It’s amazing how quickly things can change. The man from the previous post? The man who I thought was brilliant, but also busy so I was giving him his space? It’s only been 13 days since we met, and four days since I posted my last entry praising him. But last night his text I received, the first one since Thursday, was so obviously a booty call that I’ve now decided to cut him. Not literally.
Him: You out tonight? x
Me: I am, out in Essex with friends. What are you up to? x
No reply. Still, even today. If I was home with no plans, BAM, he would have tried.
One snippet of man business I didn’t include in my last post is the presence of my ex, the navy engineer. Yes, he’s living in NZ currently but he has plans to move north once he’s finished up with another qualification at the end of the year. I’m not pinning all my hopes and dreams on anything happening between us – but we’ve spoken about it and there’s definitely something there. He messages and calls me everyday, we talk about anything and everything. He’s got nothing to gain from it – so after this current man, it does make him seem more genuine.
I’ll see him when I go back for my sister’s wedding, so I think we’ll have to take it from there.
You know when you first start dating someone new and it’s all awkward and you don’t want to be too much of yourself in case you scare them? Yeah. That. Only I have been myself and it hasn’t spooked him. Maybe it’s because he’s a bit older? Maybe he’s just a real man that doesn’t spook easy? I have no idea. But even with my brashness and impatient ways he seems to have stuck around.
Sure there’s been moments, like over the weekend when I was travelling one way and him another and we barely spoke due to reception issues. But then back to London and all is well. His work has him on a busy schedule for the next two weeks, but he’s promised to take me on another date. And then this morning I received a lovely text saying he couldn’t wait to see me. Swoon. I do love the beginnings of a new romance. And by God it’s been awhile!!
It’s early, but I’m feeling positive.
The weather has been glorious here in London the past couple of days and I am beyond excited and happy for summer to finally be on the horizon. After a winter with way too much snow (I only wanted enough for one snowman, not six, in APRIL) and freezing temperatures I’d never experienced before I am now thrilled to know the heat is coming.
The girls in my office are clearly excited about this improvement in weather – one’s shown me her bright red bum from being on a sunbed for too long last night, and the other two have had short stints on the sunbeds and applied some fake tan for good measure. I’ve never felt so pale in my LIFE. While I know sunbedding and the like are bad for you, no one wants cancer, I can see why the British girls thrive on it. After seven months of cold and snow, having bronzed arms and legs really does make you feel alive and healthy. They LOOK healthy (except the red one). I’m all for faking it, but sometimes things can go wrong…
One of my flatmates pops by our local nail salon to get his tan topped up once a month. I’m thinking I will go with him next month, just for a quicky – don’t judge me. I’m a child of the southern hemisphere, we have barely any ozone layer (except that it’s repairing itself now), a quick six minutes will make me feel less ghostly. This near translucent shade I have right now is not me. Of course I will top it up with fake tan when required, I don’t wish to go sunbed crazy and turn into something beef jerky. Just enough for a natural glow.
I won’t turn into an orange, glowing beacon. Promise. But if I do start to resemble something similar, someone tell me. Please.
It’s been one of those long, drawn out weeks. The busiest and most exhausting part of my week has been work. Which means I totally have my work:play ratio out of whack.
The good news (for me, that is) is that it’s now technically Friday afternoon (I’m counting down the hours – three!), the sun is again shining down on London and bestie is on her way down to visit for the weekend. We have no major plans, but Mr & Mrs Q are popping over for afternoon tea tomorrow, and on Sunday we plan to cheer on the London marathon runners as they blaze past my house. And then probably follow it up with a drink at the pub and toasting to all those amazing runners and their achievements.
Some exercise will be thrown in for good measure, as I have a date next week (more on that later) and any bit of toning up I can squeeze in before then is a win in my opinion.
But right now all I’m really looking forward to is that first sip of Sauvignon Blanc, which is chilling in the fridge and calling my name as I type this…
P.s. the photo and caption above made me giggle so many times over the space of a couple of hours. It’s either brilliant, or I’m overtired. You pick.
This lovely long weekend I jetted off to Italy. More precisely; Milan, Lake Como and Venice. All three spots were beautiful, but the charm and culture of Venice was mesmerizing.
Unfortunately the weather didn’t show it’s sunny-side for majority of the weekend, but one day of sunshine and blue skies in Venice really did take the cake. I am definitely keen to head back to Lake Como in the warmer months, but it wasn’t cheap in spring, so I don’t even want to think of prices in summer.
As a foodie, I’m thrilled to say the food of Italy did not disappoint; amazing wine, pasta, pizza and antipasto. There was (thankfully just) one incident though, it involved a lasagne and a microwave. Yes, they microwaved one of our meals straight from it’s frozen packaging. IN A RESTAURANT. My friend and I were gobsmacked and with the lack of Italian language we had no idea how to rectify the situation. They didn’t even try to cover for the fact. They microwaved it right behind the bar and tipped it out, still in it’s frozen, square shape. No dressing it up with herbs or cheese. Just splat, on the plate. Admittedly it wasn’t awful, but it cost six EUROS!
I drank far more espressos than I can even think to count, and loved every one. Returning to London, to the god awful dirty puddle in a cup that they call coffee was tough but after a long weekend away, it is always nice to return home.
brioche and espresso
gelato at the basilica