In which twitter saves the day

Last night was not what I expected, which actually turned out to be rather fun. I got down to London early, positively buzzing with excitement. After a short bit of pacing about and waiting the Actress arrived and we ambled into the members club.

The moment I saw the alleyway to the club I had sudden flashbacks to if not the second then probably the third date with The Peruvian. She was a member of the same club. This made the next few moments rather exciting as any time a girl with long hair was spotted I flinched and hid behind the Actress.

The actress was on glowing form, I'd not seen her in months but she was everything I remembered and more, absolutely fabulous. We grabbed some drinks and I introduced her to the art dealer. She bonded instantly over wearing beautiful shoes that destroy feet. The Art Dealer took a real shine to the Actress, and so the evening progressed. The Lycra lady was there too. Looking resplendent. We made a bit of polite conversation about the planned adventure and then I went to get some more drinks.

It was all a bit of a whirl, and then Lycra ran off into the night with a client and I was left with the Actress having far, far too much fun. We played billiards and gambled with promises. I left the table with an offer of supper and a 'rescue should I need it' and so we drank some more and laughed. There was a book of 'erotic origami' which we tried some admittedly rather tame designs from and cackled at the results. I doubt the financial pages have ever been turned into 'those' before.

Eventually the Actress had to scamper off into the night, I was terribly sad to see her go, she had been even more fun than I'd remembered and yet again we had engaged in a surprisingly deep conversation about relationships and stuff. We will definitely go drinking again.

At this point I rejoined the Art dealer and we drank pink champagne and talked to some porn producers. I knew some of them from my old job and so we caught up on the gossip and they shocked the bankers left in the club with their stories from the set.

Far, far later we had to leave the club and stumbled home via a take-away to by something awful to eat. When we were back in the flat we drank rum and then went to bed. I was staying in the Art Dealer's spare flat - honestly, who has a spare flat?

Before I went to bed I tweeted about my might and thought no more of it. The next morning I work up, pulled my things together and jumped on a train. Work knew I was going to be a bit late but they didn't know how late exactly, neither did I. I arrived 'Up North' in good time but then had to spend almost two hours at the bus station waiting for a pesky bus. I arrived rather late thinking I was going to get a bit of a telling off but instead was greeted triumphantly - my tweet had impressed them so much they didn't mind that I was rather delayed.

There is a lesson in that somewhere, but I'm not sure exactly what it is. I also have no idea if Lycra was stirred into jealousy by the Actress, she (the Actress) was on form but who knows how the female mind works, not me. Either way the Actress was a delight and we are going to go out again because she is far too entertaining to take out rarely.

What a spiffing night out.

The art of dating

I'm going to a bash in London tomorrow. The art dealing chum is hosting another private view and so I'm going to amble down to join in the fun.

I'm taking along an actress I met at a birthday party a few month ago. The one I send telegram style text messages too (how are you STOP fancy some gin on Saturday STOP etc) We are chums, so she is going to provide entertaining company and giggles while we admire art.

I could have invited a date to go along but that might have been a bit weird. There will be loads of people I know there so that would be a bit full on.

Also Lycra will be there, so I'm hoping that she is consumed with jealousy over seeing me with another woman. This sort of plan works in films so it's bound to work in real life.

I can see no flaws in this plan, apart from now that I think about it every time someone does it in a film it normally goes wrong. Oh dear.

Coffee with Chuck

I went for coffee with Chuck. It was her suggestion. It's the festive season and I was feeling pretty planted. By planted I mean that I have completely an utterly moved on and I couldn't give a damn what happens to her either way.

Given that I thought it was a pretty low risk activity. I was right and wrong.

The coffee ended up being a drink because it was late. It wasn't awkward, it was okay, or at least it started that way. We caught up in a slightly stilted way, polite as always. There was quite a lot of needless touching going on by her, far too much. Do you really need to sit on someones lap to show them a magazine?

Then she invited herself back for port and cheese. Again more touching, by her, not by me.

I'd picked up the hint that she had intentions on me, but I was having absolutely none of it. Eventually it was time for her to leave and she was slightly taken aback when she asked if I wanted her to stay. I said it was up to her, and that I would make up the spare bed. She was shocked.

She was amazed that I didn't want to sleep with her. This shock lasted a while, then after a short Alan Bennett style bit of dialogue she stormed off into the night. She was genuinely amazed that I didn't want to do anything naughty with her, or go out with her again. I suppose pretty girls don't get that very much.

Anyway, I think the whole Chuck affair is finally over. It had its moments but it's for the best.

Is it wrong to date a racist?

I went on a date, and the girl made some, well some troubling remarks. Not full on racism just a bit of mild racism. Perhaps they were just ill thought out. The rest of the date was a bit dull, no sparkle, no adventures but not horrible either.

So why would I see her again? You may ask. Well she is local so there wouldn't be a 200 mile round-trip to see her. Slightly more importantly I was set up by a chum at work and she has rather made it her mission to get us together.

Is it really so boring up here that I'd put up with dating racists because it would give me something to do?

The evolution of gym kit

I go to the gym a lot. There really is very little else to do up here. I've never really been a gym sort. The first time I went they had to show me what everything was because I had absolutely no idea. I'm not really a sporty person, or I suppose I wasn't a sporty person a few months ago. My life up here may be very quiet but it's allowed me to affect a transformation which has been reflected in my P.E. kit

Outfit 1 - my first gym kit

As you may notice the shoes are, well shoes. The shorts are 'I must have been drunk when I bought these' and the t-shirt, well actually the T-shirt is okay. Basically it says 'I'm new to the gym'.






Outfit 2 - Starting to get some of the right gear
After my first visit I realised I needed to get some at least mildly sensible trainers. I was still wearing shorts that were almost trousers (honestly what are they for apart from to give you a stupid tan). The trainers were far lighter than my normal shoes and marked the beginning of me starting to a bit mental on the cross trainer (Elliptical for the American readers). I would burn about 200 calories in 10 minutes on it.



Outfit 3 - It's all white
I switched a slightly lighter t-shirt and got some of those special trainer socks. I happened to be out doing some shopping at lunch time and thought I'd get some actual clothes for the gym rather than just going in some things I had lying around. At this point I managed to burn 300 calories in 10 minutes on the cross trainer. My trousers started to get loose and my shirts fitted differently.





Outfit 4 - At last sensible shorts
The gym lady said that 300 calories was extremely good going for ten minutes (she couldn't do it). I was really starting to enjoy the gym experience I wanted to beat that. After really pushing myself I burned 340 calories in ten minutes on the cross trainer and decided that I'd aim for 700 in 20 minutes. I also started a new program of weights lifting twice what I did before. I sleep better and feel amazing after going to the gym. no-one ever told me that after going to the gym you would be off your face on endorphins.

Outfit 5 - My first vest
At this point I'm going to the gym every day, without fail. Even when I'm hungover. My first 20 minute run on the cross trainer lets me hit 600 calories, a few days later I push myself as hard as I can and I hit 678 and feel sick. I go and buy a vest, the first one I've ever owned that's not part of a fancy dress costume. I look very different and I've lost about 10 kilograms and put on muscle everywhere. The next day I hit 703. I've done it. The gym staff are amazed and my take my picture to put on the wall.

The next target is 1000 calories in 30 minutes. I'm not sure if I can do it, but I'm going to try. My knee is fine now, occasionally it still feels a bit weird but I'm stronger than I've ever been.

I don't know who I'm doing this for, I suppose myself, it really helps me relax but I'm rather looking forward to the next time I take my shirt off and a girl is around. she will get a pleasant surprise. I may still be a fop but I'm not built like one anymore.

Time to do stupid things

I haven't worked out when my blogging time is, which is why I've been a bit rubbish at updating. It's not a great excuse but it's a true one.

I've spoken to the Albert bridge girl a few times since the lunch. She laughed a lot on the phone, when I wasn't even being that funny. I'm taking this as a good sign, but I'm not getting too hopeful. I have however been managing to play it cool, which is rare for me. I don't do cool terribly well.

I think the problem is that playing it cool, is very much like not being interested and that just seems wrong. This is a source of comedy for me at least - I'm writing again - even thinking about doing a show. My job just doesn't stimulate me as much as it used to, and there just has to be more to life than well, a cottage.

That isn't to say I don't like the cottage, but I just don't think I should be here yet. I should be in London, or something. And not just because there are girls there who I like stomping across bridges with, but because there is life there. Proper life, the life you can't predict and that constantly surprises you. I need change, radical changes which means I'm going to have to do some radical stuff.

Yes, I'm fixing to do something stupid.

Something stupid on Albert Bridge

I think I'm dancing toward something stupid. The weekend was one of highs and lows but for me the pin-sharp moment was on Saturday at about 5pm.

I was walking across Albert Bridge in the rain, sheltering under an umbrella with a woman. She asked why I was walking so slowly and I said I was just enjoying the moment. It was cold, I was late for something else and I'm not even sure that she likes me in that way, but for the length of a bridge I was terribly happy.

Choose your own adventure Louche.

I have a few options this weekend. It's like a choose your own adventure book.

1) Stay in house whole weekend writing stuff I should have finished years ago. Clean cottage, do washing. Wake up on Monday with everything ready for the week ahead but with a vague feeling of 'is this really what I spent all week looking forward too?'. This is how I spend a lot of weekends

2) Date on Friday in the tiny town set up by a chum at work. On Saturday go clubbing with people from work (all girls) and see what the charms of the local town are on a normal weekend. On Sunday go for long hike with chum from work (male).

3) Go down to London for long weekend. Catch up with lovely London chums, then have lunch with girl who is so pretty I can't really talk to her (she has asked me). Possibly have first date with someone else work people are trying to set me up with. Toy with the idea of Christmas shopping but decide to do it online instead. Come home tired but at least feeling I did something with my time off.

4) None of the above.

The dangers of pork

I've been neglecting this blog of late, so much so that I fear social services may take it away at any moment and rehouse it with some foster posters.

At the weekend I went to London for a bash. It was marvellous. The tube was broken so I had to walk through London in the rain to get to the party. I didn't mind though, because it was a lovely stroll. Almost every street I walked down had a memory tied to it. First dates, last dates, chance encounters, drinking adventures and even quiet moments.

The party was good too, a load of old friends that I've sadly rather fallen out of touch with, well apart from email exchanges. It was by anyone's standards a lovely reunion. I ended up crashing at chums place and then meeting another chum for breakfast and then ambling off for a first date. The date wasn't a huge success, but it rounded off a pretty good weekend.

I miss London, and I'm resolved to return, which is I said to my boss that I wanted to see about a transfer to the London office. I do enjoy the people I work with but I just don't know anyone outside of work up here and so it's a but dull in the evenings to say the least.

I think, if I was settled down, cottage life would be fine but since I'm not it's not quite right. Instead I'm stuck eating vast amounts of pork as a source of entertainment. I ate so much tonight that I had to wobble down to the wine shop to get some port otherwise I would be dead, FACT*

I need a new hobby.

*Not actual fact

The worst line ever

There is a line us chaps fear more than any else. It over-shadows 'I'm pregnant', eclipses 'I want to talk about where this is going' and makes 'we need to have a talk' seem like something from a greeting card.

This line, feared by men the world over is.

'Let's just be friends'

I got hit with it last night, from Ms Pencil Skirt. She'd still like me to take her out to the Wolesley, but just as friends. Oh really.

This was after yet another day at work where I performed miracles and then got abuse. I think we can mark yesterday as one of the worst Tuesdays I've had in a long time.

On the plus side, I think I've just found a load more stand-up material.

Let's hear it for feminists dressing like ladies

I had a date on Sunday. It was lovely, and definitely worth the 200 mile round trip (I really do live in the wrong place). It was great because we went somewhere (Tate) and did something (Look at art) and I had so much fun that I can't really remember much about the show.

The girl is a feminist, which is essential for me, I can't abide simpering submissive types. Once you've had fem, you won't date men? No that doesn't quite work. Anyway, proper feminist but not in a hair shirt sort of way, she was tottering about in a pencil skirt with excellent lippy. She was dressed like this because she likes it.

I have to say, that speaking as a straight chap the rise of the whole 1940s burlesque trend has been very appealing. Especially when adopted by slightly fiery types with strong views on gender equality. Ding Dong

Adventures with trains

I'm off an adventure today. It's just too boring up here so I'm going down to London to absorb some culture with a girl.

The date yesterday was okay, I mean pleasant enough but there wasn't really any sparkle. I suppose my mind was somewhere else, and that somewhere being plotting being in London today.

I've got out a spiffy suit, and even more spiffy shirt and possibly the world's greatest hanky. Oh yes, I'm going to be massively overdressed for going down to London but then that's half the fun.

London

I went down to London for a party with some old work chums. It was supposed to be a party open to loads of people but in the end only about a dozen turned up. It was ace though. It's been almost years since I last got drunk with that crowd in a bar. I miss them.

I miss London too. Even though the cottage is very lovely at the moment. I just feel like I'm coasting, which probably isn't a totally bad thing - I've got a job. So it's a good sort of coast.

I've not been proper drinking for a while, and so the next day I was pretty broken. Even a shower at work didn't help that much - and my new show gel smells like Jolly Rancher.

I was in the gym pre-shower on the cross trainer. I wasn't going to go mad or anything I just thought I should go as part of the program to try and make my knee less wonky. The gym lady ask how I was and so I said hungover before carrying on with working out.

After I finished my work out I got given a pamphlet about alcohol abuse and a table to fill in recording how much I've been drinking. It was a bit much, but the gym lady is harmless and terribly earnest. I'm not going to fill in, that's cos I'm a rebel yeah?

Not much else to report really. I've got a load of new stand-up material which I'm slowly turning into a routine and today I've got a date, although I'm not sure I want to go now. I've met someone in London. We've got a date arranged and everything.

I think I need to go to London more often, it's just a shame that the train costs more than a flight to Europe. I hate public transport.

Jack the ripper on twitter

Through a hole in the space time continuum I saw some famous tweets of yore. Before the whole closed I managed to cut and paste a few of them.

Jack_the_ripper

is feeling spring heeled. Might go out again tonight. I can't stop LOL!!!11!!!

@Police you can't catch me. Hehehehehe

Went out anyway, did something naughty, again, hope no-one notices.

Want to go out tonight, but can't.

What a night LOL!11!1!!1!1!

Going to #Whitehall tonight can't find black bag or knives.

Feeling a bit stabby

Everything is great in America

Until I agreed to cycle to Spain I was, and well I still am thinking about trying to get a job in the States. I'm not sure if it's even possible but where I am now seems like a bit of a small pond, if that makes sense.

America has always been a land of wonder and opportunity every time I've gone there I've not wanted to come back. So perhaps I should make the next logical step? I'm sure every chap has dreamed of getting a steamer to the states and landing with only a few suits rolled up in a carpet to his name.

So I'm writing up my C.V. as I need to at least see what is out there, and yes before you ask, there might be a girl in America who I've been chatting with, but as I've said before anytime I've done outlandish things to impress a girl it's worked out. Not often with the girl, or actually rarely with the girl but the end it's improved my life.

I rather like the fact I've got two different plans now, both involve girls and both are mutually exclusive. Also neither girl knows I have plans.

2010 Should be exciting.

The next stupid plan - Spain.

I have just agreed to cycle to Spain. Yes a girl is involved. It's for charity (which is what normal people use as an excuse to do stupid things) but mostly I'm going because she is hot.

Actually she is a bit too hot. Last time I met her I couldn't really hold a conversation with her because I fancied her so much. Instead of saying witty things about topical events I sat quietly with my hands in my lap. In hindsight it was funny, but at the time it was painful.

So anyway, under the guise of perhaps being to talk to her again I've agreed to spend two weeks cycling to Spain at some point in July. Now I just need to get a bike, and well, the fittest I've been in my entire life.

All of this and she probably thinks I'm a bit simple. Oh well, it will probably be fun and even if it goes terribly wrong it will make a good stand-up routine.

Bringing Silly back

This post has got a bit serious of late, and so that's going to change. I'm going to start being silly again. Silly is good.

I'll just start brewing another coffee and then try and flex the nonsense muscles.

Patterns in life

I've noticed a few patterns in my life now. Things that repeat themselves so often that they are practically rules.

1) If I see an outlandish item of clothing I like, I should buy it. There will always been an occasion in the future when it is exactly the thing I need.

2) When making an important decision, it shouldn't be based on a careful weighing up of the facts. Just think which option will allow you to meet more lovely girls or meet a specific lovely girl again. This is the result that will make you the most happy in the long run even if the thing with that specific girl never happens.

3) I need to have more than two ideas for rules to make it a proper list.

Expected Week / Actual Week

Here is the week I expected to have
Monday - Second date with leggy Policewoman
The first date was fun and she had been texting me lots about what we were going to do.
Tuesday - Performance Review
I've been doing my job well, super well. I had a page full of things I've done that no-one else can. This should be two hours about how great I am. I have no life really apart from work so I've been giving it my all.
Saturday - Party with work people
Some of the sales girls asked me to a birthday party. Since I had a car now I thought I'd go along to say hello.

Here is the week I actually had
Monday - Stood up by Policewoman
Tuesday - Awful performance review where I was given the impression that I'm only just doing my job, all good stuff ignored.
Saturday - Car blew up on way to party, now broken and will cost more to fix than it is worth. I've had it less than a week.

The danger of ham

I'm trying to write something difficult, well to be exact I'm finally getting around to writing something I should have done ages ago but since I'm really supposed to be setting up my council tax payments I thought this might be a better thing to do.
I'm also cleaning the house. You can tell when I'm writing something hard because the house is spotless. Currently the house still has some spots but they are fast disappearing.

Now I'm writing this instead of writing the thing I should be writing, arrgh.
Anyway, I used to have a system for writing. I'd get up early, brew some mind bendlingly strong coffee and sip it while bashing away furiously. For really hard stuff I'd put some jazz on, nothing with words in it though, otherwise they would start appearing it what I was writing. Occasionally I'd take breaks to brew more coffee or make some poached eggs on toast. I managed to squeeze out a book doing that.

The thing is I don't really drink coffee anymore, I rather drank too much of the stuff and it was making me ill. Decaf is all well and good but it doesn't make your face tingle and mind move faster than you can type, so I'm trying to find other things to help me write. Other treat foods so I can train myself that 'this is writing time.'

Today I got a huge hunk of ham, as part of my experiment to find writing food. You know one of those cooked ones that looks like something Asterix would eat after duffing up some Romans. It was extremely nice, so nice I did a little dance while eating it, but it also made me sleepy, and thirsty and now I want to drink wine and have a nap.

I've got some other foods to try out, those funny little expensive chocolate puddings that lonely people eat instead of having sex and some very thin biscuits. Biscuits seem to get better the less of them there are.

I'm hoping that one of these will become my new culinary muse and I can finally do that work. It's definitely not ham, Ham is tasty and a good rewards after fighting legionnaires but it's not right for when you have to churn out 1500 words before you will allow yourself to go to the pub.

So kids, I suppose the lesson in all of this is don't ham and write.