Highly Strung

Me: Yeah so I have nicknames for a lot of my good friends; Carmienne, Martron, Martin From Spanish, Wee Peter, Crispie…

Him: So what do they call you?

Me: ermm….Kirses.

Him: *mocking laughter*

How productive have I been today:

Drawers x 2, check

Bathmat, check

Bathroom mirror, check

Chopping board, frying pan, teatowels, cleaning products, mugs; check check check

I even have fabric softener – something I have never bought before, how grown up am I?

I’m now ready for my first houseguest. I’ve invited Martin From Spanish over for dinner before we go to a party in Hackney. The only fly in the ointment is the fact that I bought mussels for dinner just before I had the idea to invite him over. Guess what the only thing he doesn’t eat is? Shoulda gone the salmon…

I had a great dream this morning, I dreamt that I moved a bit of furniture in my room and behind it was a big wardrobe with a big chest of drawers inside it…and then I woke up, still surrounded by various boxes and bags spilling crumpled clothes everywhere. Bugger.

Is this day ever going to end? Is it?

Can anyone tell me??

I’ve been properly literally left behind twice in my life, both times by those who are traditionally supposed to love me unconditionally – my parents.

The first time was when I was somewhere in the region of ten years old. It was during a road trip to god knows where and we were enjoying an unscheduled stop at a roadside fruit stall somewhere in Central Otago. We all got out of the car to stretch our legs while Mum went off to select some nectarines or some other type of fruity yuckness. When the time to came to marshal the troops, I was on it, I truly was, however just as I had my hand on the open car door, my Dad put his foot down and took off leaving me standing bewildered and a little humiliated next to the empty space the family car used to occupy.

Now once could be construed as bad luck, but twice – makes you wonder if they actually wanted a third child at all – perhaps we were all costing too much?

The second time I was about 12 and we were on a family outing to another family’s house with a multitude of other kiddies in tow. Come time to leave I was stupidly hanging out on my own at the top of their fort (dunno why they had a fort), my parents packed what they thought were all the kiddies into every conceivable corner of their enormous estate car and took off. I was lucky enough to raise my head above the parapet just in time to see the car disappearing down the long driveway…I later wandered off into a nearby forest and was subsequently raised by wolves, which obviously accounts for my habit of howling at the full moon once a month…

Fast forward to 21 years later and I am surrounded by those about to leave me behind. Not just in the realm of friends but also at work. The phrase ‘rats from a sinking ship’ springs to mind. It’s all most unsettling really. This week I shall be attending a leaving do on Wednesday night and another one on Saturday night…

And yes I shall be going on about this until they have all gone and then I’ll start bitching about my utter lack of social life and the fact that I never leave my flat…

On the occasion of cycling home from Fitzrovia this evening I managed to get only a little more than a mile lost. When faced with the A12 I knew I was on a wrong un. Still at least I only clocked up 11.45 miles as opposed to the 12 I managed riding into work one day last week. Internet tells me it’s only 7.5 miles, I look forward to the day I manage to do it a more labour efficient…maybe tomorrow.

Much like the mixing of different food flavours, friend combining has the potential to go horribly wrong. Of course conversely there is always the chance that it may go very well indeed.

A major factor in the success of this venture is the confidence of said friends. Take M2 as an example, he has actually met most of my friends now even though we’ve only been friends for a short while. Much like myself he’s a bit of a social chameleon. I even managed to get him to a gay bar in Soho. He later admitted he wasn’t entirely comfortable in there, but showed little sign of it at the time.

Inviting a girl friend to a gathering of boys is also an easy one, particularly as my girl friends tend to be a good looking bunch and generally quite chatty. It probably also helps that to a woman, they all drink like fish.

Of course when it goes wrong, it tends to be very wrong. I have sat between different friends feeling very much under pressure to hold a conversation with two of them simultaneously. This is not an easy task and pretty much puts me in a state of tension which can ruin and evening. It is for this reason that I most often attend social events on my own.

When I broke up with the ex I initially found walking into a gathering on my own somewhat daunting, however I now have it down to a fine art. A couple of simple rules must be adhered to in order to pull it off with any sort of aplomb:

- dress well and feel great
- be fashionably late (a tricky one for someone who is constantly early)
- secure suitable position between chatty people
- never have your back to the wall (no escape route)
- know when to cut your losses and leave
- circulate

I shall be employing this method a number of times over the next week or so at a number of events, leaving do x 2, hen night and a 30th birthday party. I may also indulge in a spot of friend combining just for the hell of it…

Not sure what the problem is but when a friend clicked ‘Older Posts’ at the bottom of the page it came up with a strange blank page and a pop with html postings in it….

Beta for blogger, maybe I was a bit overly excited when I signed up? However as the page warned – there is no going back…..

When on a night out with work mates (one of whom is your boss), do not:

A Pat head of shorter than you boss in patronising manner

B Rub head of bald colleague

C Drink directly from wine bottle

D etc etc etc