All Work

I didn't sign up for twelve hour days, I'm sure I didn't. I don't mind an early start; I've always been better in the mornings, but the late nights are killing me. I was in the toilet at work last night at 9:30 looking at my face in the mirror, noticing how like scrambled egg my make up looked after that long on my skin and wondering whether I could leave and not look as though I wasn't a 'team player' (as the rest of the team were still there). I did actually leave about 15 minutes later but the tiredness made me irrationally emotional. I was on the escalator at Notting Hill tube and a busking saxophonist was playing 'Baby I Love Your Way' by Peter Frampton which actually made me well up.

Tonight is a big in-house black tie event which we're all obliged to attend. I bought a new dress for it which is quite exciting (£110 down to £35 - gotta love the sales). I'm hoping it will give me the chance to blow off some steam and get to know my colleagues a bit better as I just haven't had time yet.

I'm looking forward to getting the house move out the way this weekend. Once that's organised I'll be able to concentrate on the rest of my life properly. There's loads of organisation to do but I can't let myself feel overwhelmed. Coupled with the sleep deprivation I'm likely to end up on the roof with a gun and a hostage demanding a pay rise, some Kalm tablets and a bucket of Merlot.

A Little Bit Country

I stood, shivering outside the imposing Centrepoint building at Tottenham Court Rd, stamping my feet in an effort to keep warm on the first day it snowed in the UK for a year. My Creative Zen was blasting Lady Sovreign into my ears; something energetic to prevent my mind from dwelling on the sharp winds whistling around me. During the second verse of 'Random', I felt a tap on my shoulder. S had appeared, wrapped in the cosiest looking jacket and beaming broadly at me. We hugged and all at once I forgot the cold, I forgot the touts jostling us, trying to get us to buy tickets for Jamie T at the Astoria, and my little world was filled with him.
Yes, yes, I know it's melodramatic but a) I think we've established I have a tendency in that direction and b) I hadn't seen S for 10 days and I missed him. We went to 101, usually a place I like to avoid like an ex-boyfriend but on a chilly Wednesday night it was practically empty plus it was happy hour on the cocktail menu (I'd drink in an abbatoir if they had a deal on drinks). We drank White Russians and laughed constantly while I revelled in the joy of being near him again. There's always a little physical awkwardness between us when we first meet, neither one wanting to be the first to touch or sit right next to the other. It doesn't usually last that long but I've realised that he's as afraid of rejection no matter how minor, as I am. I wonder what's behind that particular emotional door...

S had tickets to a gig at The Borderline, a small venue near Greek Street famed for it's Country and Western associations and big name bands that like to patronise it with intimate, private gigs - often under a psydeudonym so only those in the know, know. We went to see Railroad Earth; a band I hadn't heard of until S lent me a couple of CDs of theirs. They're pure, Blue Grass Country hailing from (I think) New Jersey who hadn't played in the UK before. They are one of S's favourite bands and he was beyond excited. The venue is indeed, tiny and smoky but amazingly atmospheric. We found a great spot, seated atop a waist-high cupboard (which, embarrassingly S had to help me up onto - I have very weak biceps) right next to the stage. After the support acts finished, the place filled up and pretty soon there were long-haired blokes and cute chicks dosy-doing and generally having some kind of giant hoe-down. It was a great atmosphere and I found myself completely absorbed in the music, smiling involuntarily at the exuberance of the fiddler who was nearest us on the stage. S made a point of holding my hand or touching me in some way throughout. During my favourite song of theirs also called Railroad Earth; a beautifully whimsical acoustic track, he leant over and kissed me for the first time that night. I'll say one thing for the boy; he's certainly got timing.

Earlier that evening we'd started talking about movies and, knowing my love of Arnie films he suggested we should have a Predator night. This rapidly grew into a 'schlock night' featuring Predator and Running Man and to counterbalance that, a 'comedy night' with The Three Amigos and Spinal Tap. He asked when we should do it and I suggested Friday night, knowing my housemates were out. Luckily he was free although we couldn't decide which theme to go with for movies so we're going to do The Three Amigos then Predator (it's our thing we can change the rules). I'm going to cook - probably some three alarm chilli in honour of The Three Amigos and I think S might bring some tequila (seriously).

We went our separate ways a little after 11pm and at the scene of our first kiss, in Tottenham Court Rd tube we kissed again. I whispered something about how spending the evening but not the night with him kind of sucked and he agreed although he did point out that we were seeing each other in two day's time and that would definitely include a night (beyond excited about this).

Elsewhere the new job is calming down a little now the pitch is out of the way. I am able to try and get to know my colleagues and the job a little better. Unfortunately I am now dreaming in Powerpoint slides due to massive overexposure in recent days.

Our official farewell to K in Soho last Saturday night was a lovely evening. We ate Italian then the five of us tripped off into Soho and found a bar on Carnaby Street. We all got tremendously drunk which was pretty much the point.
She actually leaves this Sunday so on Saturday night, A, K and I are all staying in for chick flicks, wine and junk food (your typical girls night in minus the face packs of our youth) as a special goodbye. It's going to be really sad and I'll miss her loads but on the plus side I have a new job to keep me busy, a new flat to settle into and a new man to make me smile.

Work/Life Balance

The cold has officially gone. The biblical plague of phlegm has dissipated and I'm free. Free to enjoy the unseasonable sunshine and spend Saturday frolicking in my glorious little corner of London. But wait...what's this? A desk...a computer...a boss. Hang on...this is work!!

Flashback to yesterday at around 4pm. I had worked every day until at least 7pm so I knew I wasn't getting out any time soon, even on a Friday. I'm in the kitchen making an overly sweet cup of tea when my line manager sidles in behind me and closes the door (no funny business, she's a girl).

"I just wanted to say you've done a fantastic job this week, especially on that pitch, really excellent. Everyone's impressed, they really are!"
"Yeeeeees...."
"Well, the thing is, the pitch is next week and...I mean I'm coming in too...but...could you come in tomorrow do you think?"
"Tomorrow as in Saturday? That tomorrow?"
"That'll be the one, yes."

I was supposed to be at a family party today. I love it when my family all get together; there's 26 of us and we basically congregate round the table in someone's house and stay there eating, drinking and laughing for anything up to seven hours. My family can get quite mediterranean about these things - must be the latent Spanish ancestry. I haven't seen them for five months but I knew it wasn't a request. So at 2pm today, clutching a large Starbucks latté and smoking furiously I made my way to the office. It's now 4.5 hours later and I'm still here. I've actually finished what I needed to do but I've missed my blog this week so I decided to post. Plus I've got to be in Soho at 8pm so there's really no point going home now.

Tonight is K's leaving drinks. The girls and I are all meeting at a generic Italian restaurant behind Topshop Oxford Circus to stuff ourselves and gossip relentlessly. It'll then be off into Soho to seek out a dark bar with no doubt even darker men and preferably huge cocktails to while away the night in the most hedonistic way we can afford (well it is January). Basically we want her last proper memory of London to be a fab one before NYC weaves it's magic spell and she decides to make the most of the fact that she's been given a 3 year visa... I'll probably cry tonight but that'll be more down to sheer exhaustion than anything else.

My friends are going through a lot right now. D is now about 2 months away from giving birth, CM's wedding is fast approaching (as is bridesmaid dress shopping for me!), A is deciding whether to embark on a relationship with a guy who is currently in NYC but is coming home in April plus she's moving with me and K is off to NYC. It's all go in the lives of my friends and I'm trying to be supportive and happy for all their endeavours but I feel shockingly self-obsessed at the moment. I think it's the result of my life having been so darned complicated of late. On the plus side things are slowing falling into place. Once we're in the flat and the job's settled down I should be a much better friend all round.

Things with S are still about as clear as a tricky question from Mensa. It's vexing, really. Are we seeing each other? Are we dating? Are we 'going out' (whatever that means)? After the call from him on Sunday night I heard nothing for ages. I was far too busy/ill to worry that much but I was determined not to crack and contact him first. It got to Thursday and I'd spent the afternoon thinking about him in the midst of work chaos and really wanted to email him. I resisted.
That evening, as I emerged from the tube a little after 9pm my voicemail went and he'd called me. Oh, the jubilation at the restoration of my power base! I called him back an hour later and we talked for ages. We're not seeing each other this weekend, we're both too busy but we are going to the gig on Wednesday night and having dinner first (I'm leaving work on time, I don't care what's going on - I do have a life outside here). I can't stop thinking about him. I'm starting to realise he's so right for me in so many ways. I think the next step will be to orchestrate a meeting with his friends. You can tell a lot about a man by his friends. Plus if they like you, you're a shoe-in (what does that mean, really?)

Right, going to finish off a couple more bits then it's a quick retouch of the old slap and off into the night for fun, frivolity and...

Busy, busy, busy

The new job is insane. I have never been so busy and it's only day two. The only way I can even post this is because I'm covering reception for half an hour so I'm essentially immune to people asking me to do things. I can't complain, I knew it would be like this. In contrast my last job was a total doss relatively speaking (although people did tend to creep up behind me and bellow things about missing revenue on a frighteningly frequent basis). I do have a head cold that could frighten a small child at fifty paces and is enough to put me off oysters for life which is draining my ability to feel dynamic. Perhaps when my sinuses open up and the first week is out the way things will seem slightly less surreal...

S and I saw each other on Saturday night for dinner, drinks and a sleep over. He stayed at mine which was lovely although in my drunken haze on Saturday night I did whisper breathlessly "I can't believe you're here; it feels like a dream!" He had the good grace to ignore that comment and not tease me the following day for being such a complete girl but I was fairly embarrassed all the same. It was true though - he makes me feel so amazingly high each time I'm with him that sometimes it does feel like a dream. I will make a mental note not to share these thoughts with him in future.
He sweetly rang me on Sunday night for a chat and to wish me luck for the new job. I'm besotted, I'm a smitten kitten...but the cards are remaining close to my chest. I can't afford to give anything away but it's getting harder and harder to resist.

Nerves

It's my last day at my current job. I am swaddled in an odd combination of sadness at leaving behind such a fabulous bunch of girls and nervous excitement about my new job.
First of all though there is the glamorously messy leaving party tonight for which we've all bought in around four tops each for 'trysies' (I love girls). I had my presentation yesterday when the boss was here and they bought me a large selection of items from my favourite make up brand; Benefit. They know me better than I thought they did. I will be debuting one of the sparkly eye shadows tonight, called enticingly, 'mint julep'. I am wearing my skinny jeans which will be teamed with a dressy top that hasn't seen the light of day for a good couple of years (does that qualify it as vintage?!). I weighed myself this morning and another 3lb have miraculously vanished meaning I have now lost 34lb in total. I feel hungry but happy.

A and I have found a flat which is fabulous news. Plus we get to stay in Fulham which is even better. I'm so relieved to have it sorted out before my new job starts. Just the packing to do now (hurrah).

Having got used to S being highly attentive with regard to emails and texts (pretty much every day) I became rather unsettled when I emailed him on Tuesday only to receive quite a short, non-lovely reply. I was off work on Wednesday afternoon for errand running and so I text him at the very end of the day to say hey...no reply. I tried not to worry that he'd perhaps changed his mind about me (shamefully it crossed my mind that one of the many ex-girlfriends he's in touch with had persuaded him to remove the 'ex' - see? told you I was insecure) and that he was probably just busy at work but by 9pm last night I was cross. I know it's early days but how hard is it to send someone a text mid-week to say 'really busy...talk soon etc'? Why do men only see everything in black and white? Why can't they spot the different shades of grey and subtle nuances that women do? Anyway, I called and there was no reply so I didn't leave a voicemail (I'd damaged my power base enough) but shortly afterwards he rang me back. It was an odd phone call. He sounded tense as he explained how he'd been having issues at work and was close to quitting and that he'd been out a lot in the evenings. I tried to be upbeat but as usual I was reduced to shyness and nerves due to being on the backfoot as the one doing the 'chasing'.
It does seem though that we are getting together tomorrow night and that he is venturing down to West London to come to my favourite family-run Italian restaurant. Despite the slightly odd week (mainly in my head, admittedly), I am really looking forward to seeing him. I've freaked myself out by how much I like him though so I think I really need to chill.

Anyway, this is likely to be my last post for a while because of the new job. I can't imagine I'll have much time so until I get the cash together to buy a laptop, I'll have to post as and when I have the time. It's a shame because this is rapidly becoming a very cathartic exercise.

Downsizing

I have started the mammoth clear out that signals yet another house move. It's fair to say I've moved around a lot since I first left home aged 21. In fact, this will be the eighth property I've called home in seven years which is both exhausting and quite sad. I am seemingly incapable of putting down roots anywhere. I really thought by the age of 28 I would have sussed out the job, would have the home and might have even been married, if not in a very serious relationship. I know I'm not unusual; many of my friends my age are single and still sharing a house with other singles. Plus, look at Sex And The City and Friends; it's certainly not freakish for me to be in this situation but it does feel rather...hollow. Not to mention the shame I am starting to feel at not yet producing grandchildren or even a wedding for my parents to get all misty-eyed over. As people around me begin to tie the knot and drop some sprogs I can't help wondering: What's wrong with me?

Anyway, off we go again with boxes, packing tape, bubble wrap and van hire. Each time I move I have one of these major clear outs and each time it's very cathartic and nourishing for the soul but somehow all the junk creeps back in. Last time I moved, I sent an entire long-wheel base transit (you pick up the lingo when you book as many vans as I do) to the dump full of furniture and excess trash. I made three separate charity shop trips with books, clothes and ornaments and yet somehow last night I still managed to bag up seven sacks of clothing, shoes and books. I was quite ruthless about the clothing. I got rid of all my fat clothes, all the random summer clothes I haven't worn for years and a multitude of coats I'll never wear again. During the course of this I unearthed a pair of skinny jeans I had relegated to the back of the wardrobe on the offchance I might fit into them again one day. I shut my eyes tightly while I stepped into them, expecting disappointment but joy of joys they fit! That was the highlight of the evening.

This morning I managed to drag one sack to the charity shop in the pouring rain (fun!). The others will have to be taken as and when I venture in that direction. Tonight after yet another flat viewing I think I'll start on the kitchen stuff I don't need. After that it'll be onto the furniture - I am on a mission to downsize!

Speaking of downsizing I managed to lose, in a single week, the 5lb I put on over Christmas plus one more which I was extremely pleased about. Admittedly I have been absolutely rigid with my eating (despite homemade sausage rolls in the office!) and have been largely famished since 2nd January but it'll be worth it. Seven more pounds to go and I'll be the slimmest I've been in around four years. Now that's the sort of motivation I can use!

The Big Three

Is it possible that I'm on track for The Big Three?
Surely not. Surely the Holy Grail of every twenty-something girl's existence can't be within my grasp! I feel as though I'm in the presence of a rare species of deer and if I make any sudden movements, step on a twig or in any way let it know that I know it's there, it'll bolt.

In case you don't know, the principle of The Big Three is very simple. It's based on the premise that everything in life can be placed into three very clear categories. Home, Love and Work. It's generally accepted that it is possible to achieve satisfaction or even happiness in two of these three areas but the minute you look as though you're on track to conquer the third, it's highly likely that a problem will crop up in one of the others. It's just Murphy flexing his muscles and making sure none of us forget about his Law (who was this totalitarian bastard, anyway?? Answers on a postcard...).
However here we are, not even a month into 2007 and I have a very exciting new job starting next Monday, I'm on track to find a new flat which will hopefully tick the boxes (especially as we have realised we need to expand our limits with regard to price) and have met a man who is astonishing me, thrilling me and making me laugh in equal measure and seems to really like me. I have to treat this theory like a solar eclipse: I musn't look directly at it.

My date with S on Saturday was fantastic. Even though we did go bowling (I've now somehow been twice in the space of a month having successfully avoided it for twelve years). He later cooked for me at his flat; a simple but delicious menu of Monkfish wrapped in pancetta with a celeriac, carrot and savoy cabbage mix in cream sauce. I was mesmerised as I stood in the kitchen doorway sipping red wine and occasionally chopping things in a supportive fashion. I've never had a man cook for me before and it is surprisingly arousing. We drank cold Muscadet and ate in the living room by the glow of his now rather stale Christmas tree's lights. We stayed up for hours just talking (his flatmate had tactfully decamped to her boyfriend's so we had the flat) and tentatively opened the Ex-File a little more. I am aware that it's rather early to be having these coversations but it really didn't feel like a fourth date...it had substance. Despite it being my Special Time (ironic capitals) I stayed over and, in bed, as we succumbed to the soporific effects of the wine and food, he murmured that he wanted to try and make a go of this and asked if I would give him a chance.

Lots of things tore through my mind at that point. I've only known you for a month. I haven't met any of your friends - will they like me? You haven't met any of mine - will they like you? You're still in touch with your exes and I'm insecure but will I be insecure with you or will I finally be happy? I haven't seen how you are around anyone else. I haven't seen you angry, sad, really drunk, really hungover, frustrated, disappointed, high or demonstrating any of the habits every human has, good or bad. I don't know if you get jealous, I don't know if you'll be bored by how limited my life has been so far. How can I launch myself into something with someone I feel I know so well but actually don't know at all? So what did I do with all these thoughts hurtling round my brain like skaters on an ice rink? I kissed his eyelids and I said yes.

There's a ridiculously trite saying that's probably stitched onto a million cushions that includes the line 'love like you've never been hurt'. That part has been going through my head a lot recently. I've had a catalogue of failed relationships but each time I meet someone new I conveniently forget the hurt, the anger, the dark, shouty, bleak nights that seem to go on forever and I pin my heart to my sleeve and dive right in. Am I really that desperate to achieve The Big Three?

Flats and Cats

I loathe flat hunting. I always feel quite excited at the prospect of finding another new girly pad and wonder whether I'll finally find the high-ceilinged, open-fireplaced apartment I wish for that is (miracle of miracles) within my budget. It's only after I've been dragged around the first mucky-carpeted mildew-bathroomed hovel by a letting agent eight years younger than me and wearing a Topman suit that my bubbles of optimism pop and I resign myself to the fact that my budget and my dream flat are as far apart as prawn crackers and actual prawns.
Still, not all of them have been horrendous although it does appear that without K, A and I are going to have to leave our little corner of West London for a slightly less salubrious corner of West London. It's a shame because I really started to feel at home there (kidnappings, street brawling, rats and mice notwithstanding). A and I are blitzing some viewings on Saturday so hopefully we'll find somewhere that ticks as many boxes as possible.
I'm shamefully having to borrow the money up front from my parents which I really hate. I have the cash it's just tied up in current house deposit and changing-job-mid-month pay horror. Luckily they still think I'm a pretty good daughter despite being monumentally shite with money but I am still consumed with guilt.

It would appear that S and I are getting together again on Saturday. He sent me a gorgeous email earlier this week apologising for coming on a bit strong (he wasn't) but saying how much he liked me. I reciprocated (it's only polite) and we've had a couple of long phone conversations since then. I can't get over how much we laugh together; we both seem to have an atypical propensity for abstract thought (his phrase not mine). The topics have ranged from what the 'J' in LL Cool J actually stands for (we concluded Jeremy), why it's acceptable to bury all pets in the garden except goldfish which must be flushed down the loo in a kind of Viking ritual, whether in fact I was insane for suggesting one should pre-poach cod in milk to make a fish pie and the most exciting sleb encounters we've had.

I'm not sure what we're doing at the weekend but I'm due to be surfing the crimson wave so whatever it is it won't involve sex (I just cannot go there...ever). Still, it's probably best not to start out whatever this is by basing it all on sex anyway. I am keen to make sure we can be friends, too. He does seem capable of commitment though as I found out when we briefly opened the Ex-Files last night. I found out he has lived with a girl before, and that they bought a cat together which she kept when they split up. I also found out that when they broke up he was so traumatised he jacked everything in and went travelling for 6 months. Hmmmm. The slightly worrying point there is that they still speak and in fact he was on the phone to her before he rang me. It's way to early for me to have an issue with that kind of thing but it's certainly a flag to be revisited if this gets serious. I tend to be extraordinarily insecure due to low self esteem and am very threatened by ex-girlfriends. Stupid really, being as they are 'exes'. I am also embarrassingly threatened by female friends of guys I date. I know why this is, I just don't know how to stop it. I should be prepared to be OK with it though as S shares a flat with a girl and seems to have many female friends. A bridge to be crossed when I reach it I suppose.
God I hate being so insecure, I really do. How does one actually get/find confidence?

I trace my issues back to my first serious relationship which was a cacophony of horror from pretty much the word go but I was inexplicably besotted and stuck with it through alcohol abuse, drug abuse, physical abuse, him having one child and then discovering he had another two year old by different woman a year into our relationship, prolonged disappearances of up to a week, affairs and constant physical put downs. It went on for two years and when I finally got the courage to leave him I was a shell, a husk of my former self. It's taken five years and two miscalculated relationships to get rid of most of the demons and here I am. Older, wiser, tougher (God I sound like that Aguilera woman) but still wracked with insecurity. I wish I could purge the last of it, I really do. Otherwise my only option is to give up on relationships, get a cat and start making my own jewellery out of shells.

Cold and New

The office is freezing beyond all sense. This is mainly due to it having been closed for over a week but also due to the fact that it's one, large, exposed-brick fridge and won't reach optimum concentrating-temperature until next Wednesday. I sit next to a gigantic wooden-framed window which has knifepoint draughts whistling in through every corner. We are all in our coats, those of us that didn't have the presence of mind to book today off in advance. I am typing with stiff little fingers (not the band, clearly).

New Year's Eve was a slightly odd event. K, F and I and a couple of other friends booked to go to a local pub which was charging a set fee but which offered free drinks all night and 3am closing. K called and booked it whilst we were at our respective families so it was done without us knowing the details. We turned up looking suitably glam (although I was in jeans) for a normal NYE free-for-all in a pub, only to discover it was black tie. It wasn't K's fault, they didn't mention this important point to her at any time during her three phone calls to organise it. They did let us in but having been geared up for a joyous, crowded, flirty NYE, we had to completely adjust our mindset as we were shown to our candlelit table in view of the pianist and handed a complimentary cocktail by a waitress who was better dressed than any of us. It was low key to say the least but we made it work by doing our best to drink our money back. I think we managed it.

The first task A and I had to perform on New Year's Day was disposing of the live mouse which we discovered stuck to one of Minty the Rat's old sticky traps which we'd (fortunately) left down. Awful thing to do with a hangover. This morning K, who is off work, rang to say she'd found another one so the pest people have been summoned.

So 2007 is upon us. A quick retrospective of 2006, which I originally did whilst very drunk at about 3am New Year's Day, filtered it down to these key events:

1. I moved to London (good)
2. I was made redundant from the job I moved to London for (bad)
3. I got another job but it turned out to be a huge mistake that bought me nothing but stress (bad)
4. I witnessed a kidnapping and ended up giving evidence in court (bad)
5. Our house was under seige from large, brown rat for over a month (bad)
6. I got dumped by The Ex after two years together (bad/good)
7. I saw two separate people getting the crap kicked out of them - one of them outside my house (bad)
8. I lost 2 stone (good)
9. My best friend is moving to New York (bad)
10. Turns out she's only going for 10 weeks (good)
11. I got a new job I'm very excited about (good)
12. I had a few salacious dates one of which ended in sex (goodish)
13. I joined a dating website and met S (good so far)
14. I appeared on Gordon Ramsay's The F Word and my interview was shown on TV (weird)

It's not as bad as I'd thought looking back although there are obvious events I could have done without. I am not entirely sure what I want from 2007 yet but to put it into one word wishes, I think this is about it: Success, Travel, Love, Education, Friends, Sex, Music. Yep...that'll do.

I had a date with S the night before NYE. We went for dinner which he booked in a pub near where he lives. In the past we've met in central London so the fact that he was dragging me to his neck of the woods (which is nowhere near mine) prompted me to conceal a clean pair of knickers, a toothbrush and my pill in my handbag. Good job I did because as we left the pub at closing time he asked me to spend the night with him. I'm not going to go into detail, suffice to say it was blissfully, completely, mind-blowingly wonderful and I didn't leave until 2pm the following day. I think this could be the start of something very interesting...