the Scot and the sleaze.
At London Bridge, there were no taxis. The Scot and I arranged to go for a hot chocolate together next week. Soon enough- and I know this is bad- we were snogging like randy teenagers at the bus stop. It’s bad, yes, but I’m not the one in a relationship, and anyway, we couldn’t really help ourselves. We get on really well, though we don’t know each other that well. But obviously we also fancied a bit of each other last night, hence all the furious kissing.
I eventually hailed a taxi by standing in the middle of the road near Monument station, smoking a fag and swearing loudly. A guy ran over to ask if I wanted to share a cab, as we were going the same way. Obviously he was impressed by my style. He was nice, and we had quite a laugh. He asked if I wanted to stay at his, but I said no, as I am a lady (hahaha). He gave me his card anyway and we’re going to go out for a drink.
Finally at T’s. He let me in, wearing only his pants. As I took my lenses out (good girl) I told them what I’d been up to, and T told me that he’d nearly had sex in the office with a girl from his department. He lent me a pyjama top- K had the bottoms on already- and I climbed into bed. There wasn’t a huge amount of space as there were the three of us in one bed, and I didn’t get much blanket. Nevertheless, I fell in to one of those sleeps that you only have when you’re pissed.
Merry Christmas.
Office Christmas party. That’s never a good thing. It all kicked off quite early, as it was four people’s leaving do’s. I’d decided to be brave and wear a dress, so I was looking pretty foxy, it must be said. The dress is purple satin-like material, strapless, with a net skirt underneath. I had a little sparkly cardigan on top. To complete the look I had my pink boots on. I thought that would make it easier to walk, rather than heels, and it played down the dress as well- I didn’t want to look too dressy.
Anyway, I got right in there with the wine, and had a couple of canapés. I sat down, and my friend immediately tried to convince me to throw an X-Factor Final party.
Because you can’t smoke in the boardroom, I spent a fair bit of time walking to and from the smoking room, where there seemed to be a separate party going on. I kept my eyes open for the guy on my corridor who I quite fancy. When he showed up, I spent quite a lot of time talking to him, until I got dragged off to dance.
It was quite strange with the guy from my corridor. At one point I went to the smoking room and was told that he’d been in there looking for me, so I ran off to catch up with him. We went to his office, to admire the plants, and then went to my office, where we sat on the desk and drank and chatted. It all seemed to be going really well. But then, when he was leaving (he had another party to go to), something strange happened. At that point where you think you’re going to kiss, and you get the butterflies and everything… nothing. I got a hug. I was left feeling decidedly odd.
Of course, the solution to this, in my eyes, was to have another drink. I went back to the smoking room and sat on the floor. I started feeling really dodgy, and went to the loo. Thankfully I got there just in time, where I regurgitated all the wine and canapés. My friend got me some water, but I wouldn’t let anyone come in. I like to think I have some dignity. Soon I felt alright, and I had my toothbrush and toothpaste with me, so I brushed my teeth. This is not the first time I have been sick at a party, hence the provisions.
Back in there, I found some eyeliner on the floor and decided to draw some on an unsuspecting colleague. I chased him into the kitchen, but he ran away before I could do more than draw a big black line across his cheek. Another guy, a Scottish man who also works with me, had tried to help me. Before I knew what was happening, we were kissing pretty passionately. After a while he broke off, saying, “Ah cannae do this. You’re a beautiful wee lassie, ah think you’re really attractive. But ah’m sorta seeing someone”.
What he meant by this, which I didn’t know until much later, was that he had a girlfriend of three years that he lived with. We agreed to be amicable about it all though.
Pretty soon the party was over and we headed of to Belushi’s. I’ve actually missed out something there. I kissed the biggest sleaze in the office. Nice move.
Anyway, Belushi’s, for those not in the know, is possibly the biggest dive in London. It’s a bar on Borough High Street, full of pissed arseholes, where we invariably end up as it’s open late and close to the office. What a shithole. We didn’t stay there long, but had a little dance.
When we left, some others were getting a cab back to south London. Me being a clever girl DIDN’T go with them. Instead I decided that I wanted to stay at T's. The only problem with this was that T and K had already left. I knew it would be fine, and rang to check. I started walking up to London Bridge with the Scot and the sleaze.
At London Bridge, there were no taxis. The Scot and I arranged to go for a hot chocolate together next week. Soon enough- and I know this is bad- we were snogging like randy teenagers at the bus stop. It’s bad, yes, but I’m not the one in a relationship, and anyway, we couldn’t really help ourselves. We get on really well, though we don’t know each other that well. But obviously we also fancied a bit of each other last night, hence all the furious kissing.
I eventually hailed a taxi by standing in the middle of the road near Monument station, smoking a fag and swearing loudly. A guy ran over to ask if I wanted to share a cab, as we were going the same way. Obviously he was impressed by my style. He was nice, and we had quite a laugh. He asked if I wanted to stay at his, but I said no, as I am a lady (hahaha). He gave me his card anyway and we’re going to go out for a drink.
Finally at T’s. He let me in, wearing only his pants. As I took my lenses out (good girl) I told them what I’d been up to, and T told me that he’d nearly had sex in the office with a girl from his department. He lent me a pyjama top- K had the bottoms on already- and I climbed into bed. There wasn’t a huge amount of space as there were the three of us in one bed, and I didn’t get much blanket. Nevertheless, I fell in to one of those sleeps that you only have when you’re pissed.
Merry Christmas.
Road trip to Europe: part 4
Poland, once we were finally there, was really cool. It was nowhere near as cold as I thought it would be. In fact, I think it's possibly colder here. Our first priority was to get in the shower and change our clothes. I was so glad that I had exfoliating soap. I think I shed an entire laying of skin.
Gdansk nightlife doesn't really compare to London's. We'd made a list of all the bars we wanted to go to, and we tried them all out. We were drinking the nicest drink- Zubrowka with apple juice. Two of these drinks only cost 13 zloty (just over £2) and we probably drank about 15 of these on the first night alone. Some of the places we went to while in Gdansk:
- Cafe Mariacka: run by a husband and wife, this chintzy little cafe served up cabbage dumplings (for me) and sausages (for K). The owners gave us a postcard of the cafe, which had a photo of them standing proudly behind the bar.
- another cafe on Mariacka (the cutest street in the world), with quite a cute barman. We got some more food and zubrowka here. I had cheese soup, which sounds horrible, but was actually really nice. If I had a cafe, I'd want it to look just like this.
- Cafe Absinthe: this one took us quite a long time to find, and when we got there, there was nowhere to sit. We perched on the end of a table where some very moody boys were sitting. I can imagine it being quite cool later but it was a little souless when we were there.
- Plastykon: this place was pretty cool. It was quite dingy, and had big comfy sofas. We managed to nab the nicest one, and settled down into it, zubrowka in hand.
- Club 80's: what a fantastic idea, a club playing only 80's music. We loved this one, we danced until five in the morning. This is where we met Magit #1. He was trying- I emphasise the word TRYING- to chat us up, but he was doing a particularly poor job of it. His English wasn't great, so if we said something too quickly (which was most things, to be fair) he would stop us with the immortal line: "again.... and slow". He wouldn't believe that K was from the UK. I asked him if Poland had ethnic minorities and he said that of course they did, they had Ukrainians and Germans. We didn't see any black or asian people the whole time we were there- except at the airport!! At one point, we saw the most blatant prostitute, dancing with quite a smug looking man in a leather jacket. Classy. Oh, and K got hit on by a lesbian.
- Soda cafe: we had some really nice food here. The place was decorated like a christmas grotto. They had possibly the coolest baubles I've ever seen- glass, with a white feather inside. They were gorgeous.
- Yesterday: an indie club, made fabulous by us meeting Magit #2 and Artur. We had a real blast dancing with them. They had a friend with them who wouldn't speak, and didn't even take his coat off. Magit was so funny, when he didn't understand a word he would repeat it, as a question. He asked us where we worked... the conversation went a little like this:
"It's in the government"
"Government??"
"You know what the parliament is?"
"Parliament??"
"Hmmm... where the prime minister works"
"Minister??"
"Like the president..."
"You are president???"
"No no no... Okay, you know the White House?"
"You work in White House??"
"No, but like the British version of that... kind of..."
I danced mainly with Artur, who was so funny. We did lots of comedy dancing.
- Amber shops on Mariacka: these were lovely. There was some really nice stuff. There was also some really tacky, awful stuff. Like model boats made out of amber.
- Matarnia shopping outlet: it was astandard out-of-town shopping outlet... except it had a pet shop! There were the tiniest hamsters I have ever seen, no bigger than my thumb. Better still, there were chinchillas! K was completely hooked by these little furry bundles. She wants to get one, though she did point out that they were the only other living beings with slanty eyes that we'd seen in Poland!
- Green Way: the most amazing vege restaurant. It was ridiculously cheap, for a huge mountain of delicious, filling vege food and salads. Freshly squeezed orange juice, too.
In all, we had a really good time. We took taxis most places, as they were so cheap. We didn't always get Hello Taxis, but we much preferred them, just for the name.
We're going to go back to Poland. I think we're going to plan a week long mini-interrail, with T and other people. That would be a lot of fun, we could have a whole room in a hostel. I'm not sure when that would be though, as I'm completely. I love travelling, I need to do more of it. Next time I won't take so much stuff though. I only had a small rucksack and a shoulder bag, but I could have got away with having far less. If we go in summer, then all I need is a couple of changes of tshirts, and maybe some shorts, as well as my washbag. I'm going to see just how little I can get away with travelling with.
But that will have to wait... I must stop going on the Ryanair website...
Gdansk nightlife doesn't really compare to London's. We'd made a list of all the bars we wanted to go to, and we tried them all out. We were drinking the nicest drink- Zubrowka with apple juice. Two of these drinks only cost 13 zloty (just over £2) and we probably drank about 15 of these on the first night alone. Some of the places we went to while in Gdansk:
- Cafe Mariacka: run by a husband and wife, this chintzy little cafe served up cabbage dumplings (for me) and sausages (for K). The owners gave us a postcard of the cafe, which had a photo of them standing proudly behind the bar.
- another cafe on Mariacka (the cutest street in the world), with quite a cute barman. We got some more food and zubrowka here. I had cheese soup, which sounds horrible, but was actually really nice. If I had a cafe, I'd want it to look just like this.
- Cafe Absinthe: this one took us quite a long time to find, and when we got there, there was nowhere to sit. We perched on the end of a table where some very moody boys were sitting. I can imagine it being quite cool later but it was a little souless when we were there.
- Plastykon: this place was pretty cool. It was quite dingy, and had big comfy sofas. We managed to nab the nicest one, and settled down into it, zubrowka in hand.
- Club 80's: what a fantastic idea, a club playing only 80's music. We loved this one, we danced until five in the morning. This is where we met Magit #1. He was trying- I emphasise the word TRYING- to chat us up, but he was doing a particularly poor job of it. His English wasn't great, so if we said something too quickly (which was most things, to be fair) he would stop us with the immortal line: "again.... and slow". He wouldn't believe that K was from the UK. I asked him if Poland had ethnic minorities and he said that of course they did, they had Ukrainians and Germans. We didn't see any black or asian people the whole time we were there- except at the airport!! At one point, we saw the most blatant prostitute, dancing with quite a smug looking man in a leather jacket. Classy. Oh, and K got hit on by a lesbian.
- Soda cafe: we had some really nice food here. The place was decorated like a christmas grotto. They had possibly the coolest baubles I've ever seen- glass, with a white feather inside. They were gorgeous.
- Yesterday: an indie club, made fabulous by us meeting Magit #2 and Artur. We had a real blast dancing with them. They had a friend with them who wouldn't speak, and didn't even take his coat off. Magit was so funny, when he didn't understand a word he would repeat it, as a question. He asked us where we worked... the conversation went a little like this:
"It's in the government"
"Government??"
"You know what the parliament is?"
"Parliament??"
"Hmmm... where the prime minister works"
"Minister??"
"Like the president..."
"You are president???"
"No no no... Okay, you know the White House?"
"You work in White House??"
"No, but like the British version of that... kind of..."
I danced mainly with Artur, who was so funny. We did lots of comedy dancing.
- Amber shops on Mariacka: these were lovely. There was some really nice stuff. There was also some really tacky, awful stuff. Like model boats made out of amber.
- Matarnia shopping outlet: it was astandard out-of-town shopping outlet... except it had a pet shop! There were the tiniest hamsters I have ever seen, no bigger than my thumb. Better still, there were chinchillas! K was completely hooked by these little furry bundles. She wants to get one, though she did point out that they were the only other living beings with slanty eyes that we'd seen in Poland!
- Green Way: the most amazing vege restaurant. It was ridiculously cheap, for a huge mountain of delicious, filling vege food and salads. Freshly squeezed orange juice, too.
In all, we had a really good time. We took taxis most places, as they were so cheap. We didn't always get Hello Taxis, but we much preferred them, just for the name.
We're going to go back to Poland. I think we're going to plan a week long mini-interrail, with T and other people. That would be a lot of fun, we could have a whole room in a hostel. I'm not sure when that would be though, as I'm completely. I love travelling, I need to do more of it. Next time I won't take so much stuff though. I only had a small rucksack and a shoulder bag, but I could have got away with having far less. If we go in summer, then all I need is a couple of changes of tshirts, and maybe some shorts, as well as my washbag. I'm going to see just how little I can get away with travelling with.
But that will have to wait... I must stop going on the Ryanair website...
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Road trip to Europe: part 3
Finally it rolled round to 6:40 at Berlin Ostbahnhof and we got on our train. It was one of those old types, with seperate compartments. There were none vacant, so we had to share with quite a grumpy man. It was very warm and comfortable on the train, and we were asleep within five minutes.
We were woken up by a ticket inspector, who wouldn't sell us through tickets to Poznan for some reason. He insisted on seeing our passports, but only sold us tickets to Frankfurt am Oder. I was too sleepy to argue, and didn't want to risk any more filthy looks from the grumpy man. I was soon asleep again, only to be woken at the Polish border by some gruff guards, demanding to see passports. They examined them quite closely, with smirks on their faces. I don't know why, as my passport photo is actually really good. Nevertheless, I was soon asleep again. The next time I was woken up was by a Polish ticket inspector, who spoke terrible German. The grumpy man had by this point disappeared, which made me slightly worried as he was travelling to Poznan too. I presume he got fed up of sharing his compartment with two sleeping girls. What a hard life it must have been for him.
At around 9:40 we pulled up into Poznan. It was a very bleak station, very grey and stark. The platforms were only raised about a foot from the level of the tracks, which meant you had to clamber down from quite a height. We had to cross onto the other platform, where the ticket office was, and I wanted to just skip accross the track instead of going up onto the ridiculously high footbridge. No one else seemed to be taking this shortcut though, and I knew that sod's law would dictate that I would be hit by a speeding train. In the ticket office there appeared to be no members of staff hanging around to answer questions, but luckily K was a little more sensible than me and actually checked the departure board. There was a train going to Gdynia, and we thought that this must go to Gdansk too. Sure enough, it was, and we climbed (literally) on board.
This train was dusty and quite full. We found a compartment with two seats, and settled down. When the ticket inspector came round, we faced a small problem in that we don't know a single word of Polish. A kind girl in our compartment- probably late teens or early twenties, looked a little like Maria Sharapova- translated for us, and we were able to get the tickets. Looking out at the Polish landscape, I was struck by one thing: the lack of colour. I'd read that Poland is a very green country, but to me it seemed only grey. Even the sky was grey. There were lots of allotments with sheds in various states of disarray. We passed through towns (grey, bleak, univiting), villages (cute, rustic, but still grey), fields (either plain mud or snow covered) and forests (some had snow on the ground- these were the most attractive). As time passed, the amount of snow we saw increased, to the point where the world seeemed covered in a white blanket. I was a bit worried that Gdansk would be too cold. When I went to Berlin three years ago it was really cold, -15 on some days. That was awful, you needed to wear two pairs of trousers just to get around. The train went quite slowly as far as Bydgoszcz, where most of the people sharing our compartment got out. Then it picked up some speed, and it didn't take all that much time to get to Gdansk.
However, as we pulled into Gdansk, there was no snow. Architecturally- at least from the train- Gdansk seemed nicer than Poznan, or Bydgoszcz. We got out of the train and hugged each other. Finally!! Outside the station we hailed a "Hello Taxi"- our first of many. We showed the driver the address of the hotel, which we had on a piece of paper. We didn't think our Polish pronounciation would get us anywhere. The Hello Taxi whisked us off to our much dreamed of hot shower....
We were woken up by a ticket inspector, who wouldn't sell us through tickets to Poznan for some reason. He insisted on seeing our passports, but only sold us tickets to Frankfurt am Oder. I was too sleepy to argue, and didn't want to risk any more filthy looks from the grumpy man. I was soon asleep again, only to be woken at the Polish border by some gruff guards, demanding to see passports. They examined them quite closely, with smirks on their faces. I don't know why, as my passport photo is actually really good. Nevertheless, I was soon asleep again. The next time I was woken up was by a Polish ticket inspector, who spoke terrible German. The grumpy man had by this point disappeared, which made me slightly worried as he was travelling to Poznan too. I presume he got fed up of sharing his compartment with two sleeping girls. What a hard life it must have been for him.
At around 9:40 we pulled up into Poznan. It was a very bleak station, very grey and stark. The platforms were only raised about a foot from the level of the tracks, which meant you had to clamber down from quite a height. We had to cross onto the other platform, where the ticket office was, and I wanted to just skip accross the track instead of going up onto the ridiculously high footbridge. No one else seemed to be taking this shortcut though, and I knew that sod's law would dictate that I would be hit by a speeding train. In the ticket office there appeared to be no members of staff hanging around to answer questions, but luckily K was a little more sensible than me and actually checked the departure board. There was a train going to Gdynia, and we thought that this must go to Gdansk too. Sure enough, it was, and we climbed (literally) on board.
This train was dusty and quite full. We found a compartment with two seats, and settled down. When the ticket inspector came round, we faced a small problem in that we don't know a single word of Polish. A kind girl in our compartment- probably late teens or early twenties, looked a little like Maria Sharapova- translated for us, and we were able to get the tickets. Looking out at the Polish landscape, I was struck by one thing: the lack of colour. I'd read that Poland is a very green country, but to me it seemed only grey. Even the sky was grey. There were lots of allotments with sheds in various states of disarray. We passed through towns (grey, bleak, univiting), villages (cute, rustic, but still grey), fields (either plain mud or snow covered) and forests (some had snow on the ground- these were the most attractive). As time passed, the amount of snow we saw increased, to the point where the world seeemed covered in a white blanket. I was a bit worried that Gdansk would be too cold. When I went to Berlin three years ago it was really cold, -15 on some days. That was awful, you needed to wear two pairs of trousers just to get around. The train went quite slowly as far as Bydgoszcz, where most of the people sharing our compartment got out. Then it picked up some speed, and it didn't take all that much time to get to Gdansk.
However, as we pulled into Gdansk, there was no snow. Architecturally- at least from the train- Gdansk seemed nicer than Poznan, or Bydgoszcz. We got out of the train and hugged each other. Finally!! Outside the station we hailed a "Hello Taxi"- our first of many. We showed the driver the address of the hotel, which we had on a piece of paper. We didn't think our Polish pronounciation would get us anywhere. The Hello Taxi whisked us off to our much dreamed of hot shower....
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Road trip to Europe: part 1
My friend K and I had planned to visit Poland last weekend. We bought flights on Ryanair for some paltry sum, and spent ages looking at websites and choosing where to stay. We planned to spend four days in Gdansk, by the coast. However, nothing went according to plan...
We were due to fly out to Poland on an early morning flight on Friday. We'd taken our bags and passports to work, so we could get the coach from Liverpool Street to the airport without having to go home first. We had explained to the normal security guard that we would be back at the office by 11.30 to get our bags, as I had a ballet class and we were going to get some food afterwards. He said that this would be fine, and that the night security guard would let us in.
On arriving back at the office, the security guard was nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he was doing his routine checks, we waited for 15 minutes. We then started to worry. We suspected that he might be on the 4th floor, as one of the lifts was on the 4th floor. We then called some people from work. We tried calling a number of different phone numbers accross the whole building, in the hope of alerting the security guard.
By now it was half past midnight, and we were freezing. We went to a pub that was open to sit in the warmth and carried on calling the office. At 1am we returned to the office, but the security guard was still not there. By now, the panic had really set in, and we called the police for advice, but they couldn't help us. We banged on the doors, and shouted, hoping to alert the guard, but he clearly wasn't on the ground floor, as he didn't hear us. There was only one light on on the ground floor, in the library, but no one was there.
As it passed 2am, we started to get really scared. We sat in the doorway for another half hour but eventually it got too cold. We decided that we would have to find somewhere warmer to stay. We walked up to London Bridge and sat inside for a while, trying to think of what we should do. Eventually, the only place we could think of that would be open was the hospital. Inside the main entrance, there were some chairs, where we sat, and kept calling the security phone every hour until half past five. Again, there was no response, but having been told to leave the hospital, and knowing that time was ticking and we needed our bags, we went back to the office.
We called the office and banged on the door for a further few minutes but still no one appeared. By this point, both lifts were on the ground floor. We suddenly saw a shadow, and realised that someone was there. We shouted and banged as loud as we could, and he appeared from the reception area and let us in. By this time it was 5.30. We ran to get our bags and passports, and booked a taxi. As we waited for the taxi to arrive, we asked the security guard where the hell he had been. He claimed that he had a stomach bug and was being sick in the room next door. That was obviously rubbish, as that room is an office. Don't normal people go to the bathroom when they're being sick?? We asked him why he hadn't answered his phone, and he said that he couldn't hear it. But we'd rung him on this number when he was sitting in the reception area! I really wanted to kill him.
By now, 5.45, the taxi had arrived, so we ended our conversation with the guard, as our main priority was getting to the airport on time. Unfortunately, we ended up missing our flight by five minutes. The next flight to Gdansk would be the following morning.
At this point, we were so close to tears out of tiredness and frustration. We tried to find flights to nearby destinations, with no success. In the end, we bought a flight to Berlin - some 120 miles from our destination, planning to take a train from there to Poland, so that we could at least use our return tickets. This cost us £165 each. We didn't think we could face the disappointment of not going away after the traumatic experience of the night before.
As Stansted airport was nice and warm, we decided to get some sleep there. Unfortunately the benches were metal and had arm rests. Somehow we managed to get to sleep, and actually slept quite well. I woke up to the sound of screaming children. One kid in particular was making a godawful racket and would only be silenced by her mother shaking some maracas at her. If the kid had been young, I might have let it pass. But no, it was a girl aged about 10!! I came so close to strangling the kid, and her mum for good measure. In the end I had to go for a walk around the fabulous shopping centre that is Stansted airport to get away from the kid.
We spent quite a lot of time in the smoking area, which seemed to be where all the fit guys were. I tried eyeing some of them up,as an enjoyable way to pass some time, but I realised that I probably looked like death warmed up. I tried to have a wash in the bathrooms, but it wasn't really possible. All I wanted was a bath.
Check in time for the Berlin flight was 16:40, and the time crept round so slowly. When we finally got through passport control, I wanted to jump around with happiness. I did a little jumping, and was thankful we were finally on our way.
We were due to fly out to Poland on an early morning flight on Friday. We'd taken our bags and passports to work, so we could get the coach from Liverpool Street to the airport without having to go home first. We had explained to the normal security guard that we would be back at the office by 11.30 to get our bags, as I had a ballet class and we were going to get some food afterwards. He said that this would be fine, and that the night security guard would let us in.
On arriving back at the office, the security guard was nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he was doing his routine checks, we waited for 15 minutes. We then started to worry. We suspected that he might be on the 4th floor, as one of the lifts was on the 4th floor. We then called some people from work. We tried calling a number of different phone numbers accross the whole building, in the hope of alerting the security guard.
By now it was half past midnight, and we were freezing. We went to a pub that was open to sit in the warmth and carried on calling the office. At 1am we returned to the office, but the security guard was still not there. By now, the panic had really set in, and we called the police for advice, but they couldn't help us. We banged on the doors, and shouted, hoping to alert the guard, but he clearly wasn't on the ground floor, as he didn't hear us. There was only one light on on the ground floor, in the library, but no one was there.
As it passed 2am, we started to get really scared. We sat in the doorway for another half hour but eventually it got too cold. We decided that we would have to find somewhere warmer to stay. We walked up to London Bridge and sat inside for a while, trying to think of what we should do. Eventually, the only place we could think of that would be open was the hospital. Inside the main entrance, there were some chairs, where we sat, and kept calling the security phone every hour until half past five. Again, there was no response, but having been told to leave the hospital, and knowing that time was ticking and we needed our bags, we went back to the office.
We called the office and banged on the door for a further few minutes but still no one appeared. By this point, both lifts were on the ground floor. We suddenly saw a shadow, and realised that someone was there. We shouted and banged as loud as we could, and he appeared from the reception area and let us in. By this time it was 5.30. We ran to get our bags and passports, and booked a taxi. As we waited for the taxi to arrive, we asked the security guard where the hell he had been. He claimed that he had a stomach bug and was being sick in the room next door. That was obviously rubbish, as that room is an office. Don't normal people go to the bathroom when they're being sick?? We asked him why he hadn't answered his phone, and he said that he couldn't hear it. But we'd rung him on this number when he was sitting in the reception area! I really wanted to kill him.
By now, 5.45, the taxi had arrived, so we ended our conversation with the guard, as our main priority was getting to the airport on time. Unfortunately, we ended up missing our flight by five minutes. The next flight to Gdansk would be the following morning.
At this point, we were so close to tears out of tiredness and frustration. We tried to find flights to nearby destinations, with no success. In the end, we bought a flight to Berlin - some 120 miles from our destination, planning to take a train from there to Poland, so that we could at least use our return tickets. This cost us £165 each. We didn't think we could face the disappointment of not going away after the traumatic experience of the night before.
As Stansted airport was nice and warm, we decided to get some sleep there. Unfortunately the benches were metal and had arm rests. Somehow we managed to get to sleep, and actually slept quite well. I woke up to the sound of screaming children. One kid in particular was making a godawful racket and would only be silenced by her mother shaking some maracas at her. If the kid had been young, I might have let it pass. But no, it was a girl aged about 10!! I came so close to strangling the kid, and her mum for good measure. In the end I had to go for a walk around the fabulous shopping centre that is Stansted airport to get away from the kid.
We spent quite a lot of time in the smoking area, which seemed to be where all the fit guys were. I tried eyeing some of them up,as an enjoyable way to pass some time, but I realised that I probably looked like death warmed up. I tried to have a wash in the bathrooms, but it wasn't really possible. All I wanted was a bath.
Check in time for the Berlin flight was 16:40, and the time crept round so slowly. When we finally got through passport control, I wanted to jump around with happiness. I did a little jumping, and was thankful we were finally on our way.
Road trip to Europe: part 2
We touched down in Berlin having had quite a satisfying sleep on the plane. Passport control seemed a little more strict than normal, but then German passport officials are always very stern. We walked accross the park to the station. It's one of the weirdest stations I know.
There's a long corridor underneath eight platforms, with no signs announcing trains and no ticket office. The train times are posted on a grubby leaflet, stuck to the wall.
When the train did arrive, however, it made up for it by being a double decker train. We sat on the top deck, of course. It doesn't take long to get from the airport to the city centre. From my guidebook to Poland, I had figured out that the best thing to do would be to take a train accross the border to Poznan, on the Berlin-Warsaw express, and then another train from Poznan to Gdansk. I guessed that trains going east would leave from the Ostbahnhof, so we headed to there.
I guessed right. However, the train would not be leaving until the morning. I was glad that I can speak German as the men at the information desk did not speak English. I checked that there were no other trains to Poland before the morning, but there weren't. If we hadn't spent the previous night out in the cold, we might have thought that this would be a problem. As it was, we felt that we could deal with almost every situation that was thrown at us.
K had never been to Berlin before, but I had. We decided to go sightseeing. First we left our bags in one of the lockers, and I changed my tshirt. I instantly felt a lot better. I felt quite skanky as I hadn't taken my shoes off in so long, and I wondered how long it took fo foot rot to start to take place.
I didn't know my way around the Ostbahnhof, so we took a train to Freidrichstr. and went to a nearby pub. After some hearty German food and a beer, we felt ready to tackle the city. The pub was playing really terrible German music, and we were quite annoyed at having to leave at 1:00, when it shut.
As K hadn't done history at school, and I did a degree in the bastard subject, with most of my last year concentrating on german history, I gave her a bit of a guided tour. We started off by walking down to Unter den Linden. There were christmas lights everywhere- not the tacky half-arsed ones you get in the UK, but full-on fantastic ones. Unter den Linden wasn't that nice, as there were some building works. However, over by the Brandenberg Tor there was a huge tree. I've not seen any as good as that. It was so huge, it was tethered with three thick metal cables. There were wooden stars and moons tied to the end of the branches. It looked really magical, with the Tor just behind it.
We went to see the marker, pointing out where the wall stood. It's funny to think that there was a huge wall right in the middle of this crossroads. Then we walked over to the Reichstag. I'd seen it by day, and had been up to the dome, but I hadn't seen it at night. It looked fabulous with the dome all lit up.
K wanted to see the remaining section of the wall, so we walked over to Checkpoint Charlie. The hut that was the checkpoint is still there, along with a sign marking the end of the American sector. We started walking over to the wall, and walked past a skip, when suddenly the skip shrieked!! We ran to the other side of the road as quickly as we could. K said she thought that there must be a man in the skip, and at first I thought that was ridiculous. Then I thought that it was probably less ridiculous than it being the skip itself making the noise. Nevertheless, we didn't go over to investigate.
The remaining section of the wall is impressive, it's somewhat taller than I remembered. It's hard to think what it must have been like before the wall came down. Life on the East must have been hard for people to take the risks they took to get to the West. The East is still pretty grey, and bleak in places. What makes me really think is that the DDR had the highest standard of living of any of the eastern bloc. Parts of the USSR must look like concrete hell on polluted earth.
By now we were both quite cold and tired, and we headed back to the Ostbahnhof. K fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, so I made her a pillow and cover out of bags and coats, and she went to sleep on the bench. As it wasn't yet 4:00, and our train didn't leave until 6:40, I decided to get some sleep too. I lay on top of my bag, to stop it being stolen, and used my coat as a blanket.
There's a long corridor underneath eight platforms, with no signs announcing trains and no ticket office. The train times are posted on a grubby leaflet, stuck to the wall.
When the train did arrive, however, it made up for it by being a double decker train. We sat on the top deck, of course. It doesn't take long to get from the airport to the city centre. From my guidebook to Poland, I had figured out that the best thing to do would be to take a train accross the border to Poznan, on the Berlin-Warsaw express, and then another train from Poznan to Gdansk. I guessed that trains going east would leave from the Ostbahnhof, so we headed to there.
I guessed right. However, the train would not be leaving until the morning. I was glad that I can speak German as the men at the information desk did not speak English. I checked that there were no other trains to Poland before the morning, but there weren't. If we hadn't spent the previous night out in the cold, we might have thought that this would be a problem. As it was, we felt that we could deal with almost every situation that was thrown at us.
K had never been to Berlin before, but I had. We decided to go sightseeing. First we left our bags in one of the lockers, and I changed my tshirt. I instantly felt a lot better. I felt quite skanky as I hadn't taken my shoes off in so long, and I wondered how long it took fo foot rot to start to take place.
I didn't know my way around the Ostbahnhof, so we took a train to Freidrichstr. and went to a nearby pub. After some hearty German food and a beer, we felt ready to tackle the city. The pub was playing really terrible German music, and we were quite annoyed at having to leave at 1:00, when it shut.
As K hadn't done history at school, and I did a degree in the bastard subject, with most of my last year concentrating on german history, I gave her a bit of a guided tour. We started off by walking down to Unter den Linden. There were christmas lights everywhere- not the tacky half-arsed ones you get in the UK, but full-on fantastic ones. Unter den Linden wasn't that nice, as there were some building works. However, over by the Brandenberg Tor there was a huge tree. I've not seen any as good as that. It was so huge, it was tethered with three thick metal cables. There were wooden stars and moons tied to the end of the branches. It looked really magical, with the Tor just behind it.
We went to see the marker, pointing out where the wall stood. It's funny to think that there was a huge wall right in the middle of this crossroads. Then we walked over to the Reichstag. I'd seen it by day, and had been up to the dome, but I hadn't seen it at night. It looked fabulous with the dome all lit up.
K wanted to see the remaining section of the wall, so we walked over to Checkpoint Charlie. The hut that was the checkpoint is still there, along with a sign marking the end of the American sector. We started walking over to the wall, and walked past a skip, when suddenly the skip shrieked!! We ran to the other side of the road as quickly as we could. K said she thought that there must be a man in the skip, and at first I thought that was ridiculous. Then I thought that it was probably less ridiculous than it being the skip itself making the noise. Nevertheless, we didn't go over to investigate.
The remaining section of the wall is impressive, it's somewhat taller than I remembered. It's hard to think what it must have been like before the wall came down. Life on the East must have been hard for people to take the risks they took to get to the West. The East is still pretty grey, and bleak in places. What makes me really think is that the DDR had the highest standard of living of any of the eastern bloc. Parts of the USSR must look like concrete hell on polluted earth.
By now we were both quite cold and tired, and we headed back to the Ostbahnhof. K fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, so I made her a pillow and cover out of bags and coats, and she went to sleep on the bench. As it wasn't yet 4:00, and our train didn't leave until 6:40, I decided to get some sleep too. I lay on top of my bag, to stop it being stolen, and used my coat as a blanket.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Things that have been making me happy recently
Some things that have been making me smile:
The masses of yellow leaves that have amassed at the foot of Herne Hill.
The excuse given by Thameslink trains for the delay this morning: "Illegal immigrants on the line".
Doing really precise pirouettes and being complimented for my "snappy head".
Holiday photos.
The excitement of going on holiday again in less than 24 hours.
Climbing the hill and looking down at Battersea Power Station.
Remembering all the funny things my cat used to do, like steal my food and chase my shoelaces.
Debating whether girls are actually boys.
Warm towels when you get out of the shower.
Drinking icy cold water.
Finding my favourite lipbalm.
Remembering to take a packed lunch to work, and feeling smug about it, instead of having to go to Sainsbury's and buy a rubbish sandwich.
Hanging out with my friends.
Leprechaun impressions.
Singing inappropriate songs.
Inventing names for work colleagues.
My snoopy shorts.
The masses of yellow leaves that have amassed at the foot of Herne Hill.
The excuse given by Thameslink trains for the delay this morning: "Illegal immigrants on the line".
Doing really precise pirouettes and being complimented for my "snappy head".
Holiday photos.
The excitement of going on holiday again in less than 24 hours.
Climbing the hill and looking down at Battersea Power Station.
Remembering all the funny things my cat used to do, like steal my food and chase my shoelaces.
Debating whether girls are actually boys.
Warm towels when you get out of the shower.
Drinking icy cold water.
Finding my favourite lipbalm.
Remembering to take a packed lunch to work, and feeling smug about it, instead of having to go to Sainsbury's and buy a rubbish sandwich.
Hanging out with my friends.
Leprechaun impressions.
Singing inappropriate songs.
Inventing names for work colleagues.
My snoopy shorts.
Monday, December 05, 2005
A catastrophic weekend
Having been very hyper at work all day on Friday, we headed off to the pub. I'd managed to get out of a Knowledge Management exercise, so I could leave at six. I headed up to the top floor where the boys were playing cricket, and cajoled them into leaving. I think they would have been content to play all night- or at least until there was a confirmed winner, anyway.
At the pub, we started on the wine. And then the spirits. And then more wine... By about 11 we were all completely pissed. There was only three of us at this point, and to remain upright we were all leaning against each other. T had previously gone to a dinner party, but he came back and we proceeded to get even more drunk.
Things that I did in the pub:
- shout abuse at the barman
- lose my debit card
- find my debit card
- talk non stop in German for no particular reason
- take blurry pictures on my phone
- smoke a lot
- kiss my friend
- call T 'Paddington' even though I know he hates it
- chat to an Irish guy and insult his mates girlfriend
- kiss aforementioned Irish guy
- turn down offer of a shag from the Irish guy, telling him to go home
- drunkenly text some random I'd met online and invite him out
- fall over a bar stool
Once we'd finally been thrown out, I realised that the random guy I'd only met online had actually come to the pub. The others decided to go home. Actually, they didn't all want to go home, but as she was only one, and she was marginally more pissed than the rest of us, she was dragged off. I decided that it would be a really good idea to carry on drinking.
The random guy and I walked down to Elephant and waited for a bus. For some reason that is unknown to me, we then took a cab. I left my work folder in the taxi by accident but decided I couldn't be bothered to worry about it. We went to the Fridge bar, where I instantly got in a bad mood.
I managed to find a free chair for myself. By this point I was feeling quite selfish and decided not to find one for the random, even though he was at the bar paying for my drink. After ten minutes or so, the random went to the loo, and I did a runner. I grabbed my stuff and legged it out of the door, and put my phone on silent so it wouldn't annoy me. I looked around and realised that I was in Brixton.
No worries, I thought to myself. I can walk home from here.
I crossed the road and started walking down towards mine. After about ten steps I started crying, and I proceeded to cry most of the way home. About two minutes into my journey I met another random guy who took pity on me. He told me that he could see I was sad, and that what I was doing was dangerous. He told me he'd been in my position once, miserable and lonely, and that drinking didn't make it any better.
He walked me half the way home.
By the time he left me to walk down the Dulwich Road myself, I had sobered up enough to know that if I didn't stick to the main road, I would get lost. I was still crying. As I got closer to home, the hunger kicked in. The only course of action was to go to the garage and buy a packet of Galaxy Minstrels.
I finally got home, and attempted to be quiet. Once in my room, I threw my clothes off and fell pretty instantly asleep.
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling awful. I hadn't managed to eat the Minstrels, and they were sitting on my pillow, along with a packet of crisps I had clearly bought too. My housemate knocked on the door, and I put on my comfiest clothes and went to the kitchen. She was very sweet. She told me about her date, and made me feel a lot better. She told me that I wasn't alone in doing stupid things like that, and that she'd done similar when she'd split up with her ex.
Having drunk four glasses of water, I went back to bed and plugged in my phone, so I could send some messages. Then I went straight back to sleep.
At around 20:00 I woke up- forced awake by my hunger. I went to the living room and watched tv. Mindless television was just what I needed. Eventually the acidic feeling in my brain lifted enough for me to go to the kitchen and make the biggest plate of food ever.
I was laughed at, eating spaghetti. My housemate said she had never seen such a look of concentration.
I made the mistake of staying up too late. I watched Taxi Driver, and then went to my room and watched Lilja 4-ever. That was a far bigger mistake than I envisaged, as- as always with that film- I started crying and crying. Eventually I cried myself to sleep.
My ex met me in Brixton at 4 on Sunday. The atmosphere was so icy, the weather felt almost tropical in comparison. It rounded off a terrible weekend quite appropriately. I think it was one of the saddest experiences ever.
At the pub, we started on the wine. And then the spirits. And then more wine... By about 11 we were all completely pissed. There was only three of us at this point, and to remain upright we were all leaning against each other. T had previously gone to a dinner party, but he came back and we proceeded to get even more drunk.
Things that I did in the pub:
- shout abuse at the barman
- lose my debit card
- find my debit card
- talk non stop in German for no particular reason
- take blurry pictures on my phone
- smoke a lot
- kiss my friend
- call T 'Paddington' even though I know he hates it
- chat to an Irish guy and insult his mates girlfriend
- kiss aforementioned Irish guy
- turn down offer of a shag from the Irish guy, telling him to go home
- drunkenly text some random I'd met online and invite him out
- fall over a bar stool
Once we'd finally been thrown out, I realised that the random guy I'd only met online had actually come to the pub. The others decided to go home. Actually, they didn't all want to go home, but as she was only one, and she was marginally more pissed than the rest of us, she was dragged off. I decided that it would be a really good idea to carry on drinking.
The random guy and I walked down to Elephant and waited for a bus. For some reason that is unknown to me, we then took a cab. I left my work folder in the taxi by accident but decided I couldn't be bothered to worry about it. We went to the Fridge bar, where I instantly got in a bad mood.
I managed to find a free chair for myself. By this point I was feeling quite selfish and decided not to find one for the random, even though he was at the bar paying for my drink. After ten minutes or so, the random went to the loo, and I did a runner. I grabbed my stuff and legged it out of the door, and put my phone on silent so it wouldn't annoy me. I looked around and realised that I was in Brixton.
No worries, I thought to myself. I can walk home from here.
I crossed the road and started walking down towards mine. After about ten steps I started crying, and I proceeded to cry most of the way home. About two minutes into my journey I met another random guy who took pity on me. He told me that he could see I was sad, and that what I was doing was dangerous. He told me he'd been in my position once, miserable and lonely, and that drinking didn't make it any better.
He walked me half the way home.
By the time he left me to walk down the Dulwich Road myself, I had sobered up enough to know that if I didn't stick to the main road, I would get lost. I was still crying. As I got closer to home, the hunger kicked in. The only course of action was to go to the garage and buy a packet of Galaxy Minstrels.
I finally got home, and attempted to be quiet. Once in my room, I threw my clothes off and fell pretty instantly asleep.
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling awful. I hadn't managed to eat the Minstrels, and they were sitting on my pillow, along with a packet of crisps I had clearly bought too. My housemate knocked on the door, and I put on my comfiest clothes and went to the kitchen. She was very sweet. She told me about her date, and made me feel a lot better. She told me that I wasn't alone in doing stupid things like that, and that she'd done similar when she'd split up with her ex.
Having drunk four glasses of water, I went back to bed and plugged in my phone, so I could send some messages. Then I went straight back to sleep.
At around 20:00 I woke up- forced awake by my hunger. I went to the living room and watched tv. Mindless television was just what I needed. Eventually the acidic feeling in my brain lifted enough for me to go to the kitchen and make the biggest plate of food ever.
I was laughed at, eating spaghetti. My housemate said she had never seen such a look of concentration.
I made the mistake of staying up too late. I watched Taxi Driver, and then went to my room and watched Lilja 4-ever. That was a far bigger mistake than I envisaged, as- as always with that film- I started crying and crying. Eventually I cried myself to sleep.
My ex met me in Brixton at 4 on Sunday. The atmosphere was so icy, the weather felt almost tropical in comparison. It rounded off a terrible weekend quite appropriately. I think it was one of the saddest experiences ever.
Friday, December 02, 2005
I was getting the train to work yesterday, a little later than intended as I'd slept in (yet again). There weren't many people on the train. In my carriage there was just me, a little old lady and some yoof with a baseball cap and shiny tracksuit-type attire.
The yoof suddenly spoke to the lady, who had been listening to music. He asked what part of London we were in.
Taking her headphones off, the lady said, "Oh, sorry. This is... hmmm... where are we?" She had a little look out of the window at the concrete jungle of the Walworth Road. "Oh, this is near the Elephant and Castle. It's South East London, though it's not very far from the centre."
The yoof looked interested, so she continued. "The Elephant is named after the shopping centre here. It's the last stop on this line that's south of the river. The next stop is Blackfriars, on the other side of the river. Blackfriars is very close to St Paul's Cathedral, right in the City of London."
She carried on giving a guide to London from each of the Thameslink stations. I was gutted that I was getting off at the next stop, and couldn't carry on eavesdropping.
Incidentally, that old lady was the first pensioner I have seen listening to an iPod. I think she could be called an iPensioner, or OAiP.
The yoof suddenly spoke to the lady, who had been listening to music. He asked what part of London we were in.
Taking her headphones off, the lady said, "Oh, sorry. This is... hmmm... where are we?" She had a little look out of the window at the concrete jungle of the Walworth Road. "Oh, this is near the Elephant and Castle. It's South East London, though it's not very far from the centre."
The yoof looked interested, so she continued. "The Elephant is named after the shopping centre here. It's the last stop on this line that's south of the river. The next stop is Blackfriars, on the other side of the river. Blackfriars is very close to St Paul's Cathedral, right in the City of London."
She carried on giving a guide to London from each of the Thameslink stations. I was gutted that I was getting off at the next stop, and couldn't carry on eavesdropping.
Incidentally, that old lady was the first pensioner I have seen listening to an iPod. I think she could be called an iPensioner, or OAiP.
Monday, November 28, 2005
I went up to the N1 on Sunday afternoon for a bit of shopping and some food with Khuong. Being the classy ladies that we are, we only bought things at Oxfam and Cancer Research. I found myself two pretty cool dresses. The one I'm wearing today makes me look very Christmassy, apparently. I was told this by some random guy who came into our office. I think he meant it in a good way. Some people are really hamfisted when it comes to compliments.
We went to a little Spanish restaurant to fill our hungry bellies. When the paella (vegetarian, of course) came, we didn't think we'd be able to eat it. But we managed, stuffing our faces with the stuff. True to form, I picked out all the mushrooms. There were a lot actually. Last Tuesday, on my date-that-wasn't, I'd tried to eat mushrooms. They were quite small, and I'd mixed them up with other things. I thought that meant I was over my strange and quite childish dislike of the fungus. Clearly I was wrong. I carefully sifted through my paella to make sure that there were none lurking, not that it was difficult to miss the buggers.
After strolling around for a while, I headed up to Stoke Newington to pick up my mail from my old flat. I didn't think anyone was there to let me in, but they were. There wasn't anything very exciting. Contact lenses. Phone bill. Letter from Nat West telling me that the Debt Recovery agents would be round soon. I folded that one up very small and put it at the bottom of my bag.
I headed over to Camden to see my old school friend. He'd sounded very hungover when I'd spoke to him earlier on, so I was pleased to see that he was actually still awake and coherent. We went to the pub and began drinking. We haven't seen each other in so long, but we still love each other so much. He told me all the latest news from back home and said how everyone had been missing me. His girlfriend has moved to Australia, via a hippy commune in Milton Keynes, so we were equally cynical about the state of modern romance.
He told me that one of my exes had become a trolley dolly. Now this was a rumour I had heard a few days before, but I didn't believe it. I didn't really believe it until I called him, and asked him. We chatted for a while and I promised to go and visit him when he moved to Brighton.
We got progressively more drunk. We drank some Sambucas: always a mistake. He got very tired and wanted to lie down but I sent him outside for some fresh air. When he returned he told me that he'd eaten a pizza. I finally worked out that he hadn't actually eaten a pizza, just a slice of a pizza.
At half past ten- so much for late licensing- we headed back to the tube, and were, on reflection, quite rowdy and annoying. Talking absolute rubbish, we walked from Euston, pausing occasionally to do stupid things like climb on things or twirl each other round to get dizzy. He finally got his train, and I began the long trek back to South London. By the time I got into bed, it was half one. I'd waited at a bus stop in Brixton for about 35 minutes, and I was freezing, so I made some noodles and ate them in bed.
This morning I woke up to a text saying:
"Some people say 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone'. I say, 'you don't know what you've got until it comes back and reminds you of a life that made tears run down your cheeks, a life when you felt understood and somebody cared'."
We went to a little Spanish restaurant to fill our hungry bellies. When the paella (vegetarian, of course) came, we didn't think we'd be able to eat it. But we managed, stuffing our faces with the stuff. True to form, I picked out all the mushrooms. There were a lot actually. Last Tuesday, on my date-that-wasn't, I'd tried to eat mushrooms. They were quite small, and I'd mixed them up with other things. I thought that meant I was over my strange and quite childish dislike of the fungus. Clearly I was wrong. I carefully sifted through my paella to make sure that there were none lurking, not that it was difficult to miss the buggers.
After strolling around for a while, I headed up to Stoke Newington to pick up my mail from my old flat. I didn't think anyone was there to let me in, but they were. There wasn't anything very exciting. Contact lenses. Phone bill. Letter from Nat West telling me that the Debt Recovery agents would be round soon. I folded that one up very small and put it at the bottom of my bag.
I headed over to Camden to see my old school friend. He'd sounded very hungover when I'd spoke to him earlier on, so I was pleased to see that he was actually still awake and coherent. We went to the pub and began drinking. We haven't seen each other in so long, but we still love each other so much. He told me all the latest news from back home and said how everyone had been missing me. His girlfriend has moved to Australia, via a hippy commune in Milton Keynes, so we were equally cynical about the state of modern romance.
He told me that one of my exes had become a trolley dolly. Now this was a rumour I had heard a few days before, but I didn't believe it. I didn't really believe it until I called him, and asked him. We chatted for a while and I promised to go and visit him when he moved to Brighton.
We got progressively more drunk. We drank some Sambucas: always a mistake. He got very tired and wanted to lie down but I sent him outside for some fresh air. When he returned he told me that he'd eaten a pizza. I finally worked out that he hadn't actually eaten a pizza, just a slice of a pizza.
At half past ten- so much for late licensing- we headed back to the tube, and were, on reflection, quite rowdy and annoying. Talking absolute rubbish, we walked from Euston, pausing occasionally to do stupid things like climb on things or twirl each other round to get dizzy. He finally got his train, and I began the long trek back to South London. By the time I got into bed, it was half one. I'd waited at a bus stop in Brixton for about 35 minutes, and I was freezing, so I made some noodles and ate them in bed.
This morning I woke up to a text saying:
"Some people say 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone'. I say, 'you don't know what you've got until it comes back and reminds you of a life that made tears run down your cheeks, a life when you felt understood and somebody cared'."
Friday night, part 2
Having got ridiculously drunk on horrible cheap wine, I started having a chat with one of the boys. We started by talking about the place where we both used to live, and about a mutual friend (who was, by this point, so drunk he fell off his chair). Somehow we ended up sitting away from everyone else, snuggled up while sitting on two little stools.
This has happened once before.
The first time, he kissed me when we were messing about on the sofa, much to my surprise. After that, I thought things had returned to normal. We'd gone out for coffee a couple of times, and we saw each other in the pub of course.
This time, we didn't kiss. He had his hand on my knee, and I had mine on his. I hadn't noticed how bright his eyes were before. A piercing blue, that I'd always found quite watery. They looked more intense than I remembered them. We leant towards each other. I could feel his breath on my face. Our lips brushed together, but we both shifted back so it was nothing more. We stayed like this, close enough to kiss but not letting it happen.
Suddenly it was as if a light had been shone in our alcoholic state, and we stood up. He made excuses:
"Everyone's looking. My friend is watching us, she'll be annoyed with me."
I said, "Nobody's looking. But you're getting married."
I tired of drinking, as my head hurt and the wine was making my stomach ache and my eyesight blur. We walked up to the train station, arm in arm.
He said he couldn't kiss me because he'd feel bad. I said, "Don't."
This has happened once before.
The first time, he kissed me when we were messing about on the sofa, much to my surprise. After that, I thought things had returned to normal. We'd gone out for coffee a couple of times, and we saw each other in the pub of course.
This time, we didn't kiss. He had his hand on my knee, and I had mine on his. I hadn't noticed how bright his eyes were before. A piercing blue, that I'd always found quite watery. They looked more intense than I remembered them. We leant towards each other. I could feel his breath on my face. Our lips brushed together, but we both shifted back so it was nothing more. We stayed like this, close enough to kiss but not letting it happen.
Suddenly it was as if a light had been shone in our alcoholic state, and we stood up. He made excuses:
"Everyone's looking. My friend is watching us, she'll be annoyed with me."
I said, "Nobody's looking. But you're getting married."
I tired of drinking, as my head hurt and the wine was making my stomach ache and my eyesight blur. We walked up to the train station, arm in arm.
He said he couldn't kiss me because he'd feel bad. I said, "Don't."
Friday night, part 1
My weekend passed all too quickly. It's funny, as for a time on Saturday, I felt like it was going so slowly. I don't interest or entertain myself anymore. Time alone stretches on far longer than is necessary.
On Friday, we went to the pub for a colleague's leaving drinks. We always go to the same pub on a Friday. Actually, that's not entirely true. We used to go to a different pub, by Borough Market, but the barstaff are infinitely more attractive at the other pub. Hence our decision. It is a nice pub though, with quite a lot of character. I'm no longer interested in the men there. That's because I went on a date with one of them. It went really well- or so I thought. But he has never called me again, so it clearly wasn't an enjoyable experience for both of us.
Before going to the pub, I went up to the fourth floor, taking the lift of course. The boys were playing cricket in the open plan area. Despite all three being aged about 30, they act like children. The image isn't much helped by the fact that they're all small. Their boss fits into the role of a dad perfectly. He's very camp, and mothers the boys.
One of them told me that earlier, him and the other boys had been throwing things over the toilet cubicle at their boss. Then they'd switched off the lights and run away. The boss heard someone in the cubicle next to him and threw a load of loo roll over the partition, thinking that it was one of the boys. As they were finishing of the cricket game, they decided to tell him that it wasn't in fact them, and that he had brought himself down to their level by throwing things at random people.
We walked over to the pub. I felt quite foxy in my knee high purple boots. I had already been the the loo to check my makeup, just in case the barman was there. On the way we made lots of innuendos and laughed like idiots. We walked into the pub, and of course the barman wasn't there. I'm starting to wonder whether he chooses his shifts deliberately so he doesn't see me. But I think that would take some actual thought about me, which I won't flatter myself by thinking of.
T and I got some wine. It tasted of vinegar. It was pretty much the worst wine I have ever tasted in my life. I still drank a bottle and a half of the stuff. By about 10:30 I was horrendously drunk, and had had random and potentially embarassing conversations with every single one of my workmates. I had also done some funny things- or, what I found to funny at the time. This included:
- doing impressions of our HR manager as a catwalk model
- wearing other peoples clothes
- orchestrating a photo shoot
- kissing one of my female colleagues
- throwing my arms around pretty much everyone
- mistaking my friends ex for some random guy at the bar, who she later went on to sleep with anyway, making it especially odd
There was other stuff too, but that will have to be written about later as I'm on the front desk and I keep being asked to do work. Part 2 has some juicy events that I shall revel in retelling.
On Friday, we went to the pub for a colleague's leaving drinks. We always go to the same pub on a Friday. Actually, that's not entirely true. We used to go to a different pub, by Borough Market, but the barstaff are infinitely more attractive at the other pub. Hence our decision. It is a nice pub though, with quite a lot of character. I'm no longer interested in the men there. That's because I went on a date with one of them. It went really well- or so I thought. But he has never called me again, so it clearly wasn't an enjoyable experience for both of us.
Before going to the pub, I went up to the fourth floor, taking the lift of course. The boys were playing cricket in the open plan area. Despite all three being aged about 30, they act like children. The image isn't much helped by the fact that they're all small. Their boss fits into the role of a dad perfectly. He's very camp, and mothers the boys.
One of them told me that earlier, him and the other boys had been throwing things over the toilet cubicle at their boss. Then they'd switched off the lights and run away. The boss heard someone in the cubicle next to him and threw a load of loo roll over the partition, thinking that it was one of the boys. As they were finishing of the cricket game, they decided to tell him that it wasn't in fact them, and that he had brought himself down to their level by throwing things at random people.
We walked over to the pub. I felt quite foxy in my knee high purple boots. I had already been the the loo to check my makeup, just in case the barman was there. On the way we made lots of innuendos and laughed like idiots. We walked into the pub, and of course the barman wasn't there. I'm starting to wonder whether he chooses his shifts deliberately so he doesn't see me. But I think that would take some actual thought about me, which I won't flatter myself by thinking of.
T and I got some wine. It tasted of vinegar. It was pretty much the worst wine I have ever tasted in my life. I still drank a bottle and a half of the stuff. By about 10:30 I was horrendously drunk, and had had random and potentially embarassing conversations with every single one of my workmates. I had also done some funny things- or, what I found to funny at the time. This included:
- doing impressions of our HR manager as a catwalk model
- wearing other peoples clothes
- orchestrating a photo shoot
- kissing one of my female colleagues
- throwing my arms around pretty much everyone
- mistaking my friends ex for some random guy at the bar, who she later went on to sleep with anyway, making it especially odd
There was other stuff too, but that will have to be written about later as I'm on the front desk and I keep being asked to do work. Part 2 has some juicy events that I shall revel in retelling.
Friday, November 25, 2005
And then...
When we woke up, all tangled up in that lovely way naked bodies tend to be first thing in the morning, I lay awake for a little while, thinking about how strange it was, to be in bed with such a good friend, but then thinking how nice it was at the same time. I had such a rush of hormones running straight through my body. I was glad I was lying down or my knees would have gone weak. I forced myself out of bed, and put on my snoopy shorts (I'd been wearing them under my jeans as there's a huge hole on my bum, as well as rips in the knees) and one of his tshirts and went to the bathroom. My mouth felt like something had died in there. I though about the amount of bacteria in cum, and figured that it probably explained the dead-animal-in-mouth sensation. I was fucking glad they had Listerine. After swilling my mouth out repeatedly, I went back to bed.
Having ignored my alarm, I dozed for a little longer. I was woken by the other guy getting up and leaving, and I lay awake listening to him go. It became obvious that my friend was doing the same, and as the door shut, we fell onto each other like animals. Then, of course, the other guy came into the room again, and we tried to pretend nothing was happening- kind of difficult when it is clear that there are two naked people in a bed, clearly up to no good. After that interruption, we carried on... the feeling inside me was incredible, like I was alive far more than I ever had been. I wasn't worried about what would happen later, or worried about anything at all. All I wanted was him, and all he wanted was me.
He said, "It's so random, that this is happening with us."
I replied, "It's not random at all, it's inevitable."
He asked why. I responded with a question: "How long have you wanted to do this for?"
He said four years. The same as me. He agreed, "I suppose it was always going to happen, as we've both wanted it so long. There's been so much tension between us."
Then I realised that the feeling coursing through my veins was the pent up tension and sexual frustration that has been a part of our friendship for so long being released. I didn't care if it didn't last, I didn't care that this is not what friends are meant to do.
After we collapsed into a heap, and I lay my head on his chest, I felt so calm. I felt him looking at me, he kept kissing the top of my head. He looked.... he looked....
I wasn't surprised when he said, "I can't do this." I smiled and told him that I'd always known that he would say that. As I said it, I knew it was true. He told me, "I can't mess up our friendship. I want you, but you're you". He's known me so long. "I just can't do this."
I kissed him on the forehead. We held each other for a while, and he stroked the back of my neck as I scratched his back for him. After a while, I got up and got dressed, as he made breakfast. We kissed again, and then I left- out into the cold, up the hill to Kentish Town. As I walked I smiled. There's nothing like inevitability to make you happy, and to make you appreciate everything old and new. Even the icy puddles looked beautiful this morning. I savoured the feeling of being whole.
Having ignored my alarm, I dozed for a little longer. I was woken by the other guy getting up and leaving, and I lay awake listening to him go. It became obvious that my friend was doing the same, and as the door shut, we fell onto each other like animals. Then, of course, the other guy came into the room again, and we tried to pretend nothing was happening- kind of difficult when it is clear that there are two naked people in a bed, clearly up to no good. After that interruption, we carried on... the feeling inside me was incredible, like I was alive far more than I ever had been. I wasn't worried about what would happen later, or worried about anything at all. All I wanted was him, and all he wanted was me.
He said, "It's so random, that this is happening with us."
I replied, "It's not random at all, it's inevitable."
He asked why. I responded with a question: "How long have you wanted to do this for?"
He said four years. The same as me. He agreed, "I suppose it was always going to happen, as we've both wanted it so long. There's been so much tension between us."
Then I realised that the feeling coursing through my veins was the pent up tension and sexual frustration that has been a part of our friendship for so long being released. I didn't care if it didn't last, I didn't care that this is not what friends are meant to do.
After we collapsed into a heap, and I lay my head on his chest, I felt so calm. I felt him looking at me, he kept kissing the top of my head. He looked.... he looked....
I wasn't surprised when he said, "I can't do this." I smiled and told him that I'd always known that he would say that. As I said it, I knew it was true. He told me, "I can't mess up our friendship. I want you, but you're you". He's known me so long. "I just can't do this."
I kissed him on the forehead. We held each other for a while, and he stroked the back of my neck as I scratched his back for him. After a while, I got up and got dressed, as he made breakfast. We kissed again, and then I left- out into the cold, up the hill to Kentish Town. As I walked I smiled. There's nothing like inevitability to make you happy, and to make you appreciate everything old and new. Even the icy puddles looked beautiful this morning. I savoured the feeling of being whole.
Can vegetarians give blowjobs?
I would count myself as a vegetarian. And not one of those fake fish-eating pescetarians, who think that they are vegetarians cos they're not chomping down on a piece of cow. A proper vegetarian, who would like to be vegan but likes cheese too much. Some day I will find a nice soya cheese and then I will be a proper vegan. Anyway, I digress. Blowjobs- and I'm clearly talking about swallowing here- I don't know who would spit. I mean, I've gagged on the foul stuff before, but never spat it out. It's too rude, and all that stuff about the calorie content is rubbish. I sometimes worry that vegetarians can't call themselves vege if they suck cock... but this morning I worked it out properly = vegans can't give blow jobs (or can't swallow anyway, though that would be akin to a vegan chewing a lamb chop, but not swallowing it), but veges can, as spunk is a meat by-product, in the same way that milk is.
Quite clearly, from my in-depth thinking about oral sex, and fellatio in particular, I spent the night sucking a cock. That makes it sound really bad, but it's honestly not! I had one of the most passionate nights ever- without even having sex.
After my ballet class last night, I went up to Camden to meet an old friend from sixth form. We were just going to head round to a friend's for a smoke and some beers. Anyway, so me and him always kiss and hug a lot, and hold hands and so on. But this time- for the first time in the five years we've known each other- we were both single. Pretty soon we were snogging. When he told me that he'd wanted to do that for so long, all I could reply was "I thought you never would". We went inside, and watched some rubbish TV, and joked around. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. At about midnight, me, him and his friend went back to his. This friend had to sleep on the sofa, but the sofa was in my friend's room, as his room doubled up as the living room. The moment this other guy was out of the room, we were all over each other. We got in bed, and we were like teenagers, which I suppose was apt, as that was what we were when we first met. We couldn't have sex with this other guy in the room, but for some reason we felt that oral sex was okay...
My heart skips a beat just thinking about it.
Quite clearly, from my in-depth thinking about oral sex, and fellatio in particular, I spent the night sucking a cock. That makes it sound really bad, but it's honestly not! I had one of the most passionate nights ever- without even having sex.
After my ballet class last night, I went up to Camden to meet an old friend from sixth form. We were just going to head round to a friend's for a smoke and some beers. Anyway, so me and him always kiss and hug a lot, and hold hands and so on. But this time- for the first time in the five years we've known each other- we were both single. Pretty soon we were snogging. When he told me that he'd wanted to do that for so long, all I could reply was "I thought you never would". We went inside, and watched some rubbish TV, and joked around. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. At about midnight, me, him and his friend went back to his. This friend had to sleep on the sofa, but the sofa was in my friend's room, as his room doubled up as the living room. The moment this other guy was out of the room, we were all over each other. We got in bed, and we were like teenagers, which I suppose was apt, as that was what we were when we first met. We couldn't have sex with this other guy in the room, but for some reason we felt that oral sex was okay...
My heart skips a beat just thinking about it.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Today my overwhelming feeling has been one of boredom. Work has been dragging on, although I haven't got a great deal done. I just checked my logging stats and yes, I have done nothing.
Last night I went out on my pseudo-date. We went to see "de battre mon coeur s'est arrete" at the Ritzy. It was really gripping. It's about a thug who decides that he wants to be a concert pianist. I really enjoyed it. The violence was more real and effective than a lot of other films that have far more violence. Then me and my "date" walked over to Herne Hill, and had dinner at some place on the corner- I can't remember the name of it. I don't think he'll want to see me again. He said I was very opinionated and that I shouldn't be so ambitious and ruthless. I was a bit bored, really, by the conversation. He's very nice, but we fundamentally disagree on things like whether taking risks is a good thing. Still, after half a bottle of wine, I was fine, and talked away regardless. He walked me to my door (via the garage as I'd smoked all my fags- damn chainsmoking!!), and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I hate that awkwardness you get when you've slept with someone, and then you see them again, and you just think "hmmm, I must have been really fucking drunk".
Thinking about men who you don't want to see again, I haven't heard from the French guy for a while. It was actually the day after I'd shagged the guy I was on the date with yesterday: I had a dinner party, although I was still really pissed. We all drank lots of wine, and then we kissed. Then as I got more and more drunk, we kissed some more. At about 2am we ended up at his house, snogging on the sofa. I must have suddenly sobered up as then I made an excuse and legged it home. The next day, he got my number. That was at about midday. By 8pm he'd rung me 3 times and sent me 4 messages. Urgh. I finally spoke to him and told him that I didn't want to talk to him and that I'd been very drunk and sorry etc, and I've been studiously ignoring him ever since.
Anyway, the guy I fancy hasn't called. When I spoke to him on thursday, he said he'd call at the beginning of next week (so that's this week). Well, it's wednesday now, and still no word. I thought I sensed in his voice that he wasn't really interested, but I thought I was being paranoid. I know he's studying and everything, but surely he can find 5 minutes sometime to call? Or if he's not interested, why isn't he man enough to say so? I really dislike all those psychological games. I really appreciate it when people are just honest- if you like me, say so; if not, say so- or say nothing (and don't go out on a date and act like you like me!!). I'd much rather be insulted than taken for a fool.
There's my rant about the state of love and romance over. For now anyway.
Last night I went out on my pseudo-date. We went to see "de battre mon coeur s'est arrete" at the Ritzy. It was really gripping. It's about a thug who decides that he wants to be a concert pianist. I really enjoyed it. The violence was more real and effective than a lot of other films that have far more violence. Then me and my "date" walked over to Herne Hill, and had dinner at some place on the corner- I can't remember the name of it. I don't think he'll want to see me again. He said I was very opinionated and that I shouldn't be so ambitious and ruthless. I was a bit bored, really, by the conversation. He's very nice, but we fundamentally disagree on things like whether taking risks is a good thing. Still, after half a bottle of wine, I was fine, and talked away regardless. He walked me to my door (via the garage as I'd smoked all my fags- damn chainsmoking!!), and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I hate that awkwardness you get when you've slept with someone, and then you see them again, and you just think "hmmm, I must have been really fucking drunk".
Thinking about men who you don't want to see again, I haven't heard from the French guy for a while. It was actually the day after I'd shagged the guy I was on the date with yesterday: I had a dinner party, although I was still really pissed. We all drank lots of wine, and then we kissed. Then as I got more and more drunk, we kissed some more. At about 2am we ended up at his house, snogging on the sofa. I must have suddenly sobered up as then I made an excuse and legged it home. The next day, he got my number. That was at about midday. By 8pm he'd rung me 3 times and sent me 4 messages. Urgh. I finally spoke to him and told him that I didn't want to talk to him and that I'd been very drunk and sorry etc, and I've been studiously ignoring him ever since.
Anyway, the guy I fancy hasn't called. When I spoke to him on thursday, he said he'd call at the beginning of next week (so that's this week). Well, it's wednesday now, and still no word. I thought I sensed in his voice that he wasn't really interested, but I thought I was being paranoid. I know he's studying and everything, but surely he can find 5 minutes sometime to call? Or if he's not interested, why isn't he man enough to say so? I really dislike all those psychological games. I really appreciate it when people are just honest- if you like me, say so; if not, say so- or say nothing (and don't go out on a date and act like you like me!!). I'd much rather be insulted than taken for a fool.
There's my rant about the state of love and romance over. For now anyway.
There's nothing nicer than...
Actually, there are plenty of things that are nicer. But I do love the smell of fabric conditioner, and nice clean clothes in general. I was drying some clothes on the radiator in my room, and when I woke up this morning there was a lovely smell... I don't know what it reminds me of, as when I was growing up we never had the radiators on, let alone clothes drying on them (they were usually outside). But it really is a lovely smell, it makes me want to snuggle. I think that I have an inbuilt snuggle reflex. If there is something that I can snuggle into, I will give it a go, whatever it is!!
Brushing my teeth is another of my favourite things. It's strange, as I never think it's going to be that much fun, but once I start, I can't stop. I have a pretty cool pink toothbrush, which makes it extra fun. Sometimes I get a bit carried away. My ex used to make me stop after 10 minutes of brushing as he said I'd brush my teeth away. I do really enjoy it though. My toothbrush is battery operated, so my teeth get extra clean, and I make sure I brush every possible bit of tooth. I think I'm so obsessive about this because I have a real fear of my teeth falling out. Sometimes I have dreams where all my teeth are wobbly, and I have to try and push them back in. I wake up feeling so relieved that I still have teeth in my mouth. So now I brush my teeth for... hmm, sometimes I guess it's up to half an hour a day. That's pretty bad. But that's with flossing and everything (I have very cramped teeth so flossing is very difficult). And then to finish off, I use mouthwash. There's nothing like this rigmarole to set you up for the day. I don't know why I've just written so much about brushing my teeth.... I think I only realised how much I like it this morning, so excuse my enthusiasm.
Listening to music outside in the cold is something else that I really like. By this, I don't mean a sort of winter-glastonbury experience. It's more of a listening-to-mp3-while-sitting-at-the-train-station kind of experience. It combines two of my fabourite things- 1) listening to music, and 2) that feeling in your cheeks when it's cold but you have a nice warm scarf on.
Brushing my teeth is another of my favourite things. It's strange, as I never think it's going to be that much fun, but once I start, I can't stop. I have a pretty cool pink toothbrush, which makes it extra fun. Sometimes I get a bit carried away. My ex used to make me stop after 10 minutes of brushing as he said I'd brush my teeth away. I do really enjoy it though. My toothbrush is battery operated, so my teeth get extra clean, and I make sure I brush every possible bit of tooth. I think I'm so obsessive about this because I have a real fear of my teeth falling out. Sometimes I have dreams where all my teeth are wobbly, and I have to try and push them back in. I wake up feeling so relieved that I still have teeth in my mouth. So now I brush my teeth for... hmm, sometimes I guess it's up to half an hour a day. That's pretty bad. But that's with flossing and everything (I have very cramped teeth so flossing is very difficult). And then to finish off, I use mouthwash. There's nothing like this rigmarole to set you up for the day. I don't know why I've just written so much about brushing my teeth.... I think I only realised how much I like it this morning, so excuse my enthusiasm.
Listening to music outside in the cold is something else that I really like. By this, I don't mean a sort of winter-glastonbury experience. It's more of a listening-to-mp3-while-sitting-at-the-train-station kind of experience. It combines two of my fabourite things- 1) listening to music, and 2) that feeling in your cheeks when it's cold but you have a nice warm scarf on.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Another day goes by
Yet another day has gone past without me doing any work. Well, that's not entirely true, I did lots of work in the morning and early afternoon. I had to get in nice (?) and early to have a meeting with my manager to ask for a pay rise. She agreed with me, although frankly, she'd have to be quite mean not to. I'm living below the poverty line (well, nearly....). So I guess that was a success.
This afternoon I wrote my CV and applied for a new job, where they pay a lot more, and where my skills would actually be used. I think I wrote quite a good covering letter in the end. It's so hard when you know that you would be so good at a job but you have to convince other people that you would be. I know for a fact that I could do that job, but I guess I'll have to wait and see if they agree. I have another load of application forms to fill in tonight as well.
For some reason I have been absolutely starving for the last couple of days. Last night I was lying in bed thinking about how hungry I was, when I'd had a big (and very tasty) supper. I was actually counting the hours til breakfast! Then by lunch time today my stomach was almost digesting itself. I tried to justify it by claiming that it was because I had breakfast very early (which is true, but still!). And now I'm hungry again. I think maybe I have a worm or something. Everyone at work today was saying that I was looking very skinny, but I think that's the clothes I'm wearing (not to mention the good bra I'm wearing) making me look very thin with big tits. A bit like a manga figure I suppose, though not a cartoon.
I'm going to the cinema tonight, to see "The Beat That Skipped My Heart" or something like that. I'm going with this guy I slept with a couple of weeks ago. He's a nice guy, but he's too short (I won't get into my height-rant now, that's for another day). Still, it'll be nice to go to the cinema and it's close to my house anyway.
This afternoon I wrote my CV and applied for a new job, where they pay a lot more, and where my skills would actually be used. I think I wrote quite a good covering letter in the end. It's so hard when you know that you would be so good at a job but you have to convince other people that you would be. I know for a fact that I could do that job, but I guess I'll have to wait and see if they agree. I have another load of application forms to fill in tonight as well.
For some reason I have been absolutely starving for the last couple of days. Last night I was lying in bed thinking about how hungry I was, when I'd had a big (and very tasty) supper. I was actually counting the hours til breakfast! Then by lunch time today my stomach was almost digesting itself. I tried to justify it by claiming that it was because I had breakfast very early (which is true, but still!). And now I'm hungry again. I think maybe I have a worm or something. Everyone at work today was saying that I was looking very skinny, but I think that's the clothes I'm wearing (not to mention the good bra I'm wearing) making me look very thin with big tits. A bit like a manga figure I suppose, though not a cartoon.
I'm going to the cinema tonight, to see "The Beat That Skipped My Heart" or something like that. I'm going with this guy I slept with a couple of weeks ago. He's a nice guy, but he's too short (I won't get into my height-rant now, that's for another day). Still, it'll be nice to go to the cinema and it's close to my house anyway.
Some facts about me
1. Almost everyone I've ever met knows someone who looks just like me.
2. I used to really like Natasha Kaplinsky, but now I don't.
3. I know a lot about Formula 1.
4. I love walking in the winter and standing on frosty leaves, wrapped up nice and warm.
5. I still don't really know what I want to do when I grow up.
6. I'm one of the most stubborn people in the world.
2. I used to really like Natasha Kaplinsky, but now I don't.
3. I know a lot about Formula 1.
4. I love walking in the winter and standing on frosty leaves, wrapped up nice and warm.
5. I still don't really know what I want to do when I grow up.
6. I'm one of the most stubborn people in the world.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Nat West
If there is one thing that is always guaranteed to piss me right off it's Nat West. On Friday, as I was lying in my bed feeling really ill, I got a call from some bimbo wanting to talk about my account. Ignoring my pleas of illness, she insisted that I do something about my account, or else she'd send the boys round, or something like that. Fucks sake. I told her that there was nothing I was going to do about it that day, and that she'd have to hold her pretty little horses, and that I'd do it on Monday. So today I trekked down to my local branch, brandishing £30 to pay into my account. The queue was enormous, but of course there were only 3 cashiers. Obviously in the rural location of London Bridge at lunchtime, they weren't expecting many people in. Some stupid moron tried to convince me to put my money in an envelope and post it into some tardis. I said no, unsurprisingly, and told her that I wouldn't post my cash anywhere, least of all a bank with one of the worst records of accountability and effectiveness, which she didn't take too kindly. After what seemed like five years, especially with some fat, smelly man behind me breathing like Darth Vadar, I finally got to the cashier. Only to be told that my account was dormant and I wasn't able to pay anything in.
I despair. I fucking hate NatWest. I wish I'd never gone £1500 overdrawn with them, the bastards.
I despair. I fucking hate NatWest. I wish I'd never gone £1500 overdrawn with them, the bastards.
This whole blog thing is a whole new world for me to get my head around. My main quandry is: can you tell people that you've read their blog? For example, I was reading a friend's the other day, and on saturday I told him that I'd read it. He was actually happy. But I can imagine that some people wouldn't be so happy, though why, I don't know, seeing as it's on the internet for all to see.
Is it permissable to tell people you've read their blog, or does that cross a boundary? I know detatchment and separation makes it easier for people to write their feelings down, so, to me, it seems like quite a grey area. Personally, I have no problems with anyone reading this, or thinking whatever they like about it. Why on earth would I mind? I doubt I'm going to start revealing the hidden secrets of my mind and soul here, and if I do, then enjoy it. Whatever.
I think that Debretts needs updating. There's now a section on mobile phone etiquette, so I think next there needs to be something about blogging. I really love Debretts. It's such a great book. More people should read it and abide by it. Though having said that, I also like turning into a deliquent as the week draws to a close. There's nothing better than getting stupidly drunk and falling asleep under a coat on a sofa, hugging a dj.
Is it permissable to tell people you've read their blog, or does that cross a boundary? I know detatchment and separation makes it easier for people to write their feelings down, so, to me, it seems like quite a grey area. Personally, I have no problems with anyone reading this, or thinking whatever they like about it. Why on earth would I mind? I doubt I'm going to start revealing the hidden secrets of my mind and soul here, and if I do, then enjoy it. Whatever.
I think that Debretts needs updating. There's now a section on mobile phone etiquette, so I think next there needs to be something about blogging. I really love Debretts. It's such a great book. More people should read it and abide by it. Though having said that, I also like turning into a deliquent as the week draws to a close. There's nothing better than getting stupidly drunk and falling asleep under a coat on a sofa, hugging a dj.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Yesterday I felt very lonely all of a sudden, and thought it would be hanging over me for a while. But today I feel fine.
I looked for a new job last night, I didn't find anything. I think I need to readjust my expectations, and accept that my degree is worthless and I am as good as unemployable.
Something nice did happen last night. I called my best friend from sixth form. He says he'll come to visit me next weekend, though his idea of a plan has always been rather fluid. Still, it's nice to talk to people from back in the day.
This morning I trapped my finger in a door. It now has that quite pleasant numb feeling. Like I imagine Flat Stanley felt. Though of course I'm not planning on shipping my finger in an envelope to see its friend. That would be stupid, it has 9 other friends in very close proximity.
I looked for a new job last night, I didn't find anything. I think I need to readjust my expectations, and accept that my degree is worthless and I am as good as unemployable.
Something nice did happen last night. I called my best friend from sixth form. He says he'll come to visit me next weekend, though his idea of a plan has always been rather fluid. Still, it's nice to talk to people from back in the day.
This morning I trapped my finger in a door. It now has that quite pleasant numb feeling. Like I imagine Flat Stanley felt. Though of course I'm not planning on shipping my finger in an envelope to see its friend. That would be stupid, it has 9 other friends in very close proximity.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Mobile phones- more trouble than they're worth?
It seems that now we have mobiles, there's an extra complexity in human interactions that I could happily do without. Before Mobiles (BM), people had to stick to plans. If people took your number, they were probably serious (or more serious, anyway). They couldn't send you a text, copping out of a call.
Now we have mobiles, people make plans and then change them at the last minutes, leaving you standing on the station platform dressed up to the nines with nowhere to go.
Or they don't call.
Or they text you, leaving you in complete disarray trying to decipher whether they have any feeling that can in any way be comparable to what you have for them (ie. a big fat crush).
And then there's this one: it's broken. Not mine (mine is forever threatening that course of action, but hasn't quite followed through), but his. This, of course, can mean only one thing: hours spent pondering "has my number just been blocked?", "will I ever speak to him, let alone SEE him, again?" and the such like. It's not conducive to... well, anything really.
I wish we could go back to the good old days where plans meant something and a call was a call was a call.That said, those days were pretty rubbish. I got very cold waiting around all the time.
Now we have mobiles, people make plans and then change them at the last minutes, leaving you standing on the station platform dressed up to the nines with nowhere to go.
Or they don't call.
Or they text you, leaving you in complete disarray trying to decipher whether they have any feeling that can in any way be comparable to what you have for them (ie. a big fat crush).
And then there's this one: it's broken. Not mine (mine is forever threatening that course of action, but hasn't quite followed through), but his. This, of course, can mean only one thing: hours spent pondering "has my number just been blocked?", "will I ever speak to him, let alone SEE him, again?" and the such like. It's not conducive to... well, anything really.
I wish we could go back to the good old days where plans meant something and a call was a call was a call.That said, those days were pretty rubbish. I got very cold waiting around all the time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)