Le Blog

I’m going to try and write this as a concise blog however am concerned I have so many different topics to talk about it may be a bit piecey- apologies in advance homies.  

First of all I promised my amazingly handsome, immaculately dressed friend Oliver a blog all about him. I am finding this commitment very hard to fill at present as I haven’t been graced with his presence for so long. I will however dedicate a full paragraph to him, by saying this: he is probably the best mannered, most appropriately dressed handsome, gayest straight person I know. I think of him often and smile at the same time, or snort. Every time a song comes up I have heard him sing it puts me in that happy place. I am very lucky to have found such awesome friends / London family here and I’m very grateful to have such attractive ones in my life also.  

Next I’d like to dedicate some blog time to go emphasising why I’m still single. I caught up with an old friend last week; It didn’t end so well. I would go as far as saying he is probably shitty at me, and I am probably shittier at him. I half feel bad, but I am a stubborn human plus undoubtedly not in the wrong, and so hesitant to call or text as just before I left home I got given 2 books from my endearing/patronising friend Kate (who may I add, I miss enormously) one titled: He’s just not that in to you and the other The complete book of rules. Mostly I ignore the content. Which is probably why I end up with so many twits? I’m sure in my defence (and his), he isn’t a twit, I just suspect he is stubborn, as am I... but I am right you see. Anyway the next day I needed cheering up so met my oldest dearest friend Miss Sarah in Marylebone and we got amongst mardi gras. Although there were many hot lady boys, and I was a little fragile, now isn’t the time for me to turn sides, plus, if I’m with a lady boy, am I still straight? See it confuses me, so yeah, men only still even though they are all dicks. Except for on the way to Bok bar, it was as though nature intervened and I met my future husband... who I actually thought was dressed up as a train driver for Mardi Gras, but he was really just a hotel porter with a cute hat. After exchanging many flirty glances and brief conversation which made me all blushy and gross, I told Sarah to go and give him my number. However unbeknown to me until 2 hours later when he texted, she gave my number to the wrong guy!!! Instead I received a text from Ed, a caramel coloured smoker who I hope to never hear from again, once I blocked him on my phone, the creep whatsapped me – way to my heart dude!!

The working week is getting much easier the more settled in to work I become. I actually really love it now. My client, (who I hope never reads this) has eyes like a swimming pool. Sometimes he talks to me and I picture him in a cape saving the world. I’m sure he is Clark Kent, except with ocean blue eyes. If he had a cult, I would probably follow him that’s how good they are. And I was never an eye person- until I lived with the wife (who I miss more than potato tots and Zooper Doopers put together). Unlike me, Laura had two criteria- blue eyes and a job. It just so happened that I generally only date dudes with blue eyes, that she would notice way before I would! She would love him, so in meetings my train of thought is something like ‘blue eyes, superman, Laura’ in that order. Not entirely the worst result, as long as I don’t daydream out loud and call him Clark.

Anyway I need to bring up Friday as it was the fullest, strangest, all emotive day so far. First of all it was the hottest day of the year, 27 degrees!! But human hot hell not only was I for once grateful to be on the air conditioned district line, I discovered in my lunch break that not only does London not have tots, they don’t have Zooper Doopers either! What kind of third world country do I live in?? Most people spend their day whinging about the heat... I (once I had got the upset’dness about the absence of Zooper Doopers in my life out of my system and compensated with the largest gelati of my life/ lunch) was thriving. That was until after post work drinks, two train lines were cancelled (mine surprisingly was not one of those and I only had to wait another 5er), why? because there is a human stuck under the train at Aldgate East and another at Liverpool street, not only was I almost emotionally sad. I then had to put my ear plugs in because it was repeated every 20 seconds for the next 10 minutes of my journey home. You see, they do this so it makes people realise its the Underground's fault that the train is cancelled. I really just felt bad for the poor family who have lost their loved one cos they had a really shit Friday and deep seeded mental issue. My life= isn’t that bad, whenever in doubt refer dot point above. Then as I was walking home from West Brom, I realised a man was following me. What do I do? …..Take refuge in the pub, the Rylston. What does he do? Follows me in… proceeds to pretend like he isn’t following me while I’m talking to the bar staff about it, and then he walks out, then I (Sherlock Holmes) followed a couple of hundred meters behind him and he went in the complete other direction. Freak really was following me= yay to pub refuge centres. Thankfully my day was buoyed by the successful test ride of the Italian. I am still trying to decide whether to call him Coppi, The Pirate, Nibali or Balotelli; I suspect the latter, although not in the same sport dynasty, sounds best, plus he is such a boss- anyone that wants some good reading should do some research on Balotelli- weird unit, but in a captivating way. 

So the weekend shenanigans were ridiculous, they were so good they were on another level of good. I must say, I’m yet to have that moment of despair since finding a home to live in (and a job which I’m starting to get better at). I have so many good friends here now and when I finally pick up the Italian that will top it off. I just wish my wife was here. I miss just having her around, saving me from rain and eating my leftovers, but every time I see a glorious dog, like the beautiful Italian Greyhound I met today, I realise she is kind of haunting me alive so that makes me happy. Back to the weekend… I woke up at a ridic hour to catch a bus with Jo (the 2^nd skinniest human I know and about 10 of her mates) to the Henley Regatta.. So glad I went. What a cracking day. Bianca would’ve loved it, hot college boys, rowing boats… come to think of it Ian Thorpe probably would’ve too. Surprisingly we went straight to the bar, and left the bar at 4pm to catch the train back to London to meet Tosh the fattest headed man alive, his hot gf Bianca (who we’ll pronounce the woggy way sister Bianca doesn’t like to distinguish the two- so Byunka.), the second skinniest human alive Jo, the skinniest human alive Train, and the other wheel ‘love a pun’ Nev who loves a pun. What a crew. Thankfully the regatta drunkidness carried on throughout the train ride and the boys had come from Lords where Brett Lee had smashed Warneys hand – hadn’t he Train..you should tell us the story again!! That night I met up with my old Lagos flame, Harry. Who is the opposite to my criteria- blonde, not taller than me (but not shorter) and he is covered in tattoos, but he is a bit like another friend I have Mick Boyland who just makes me laugh all the time (when I;m not telling him off); and laughing is good for you. Was so good to see him and thankfully he also doubles as a bar tender which coincidently is the reason Bianca and I met him in the first place. Harry is famous in York. Hell he was famous in Lagos, known worldwide for the Dirty Harry cocktail, which is just delicious, as was the 5 other cocktails I tried and 8 or so other shots we consumed. Both of us, not knowing when to stop!! The best part was watching him ride home and almost running people over in the process or crash in to a shop front. The hangover resulting the next morning was not so great. The security guard when I was checking out suggested I put my sunglasses on to cover my red eyes. The morning was exciting, trying to teach myself how to walk again and using Nev as a lean to whilst waiting for Le Tour. I spent the break before the riders passed talking to Rolf Harris’ around me and teaching my friends some Welsch and a little bit of French I’ve picked up in my travels. Some handy phrases like ‘attache moi’. We set up on a bend which was perfect viewing, and got to see all the riders in about 30 seconds. We then did our own Le Tour, taking family photos along the way. Thankfully we all had wide lens cameras to compensate for Tosh’s head. Which actually is starting to look proportionate with the more weight he is carrying? Quote of the weekend was definitely Mr Elder’s- at the conclusion of the tennis “did you hear that? When Rod Laver won wimbledon he got a £15 voucher and a milkshake.” Me: “Tosh, he said HANDSHAKE!” It was wonderful not winning best quote for once, though I also felt like I’d underachieved at the same time.

The train home was much quieter. Train was getting pretty friendly with his SriLankan neighbour and I made Jo cry through laughter, but can’t remember the joke to tell it back, or I would tell you. Great crew. Great life. 5 spuds Margaret.