Starwars, goats, Wales and Julie Andrews

I went home for a week, it was nice. I ate all sorts of cakes and didn't drink for a which I am sure my liver is very thankful for.

Then I visited my dad in Wales, the drive took ages and my little brother who was navigating kept thinking we were either on the wrong motor way or that we had missed an important turning. We did arrive because I completed ignored his advice, my dad lives on a house on a remote hill in the middle of no-where. I used to think my mothers house was remote but it isn't at the end of a two mile long drive part of which is up an extremely steep hill. You really get your money's worth when you send post to my dad, that stamp is damn good value.

The house is some-what ramshackle, this is in part due to the extremely large dog that lives there and the trio of snooty cats. The farm is spotless, almost clinical in it's neat rows of goats and bails of hay which makes the grunge of the house even more strange.

I spent some time with my dad, and my little brother. I realised I don't really like my dad that much, we have nothing in common really and he hasn't done much in his life to be proud of. Which is a bit strange, I mean not liking your dad is weird in itself. Even Luke Skywalker, when he was extremely drunk in the pub with Han would probably be abit proud of his dad, I mean he was one bad ass mo-fo he was evil but he was effectively evil.

In some ways it was easier when my father was a pantomime villian who didn't get old or seems so pathetic.

Wales was extremly cold, we nearly got snowed in and I couldn't wait to leave. My bed was riddle with fleas so I got covered in bites. Even the baby goats got dull after a while.

I was feeling a bit blue on the way into work but I listened to my new album on my Ipod, the best of Disney. It is impossible to feel glum when Julie Andrews is singing about spoons full of sugar at you.

Trousers the great debate

I am wearing quite tight trousers today, they aren't the tightest trousers I own by they are causing debate in the office. The current break down is girls like them as they are tight and the boys don't like them because they are tight.

Of course some of the chaps giving an opinion are Austrialian and as such cannot be trusted for sartorial advice, he used to wear a necklace.

I think the main problem is that they are evening trousers and it is very early in the morning for that sort of thing.

I'm going back to Devon tomorrow for a whole blissful week off. I'm looking forward to home cooked food and quality time with dogs.

...

Last night I sang a duet with B about Peter Stringfellow and then we freestyle composed a lovely little song about how taking Illegal minicabs is hot.

My eyes are stinging because the only liquids in my body are alcoholic.

What a great evening.

One of the most delightful things...

Is waiting for the news of a secret flower delivery, at any moment I should get an email or a phone call about it to thank me and it is making my whole body tingle slightly, this could just be due to the coffee I just had. Actually the more I think about it the more sense that makes.

I think I rate it even higher than the way your wee smells funny after you eat asparagus and that is pretty damn good.

The Spirit of Music

B stayed over all weekend which was fun, we actually spent most of the day in different rooms as she had to write the proposal for her book and I had to watch 24 series 4.

This worked rather well, and felt jolly grown up. Then we saw Brokeback Mountain and talked about cowboys bumming each other. I liked the film but it filled me with a desire to go camping and also made me feel a bit sad.

On Sunday we watched Phantom of the Opera which was good and made me want lots of frock coats, everyone in Brokeback Mountain was very badly dressed so it was good to balance that out with the fine sartorial style of Phantom of the Opera.

Hanging around with girls.

Well B is here, working on her book. We are spending time together in a terribly grown up way. She has her specs on and everything.

I think I may be getting dangerously close to asking her out and becoming one of those awfully smug couples I am typically damning about. Lets look at the facts

1 - She is very funny and makes me laugh
2 - I fancy her
3 - She is nice
4 - No apparent drug issues or secret boyfriends
5 - She likes me back

But she is a girl and thus has the lurgy and things so everything has it's downsides.

Saying that I like her so much I even let her bring her Apple Mac over to the house to share my wireless connection, which is a sin before god but I just don't care. Family be damned and all that, I'm always going to be a PC chap and maybe dating a Mac girl can work after all...

No-one can resist the mighty power of cooking

So B came around, I cooked her lamb with rosemary and sweet potatoes which went down very well and I have enough lamb to last me for a week. I like cooking for people, I am going to have to make it my mission to do it a bit more this year, maybe even host a party or two.

While the masterpiece was cooking we drank lots of red wine and danced to jazz. Then she played dressing up in my clothes for a bit and I learnt that my shoes look disturbing on her. Some more red wine was drunk and we talked about more nonsense. She also admired my two most fabulous ties and was impressed by my cravats, the lady knows how to make a man feel good.

All in all a very good day, I made us coffee in the morning, proper coffee so I am positively tingling with caffeine.

Tonight she is going to cook for me at her house, I'm going to go to East London and everything which will be a real adventure.

Girls are ace.

Moral Fibre

Last night I discovered I had moral fibre, who would have thought eh? I went to K's house, she was already slightly drunk by the time I arrived and she had a few cocktails while making supper. It was all very pleasant and I left at 11pm.

Nothing even remotely rude happened and we talked about some silly things while she smoked at me. The two main things I remember was how Valentines day is 'Romantic Rape' on men, as they are forced to be romantic by the woman, I rather liked that so I am going to use it as much as possible today.

The other one is that people who date should have compatible taste in underwear, I'm not sure how one can classify one's taste in underwear but I shall raise the point today with the girls and see if we can devise a system.

From Ealing with love...

I have an invite to supper at K's house tonight, I said yes but I am having regrets. I think she may try and do the sex on me which is wrong because she has a boyfriend AND it's quite hard to say no when she does things like that. She has legs and everything, and I am a boy.

Perhaps if I warn her beforehand that I'm not going to do anything rude with her? I think only the Fonze could get away with such a statement.

Or perhaps I could just get a modicum of self control, but where is the fun in that?

Plans...

B is going to stay the night on Thursday, what fun eh? It would be Wednesday night but both of us have commitments to other things which we can't get out of. I like having girls sleeping over, men tend to make my room smell bad and don't look anywhere near as interesting when they are striding around in their pants.

I went for a lunch meeting today which mostly involved eating lots of dim-sum and talking about how to not be a professional, it went very well. I like not being that professional and if an important business thing means I have to take pretty girls out for ice-cream and then cocktails well I am prepared to go the distance. That is what capitalism is about.

On a slightly less chirpy note I have a bit of a temperature, it's probably just man flu but I don't want to have my schedule messed up by something like this. I have appointments to keep, sweating is not a good look and a nightmare to co-ordinate with.

Yesterday.

I learnt some important lessons yesterday.

1) If it doubt, wear fabulous pants. They were revealed to B yesterday and she even said 'ooooh' as she was so impressed by them.

2) Just happening to have champers and strawberries to hand is always good. It was through complete chance, while I always have champagne in the fridge the strawberries were around for my experiments with fruit drinks.

3) The delay between removing the metal bit on the top of the cork in a bottle of champagne and it firing off can be used to make you look very cool.

Presumptive Pants

Sorry about the last post, I don't want this to be a sad blog.

Anyway back to the important business. B is coming over today to introduce me to Dirty Dancing. I have already spent a whole day cleaning my room (which is a miracle in itself), and now the important business of choosing the correct underwear comes into play. Viewing of said pants probably won't happen, but if does I should have nice pants on? or is that presumptive? If I am wearing my really flash pants she would know I was thinking about her seeing them.

So what level of pants swishness should I wear?

The black dog.

When Winston Churchill spoke of depression he said it was like a black dog at the edge of his vision. All this stuff with my father is clearly having an effect on me, people are talking to each other about me and saying things like 'I'm worried about him' I know this because every now and then I get a frantic phone call from my mother to check I'm okay.

I'm okay, I think, for now. I can tell that soon I may go off the rails, like I did when my parents marriage broke up. I can feel misadventure beckoning me, it stands to one side like a harlequin with a malevolent glint on it's mask. I know that I would very much like to go with it, into the night and experience something new, and I know I will have a great time. The downside is the mornings, for me the worst time is around 4am when you can't sleep and you know you won't be able to sleep and however brilliant that extra bottle of champagne sounded earlier you are paying for it now.

Why is self destruction so alluring? Or is it just the easy way out of a troubling time? I'm trying to maintain an air of detachment so I can work out what I should do, but it is hard. I think I do actually need some time off, to get away from it all and mentally reset my mind.

Or maybe I just shouldn't type while drunk.

Kenya lady becomes B.

Well the first meeting with Kenya lady (who will now been know as B) went jolly well. We went to the Troubadour shared a very nice bottle of wine and talked about how the outlawing of dueling was responsible for the collapse of polite society and that Camden should never be experienced with out some sort of sedative.

It was proper pub nonsense, 100% pure uncut. I love a bit of nonsense me. So this scored B valuable points, plus she doesn't appear to already have a boyfriend which is another plus.

As I write this we are co-ordinating a movie watching sesson at her flat on Sunday, she is going to be giving a lecture on 'Dirty Dancing and cultural implications of having the time of your life.' I'm going to be leading a seminar on 'The Adventures of Baron Munchousen, how true adventure starts with a frockcoat' Drinking will be involved and being on sofas. Which sounds suspiciously like a second date, which is because it is.

Last night I went to an art gallery thingy and drank lots of rosé with people I used to know, it was awfully pleasant and lots of old friendships were renewed through the medium of drinking so much your legs go numb.