Spartan

I had a lovely weekend with the Peruvian. we lounged around reading like sleeping cats in sun beams, went a a party or two and saw a film.

It wasn't the most productive weekend off my life but it was one of the more pleasant ones. After seeing 300 I think I may have to give up the foppery and become a Spartan, those leather pants are a bit limiting but the rest of it seemed like jolly good fun, especially the beard growing.

Right I have to go pack now, I'm going to go down to Devon for a few days to see the family and things. It might be good time to start my new Spartan training regime. I'm going to have to get a sweatband for my head and the Rocky theme to listen to while running up steps.

Of Girls and Gods.

I went in to do some more consulting stuff yesterday. This involved sitting in a room with C and talking about girls and gods. Then I wrote a word document which I had to send to someone important which was 'why you should hire me for a week at great expense'. It was a bit like a thank you letter in advance.

Feeling full of vim and vigour C and I decided to pop into the local for a post work pint both saying that it would be nice to unwind a bit but not go crazy.

As we walked into a nice looking place I was telling him about this girl I met at a party who I had a dalliance with who worked in this area and we both laughed about how awkward it would be if I bumped into her.

Guess what happened next? I learnt that some sort of higher power has been watching too much Seinfeld.

It was terribly polite, she kept trying to grab my leg under the table and I told her about my sudden changes. After a bit she left, C said I drank like a English man and so we got ruinously drunk. I can remember doing shots of vodka in pints of cider. Then I got a lift some of the way home with some man in a mini and collapsed into bed.

While drunk I let this girl have my new phone number which is BAD. But I couldn't be directly rude to her, she is a very powerful woman in publishing and could destroy my career if she wanted to.

Trousers of speed

Yesterday I went to the Tate with my friend who I hadn't seen for ages. We played on the slides looked at art and then went to the Gilbert and George show. If you like strange things go and see the show.

As an additional challenge see if you can spot well known T.V. actor Martin Clunes in one of their paintings.

Then I went to the pub to meet another friend, and some more people joined us, including the Peruvian and we drank lots of beers while playing the matchstick game. It was a lovely evening and I stumbled home enjoyably ruined with a toothbrush for The Peruvian as since she had been staying over a few nights she should have one at my flat.

Yes I am aware this is a 'big step' but I've always been a big risk taker who laughs in the face of danger. Which is lucky because the slides at the Tate are surprisingly scary. Probably the third most scary artwork I've ever encountered.

Visiting a Viking

I popped over to see my friend the Viking yesterday. He brimming with vim and vigour because he is seeing the woman of his dreams who he has been lusting after since he first discovered girls. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy.

He is relocating to Devon to be with her, they are getting a house together and right now he is having a very slushy phone call with her. Bless.

I've got a free day today, I'm not sure what to do with it really. Suggestions would be welcome.

First day of a new world

I had my first day off official consulting today. The company I was working for was having some issues with the internet and a couple of other things so I got paid to go for lunch and then play with a lovely beagle. They insisted I bill them for the time as it had 'taken up my day'

So today I was the most expensive dog walker on the planet, I might get that put on the business cards.

In other news I got emailed a description of the coolest job in the world, the money isn't great. It's much better than my old job but the bar has been raised rather a lot recently but I think I'm going to take it for one day a week just for the kudos.

The results are in.

First off I am in no way saying that N looks or acts anything like Lady Catherine de Bourgh, quite the opposite N is a total sex leopard. I'm just using this picture to give you all an idea of the importance of her opinion.

Luckly N has decided that The Peruvian is lovely, in the brief conversation they had. She (N) is still disappointed in me for succumbing to the lure of being in a couple but in her infinite wisdom and grace has decided to give the Peruvian her blessing.

Phew, eh?

When ladies meet

I introduced the Peruvian to someone awfully special last night. She met one of my closest female friends who has been a far better judge of what I should do with my life than I ever good.

This friend correctly warned me about A, managed to get me to sort out things with my dad and a million other things. She has even met my Mum.

Anyway, her opinion is terribly important to me so her and the Peruvian meeting was an occasion of great importance and ceremony. My friend was playing a gig at Notting Hill Arts Club (Isn't it great when your chums are painfully cool?) so the meeting had to be short and slightly breathless before my friend, lets call her N had to jump onto stage and wow the crowed with her music.

She was brilliant, people were baying for more songs and at one point the entire mosh pit were robot dancing in between shouting Oy Vey!

The whole night was delightfully strange, there was a man wearing red tape on his nipples and a large wig - I don't know why. On one side of the club they played a Russia Ska version of 'These are a few of my favourite things' while people with giant paper mache heads bounced up and down.

I want a giant paper mache head now, I would wear it arond the home and when entertaining guests in casual way like a smoking jacket.

Dialogue

Me "I've got three questions for you."
Her "okay?"
Me "Do you want a coffee? Will you be my girlfriend. How do you take your eggs?"
Her "Yes please, Okay I've give it a try, Scrambled."

*Louche exits to prepare breakfast smiling*

Leaving

Well it was my leaving do and it was quite an experience. Through good fortune my (please note the possessive) Peruvian was back in the country so she joined me for what was a very moving night.

I was dressed up to the nines in a scrumptious new suit and shirt, but with out a tie so it didn't look like I had made an effort. I was also groomed like a show champion dog in Crufts. To say I looked like a proper fop would be an understatement.

It was very sad saying goodbye to everyone, the girls I knew terribly well, the ones I had only just started to get to know and everything in between. We were a family, in a way that most co-workers aren't. I'd been there for three years, and we had all been through a lot together. I'm going to miss the morning chats and the long afternoons in the pub, I know I'm going to stay in touch with them all but it won't be quite the same.

Strangely, well not that strangely really, the three people I didn't get in with so well weren't there which I think was a bit off. Yes, the evening was just awash with love by the fact they weren't there but it does strike me as bit wrong to not go to someone's leaving do.

The pub closed in the end so we stumbled into a cab and the Peruvian came back to mine to try and teach me Blackjack. She shuffled the deck in a terribly professional way and dealt me my first cards.

In my hand I had the rules for bridge and a joker, which cost me my shirt and one shoe.

Blackjack is complicated.

Oh my gosh

Well it's been quite a week. Monday seems like a million years ago. At the start of this week my old job ended and as of 1:30 today I'm going to be hiring my first person to help me out.

I don't even have a company yet, or even a company name or anything like that but I'm already taking on some extra people. It's very exciting but it is also making me feel a little bit sick, but that could just be due to the amount of coffee I've had this morning.

It seems like a different era when I was in a job I wasn't enjoying as much as I used to doing things that people didn't understand. Now I do things that people don't understand but I get treated like a demi-god for being able to do them, it's nice to finally get some respect for what I can do.

What makes it best is I'll still going to get to write nonsense which was my favourite part of my old job, well that and being surrounded by girls.

Well being a 'suit' is going shockingly well. I picked up so much work today that I'm going to have to hire some people to help me out. This is good, if a little alarming, I don't want to go into the whole corporate route if I can help it, even if you do get seduced by the bored wives of 'The Man'.*

The writing side of things is on hold for a bit, the book editor is going on holiday so I'm not going to be able to get any feedback from her until she gets back. It's been a day of delays for the fun stuff.

It's my official leaving do tomorrow and I have no idea what to wear. I think something black and sharp would be apt.

*no I didn't get seduced today.

Cool

I had a few meetings today about work stuff. One of them involved walking a dog the other involved drinking lots of cocktails, both meetings ended up with jobs (Not dog walking or being a barman) so it looks like my days of being a vagrant are drawing to an end. It was good while it lasted.

One of the jobs, the one with the cocktail focused interview, won't start for a month but will be so cool that it makes my teeth hurt just thinking about it. I'd like to do it, but I suppose like all things it will depend on the money.

I was so enthused I went to Trumpers and got a new fragrance. A chap embarking in a new direction needs a new scent.

Tomorrow I'm going to be doing some bits of work for people and then on Friday I'm going shopping. After all if I've got a new smell I should get a new look to go with it.

How to become a tramp, part 1

Well my first day of being unemployed went very well. I sat on a park bench for a bit and then in the evening I got extremely drunk, just like a proper vagrant.

Admittedly I got drunk in a pub with my chums, and the park bench was on the Heath after a run, but I'm sure I'll be swilling special brew and starting fights with bins in no time at all.

In lady news the Peruvian has asked me to go to a party with her which presents an interesting problem. What the dickens will I tell people when they ask what I do?

Redundant

I got made redundant today, and it's not that shocking really. I was going to hand in my resignation, I even had a signed copy on the desk of the M.D. but before he could read it we had the meeting. This caused a David Copperfield style moment when he opened it and I'd already left, but then it was ripped up because I get more money if I'm made redundant.

So it's over, it was good for a while but we've been drifting apart for some time. It's a shame that when relationships break up you don't get a break up package.

I've got a meeting arranged with a friend on Wednesday for cocktails to talk about work. so I've been a jobless bum for about an hour and already I've got other stuff lined up.

Saying that, it's very tempting to jet off to Thailand for a while, isn't that what you are supposed to do at times like this?

Modern Curses

I was thinking about cursing yesterday as I walked to the shops. Occasionally I'm filled with a burning desire to bake, it consumes me with a power I really can't understand and I know that trying to fight it just results in a restless night in bed dreaming of cake cases and spatulas like someone trying to go cold turkey from crack remade for Ready, Steady, Cook.

Cursing has got rather dated these days, nobody gives out a good curse anymore. I mean, when was the last time you cursed someone? And somthing modern 'I curse you to always have poor signal when you have an important call coming in' or perhaps 'I curse you to be hounded by spam' or even worse 'I curse you to always cook with margarine'

Thinking about it, it's probably a good think people don't curse these days. I mean life with only margarine? Would that be life at all?

Cleaning day

Sunday is always cleaning day for me, even more so when you are supposed to be writing. It'was one of the magical side effects of doing something tricky that you clean the entire house, organise your socks and write all those emails you've been putting off for a million years.

I've just blitzed the kitchen and I think I may go and sort out my cravat collection, again.

In other news, someone once game to this blog with the search 'How do I wear Houndstooth' I would suggest co-ordinating it with simple items (red works well), and stay away from any other patterns. Also never have more than one item of Houndstooth on, it's an accent, not a uniform.

I've also been moaping around the flat, and as much as it pains me to admit it pining after someone. It seems morally wrong to miss someone you haven't even kissed yet.

Right I've got to get back to work, or at least writing someone's name all over over my pencil case with hearts next to it.

What would P.G. Wodehouse do?

Well he would work jolly hard, that's what. I woke up at 6am, an ungodly hour at the best of times and started writing. In my head was the theme from Murder She Wrote as I set about my laptop like a man possessed.

This went jolly well until about 9 when I went for breakfast, brought some food and fell into a deep, rich sleep for the rest of the morning.

Total extra hours gained - 0.

So a mixed success really, I'll have another go at it tomorrow.

The blue cow flies swiftly tonight

I've started working on the book at work, I used to just tap away at it in my free time but now I've started working on it on the sly just like a spy. As I'm writing stuff anyway it's quite easy to just switch documents. It didn't take that long to get hold of the other things I need to do it, like the tune from Mission Impossible to listen to while I worked.

I would feel guilty about this but then I put in loads of extra hours and this way I'm like a spy, working undercover. I wonder if this is how most spies start out? At a desk, just not feeling the love.

I should probably get myself a codename and work out some places to drop important documents.

Hunted (again)

There is definitely something in the air today, I just got this email from yet another girl.

Hey you, just back from lunch with clients (feeling a bit tipsy actually!).

Do you feel like a trip to Milk & Honey?

Hunted

Here is a message I just got sent from another girl, but 20 seconds ago, I've changed my name to protect my identity.

So Mr Louche, are you out to play tonight? I've turned into such a larry lightweight. Two glasses of vino at lunch and I'm very nearly away with the fairies...

I'm in season

Like a proud stag prancing on a hilltop, possibly in front of the rising sun I am in season. While the Peruvian lovely is somewhere over the Atlantic other women are circling, they are after me.

Last night I got a text from a girl I met at a party (The Bridge Jones-a-like) saying how she had a double bed available should I wish to come around. I also got an email from another girl asking me if I'd like to go over for supper and that if I wanted I could 'do anything to her' I don't think she was suggesting a new haircut and possibly a better use of warm colours in her wardrobe.

It's really rather unexpected.

International relations

Last night my Scottish chum met the Peruvian lady in
a pub in Camden. They got on awfully well and together we did our bit
to keep the drinks industry vibrant.

It was a good night, but I think I'm going to pay for it today. Why is it that a few more pints of a strange fruit beer seems like such a brilliant idea at 11pm? How can
my judgement be that bad after a few drinks?

The Peruvian and I almost kissed last night, but I said I wanted to wait till I was sober, so I would be more aware of what was going on.

She seemed to like this, it's a damn shame she is going on holiday tomorrow. What on earth am I going to do while she is away?

Maybe I'll learn Spanish.

Ladies of Peru

I've met a girl, a special girl. We went for an afternoon coffee in Hampstead, she is tall and dark and exotically beautiful in that classically South American way.

We talked about silly things while the spring sun streamed in through the windows and then went for a gentle walk into town stopping in bars on the way, it was a lovely day. We ended up in a Cuban bar in Camden, drinking mojitos and having a conversation increasingly dusted with unsaid flirty implications. Just how I like it.

When it was time to go our seperate ways, she invited me to join her and her friends later that evening for cocktails in Soho. I dashed home and changed into some clothes more suitable for evening wear, pausing only to phone Henry as moral support and rushed out again.

We arrived before the girls and amused ourselves with the usual trick of drinking things we really shouldn't, enjoying the atmosphere and Henry started talking to some girls from Latvia.

Then my Peruvian girl appeared. She had changes out of a subtle yet sexy jeans and top combation (Of course well chosen for a first date) into a dress that was shockingly slinky and tight in places that a good (extremely lapsed) Christian chap that shouldn't think about too much. We had more cocktails together and there was talk of going dancing but I was fading rapidly due to having been up so late the night before. At around 2am I could take no more and made my excuses and left.

I said goodbye to the Peruvian, saying I was sorry to not see her dance (I was) and then inviting her too meet me for a lazy lunch on Sunday, she agreed and I positively skipped home.

On Sunday I woke up feeling refreshed but slightly nervy over if she was actually going to appear for our drunken meeting. It had been arranged in a bit of a boozy state so who knew if she even recalled it. Anyway, after a brief wait at the meeting point (My phone is still on the blink so it's very hard to co-ordinate meeting people) she appeared. We went to a great little cafe and had Israli food while reading the papers (Her the FT, me the style pages), it was a lovely second date a very different pace but better for it.

We shared an extremely lazy lunch we went to go and see a film together and then, rather sadly went home. I had to prepare the flat for the visiting Scottish chum (who is here drinking mulled wine right now) and do dull Sunday things, far less fun than hanging around with Peruvian beauties but sadly essential.

We are definitely going to meet up again, and I spent a good portion of this afternoon reading up on Peru just in case knowing the gross domestic product or rate of inflation comes up in conversation. I'd hate to be caught out.

Socks

On Friday I had to go to Phill's funeral, it was as good as a funeral can be. The service was very moving with people being really heartfelt about who he was and who he could have been. It always seems like such a shame when someone who had so much ahead of them passes away.

After the service was over we went back to Hannah's house (Where I first met Phill) and had a wake. It was a proper wake starting with polite conversation about what a lovely service it was and ending up in rawkus stories and messing about with pianos. It was good, as good as this sort of thing can be.

Everyone was very impressed by my new funeral socks with skulls on, I'd like to think Phill would have liked them too.

At the party I met a girl who was entertaining, she was a real-life Bridget Jones. She had the same job, looked the same, talked the same acted the same, everything. Strangely she got a bit offended when someone suggested she was Bridget Jones but I can't think why. I've got her number, and we might meet again but after the events off this weekend that seems a bit less likely.

Man of the month

I've decided to start doing a man of the month, some chap who deserves a bit of recognition for doing something brilliant.

This month's man is Shackleton, he was an explorer, spiffing chap and sported a fine centre parting (one of the more tricky partings). He managed all of this even when he didn't have the greatest start in life, just imagine for a moment what it would be like if you were in his position and had been named Ernest. *shudder*

I could say more about him but that would require actual research so I'll just link to wikipedia and you can read about him - Ernest Shackleton

Speaking of wiki, we had someone submit some work to us that was crap, and so clearly stolen from wiki that it still had links in it, so many that it was screwing up the software when the sub-editor had to re-write it. Honestly 'journalists' can be so naughty sometimes, I bet Shakleton wouldn't put up with that sort of rot.