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...
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