Naughty girls

Today I got a phone call. It was from an 'unknown number' which normally I don't answer out of principle but well, it's a Tuesday and nothing else exciting was happening.

It was a very old girlfriend, she was an adult actress but now she has moved into P.R. she knows I wasn't terribly chuffed with her for quite some time - she stood me up which has never happened to me before. Anyway she is going to buy me lunch tomorrow which I think is a suitable way of showing remorse.

I even invited her to do the do on Thursday (as well as a selection of ex-girlfriends and chums) which should be, entertaining. By entertaining I mean everyone there will either get on terribly well or there will be actual fighting.

I can't wait.

You've gotta pick a pocket or two......

I am poor. While I normally go on about poor week what this usually means is I can't book any holidays or buy anything electronic. Poor Week has taken on an entirely new meaning now. I am ruined, destitute, gone.

What makes it more annoying is that the route of this was generosity. I went to a co-workers joint birthday party not because I liked him much but because if I hadn't gone he wouldn't have had a single friend there. After a while I brought a round of drinks, as one is expected to do. This round cost four times what I thought it would and it has completely thrown out my budgeting for the month. Before I went to this party I was actually doing rather well and I would have had money to spare. I might have wondered up to Bond Street and finally picked up that smoking hat I have been thinking about, or maybe some new gloves for spring.

This has resulted in me being poor, I have eaten all the pasta and I have half a cup full of rice left and that is about it. I wasn't even this poor in my student days. What is the world coming to?

I have the flu at the moment so really I should be eating chocolate biscuits while lounging on the sofa not making dough so I have some bread (I have run out of flour now), it's just wrong.

People always go on about how you shouldn't knock things until you have tried them. Well I have tried being poor and it is shit.

Lots of girls, some trousers and a bit with fish.

Well I am newly single, I broke up with B as I wasn't enjoying it and well I thought that sort of thing was supposed to be about fun.

I went drinking on Friday with a selection of vague chums. Vague as in I know some of them and the rest I only see through a haze of alcohol. We got very drunk on watermelon martinis and I discovered that White Russians go very well with popcorn. I left after a bit because I was suitably ruined and while the girl who kept rubbing my leg was very pleasant I didn't really feel like doing anything rude with anyone, this is an unusual thing for me.

In the chip-shop on the way home another lady said I had a nice coat and invited me to a house party. I didn't go but it was nice to be asked. Plus I had just got chips so I wanted to spend some quality time with them.

On Saturday I visited rellies to 'talk' as per instructions, they have a lovely house - It made me want to get on the property ladder. I ate smoked fish and cheese and then walked home thinking about things to do with parents. I don't mind having 'talks' as long as I get smoked fish.

In the evening I met up with a work person because they were having birthday drinks in a bar near my flat. This 'popping out for a pint' turned into an epic drinking session where I spent far, far too much money. I have gone from surprisingly wealthy for this time in the month to almost becoming a street walker in the space of one night.

Another girl wanted me to go home with her (A flatmate of the work-person's girlfriend) but I turned her down for the same reasons as before, and a someone (I still don't know who) pinched my bum in the club. What is the world coming to? I'd like to think that the girl who pinched my bum was one of the leggy brunettes striding around but it was probably the sweaty bald chap stood behind me.

Sunday involved a morning ride to Hyde park I did some more exploring and saw the Albert Memorial which is very impressive. I really like Hyde Park but all the most exciting parts are not for cycles so you have to break the rules to get to them. Good job I'm a rebel eh?

Dune, Risotto and Hyde Park.

This weekend has been surprisingly eventful. On Friday I went out with my assistant boozing with her friends (some of whom I know) went first went to a delightful little pub in Knightsbridge and ordered rather a lot of thrillingly inexpensive but rather good wine and proceed to drink it with a passion. Or at least I did while most of the other people there had a sickeningly grown-up attitude to binge drinking. S was there with a her new chap who was rather dull this time, as I wasn't a threat anymore (they are properly going out) he didn't make the effort as much to be a friend. The girls however were on form and I laughed far more than a grown-up really should.

We talked about various silly things - the most inappropriate thing to wear to a party, different styles of drinking and having auditions for interesting looking people to join our party.

After being there for the majority of the evening we stumbled up to the bar above Harvey Nicks, I can't remember a lot of what happened in this bar, I can briefly recall eating some fruit and that is about it. For some reason I invited one of B's friends back to my house to watch Dune and we stopped on the King's Road for risotto ingredients before stumbling back to my flat to drink more wine and see David Lynch's finest hour.

I think B's friend wanted to do rude things to me but as I have a girlfriend nothing actually happened so I made her sleep in the spare room and that is about that. It must have been quite confusing for her, I know that generally when you go back to someone's house on a flimsy pre-text it usually means you want to do naughty stuff on them but it is good to have it not happen on occasion, it keeps woman-kind on her toes.

On Saturday I felt like death warmed up, twice with a side order of extra pain. As a way of getting over the suffering I decided to go for a bike-ride around Hyde Park. This worked very well, and although that actual journey to the park wasn't as restful as one would hope. Once I actually got there and I put on some relaxing Buddhist chants on my Ipod I felt rather good.

I even got to see a lady dog catcher try and entice a stray, it was interesting to see her at work squatted down on the floor with one hand held out offering a tasty snack and the other slowly inching forward a comedy style lasso thing to ensnare the dog.

This stray dog was clearly wise to the game though, it spent a lot of time shouting at her in between eating snacks before happily trotting off to find something else to do. I admired it's independence and secretly wanted to befriend it now that it had proved itself to be not fooled easly. I think I would get it a cravat to wear around it's neck (although thinking about it a hanky would be more suitable as it was clearly a street dog) and it would help me solve mysteries. We could have been in a Disney film.

After that I cycled home and felt all virtuous while napping in front of the telly, I'm going to go on more bike-rides I think.

In the evening I went to K's house to watch French films and eat cheese. She and her pal were drinking wine but I still hadn't entirely recovered from Friday night so I stuck to the fruit juice. It was all quite jolly but K was clearly on a mission to seduce me again and after her friend left (and thus left us alone) I had to make my excuses and order a cab.

It's not often that a chap gets to turn down doing the sex on two different girls in one weekend, I think being on the edge of madness must be like a potent animal musk. I am going to have to start wearing artfully crumpled shirts and more velvet to accentuate this look.

Top three compliments a chap can give a lady that I heard about this weekend
1)You have a French bottom
2)You are an exquisite sausage
3)I'd do you even if I was gay.

Rage, Lingerie and Threes.

I have been rather angry of late, I know this is a side effect of the whole situation with my father and although my rage makes me strong like a well groomed hulk it does have some bad side effects. The main being that my rage transfers like a vicious cold on to other people who I shouldn't be angry at. I nearly beat my computer to death with a hammer when it was being naughty and I have actually considered breaking up with B over completely stupid things just because I have this vast untapped well of anger.

Identifying the problem is the first step to the solution to that so I have developed a few ways of avoiding any issues arising from the problem. To stop myself breaking up with B over something stupid I have taken to buying her lingerie, I hate having presents around for girls I spit up with so I refuse to break up with her until she has the latest gift. This is like a prime directive or something, and as since on average the packages take 3-5 days to arrive I can cover a month with a fairly small outlay on frilly things which are rather nice to have around the house anyway. See Monogamy through lingerie, it is the future.

I have taken to compiling incidental lists of top three things, I like the way they have an almost haiku like simplicity.

Top three hairy side kicks
1)Chewbacca
2)Ludo
3)Nick Frost

Weekends

I had a quiet one, Saturday was spent in a very messy room playing war-themed computer games in my pants. Then I went (a bit reluctantly I might add) to a house party with B, It was a party hosted by one of her friends and was populated by a mixture of smug couples, a couple of lone stag males and a token visiting American or two. They talked about couply things for a while so I hid in the kitchen with B and drank booze. Then the hostess instigated the box game which was hilarious and that was a masterful centrepiece to the whole event.

B has an American friend over so we both talked about being at parties where you don't know anyone while drinking lots of vodka and ginger. I had Guinness and wine and I can confirm that they should not be mixed, EVER. B kept trying to have relationship chats with me at in-opportune moments (half way through the box game) which was a bit off as I was trying to get drunk.

I think we are both a bit confused about the situation, being both established singletons in a relationship is a bit weird. And both of us have recently had people coming out of the closet about hidden passions for us in the last few days (it must be something to do with spring) which doesn't help.

On Sunday I left B and her American pal so they could go and explore Camden and made my way home via Tottenham Court road so I could pick up some computer bits that I needed. When did finally get home the computer bits were being VERY naughty and refused to work, I realised I needed some more parts to help them work which wasn't going to happen at 6pm on a Sunday. Argh.

Why do I buy these components when they fill with such rage?

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.