I don't usually blog on a Friday because people don't check blogs so much on weekends. It's a break from work, more often than not. Isn't it? You lazy bunch!
But I have had a goodish week and will have a better weekend, so there is much catching up to do.
First of all, when I left the insurance co this evening, they said they hoped it had not been too boring for me - probably because I got the work done sooo fast. I made no comment because it really had been. When another secretary said she hopes to see me soon, I laughed and she said, "Unless you get a job first!" Seriously, this was the first office I most definitely could not consider working at - insurance is not half as interesting as capital markets (I never thought I would say that), and I found myself missing the audio job I had last year in the City.
Secondly, on Tuesday my dear friends Diva and Nags sent me a lavish bouquet because being nearly admitted to hospital, she tearfully informed me that she is unable to attend my party. It is such a big bunch of flowers that my landlady is happy to host them on the dining room table in a Lalique vase.
I have other parcels arriving in the post in the next few days from all over the place. Unfortunately, my guest list is so reduced that it will be a very quiet affair, rather than an all out dinner.
Secondly, I got a call two days after an email (which I had not replied to) from a publishing co - I had emailed my CV in for a job ad in their interior design section. I have never been chased up before and it's great. So I told him what writing sample I would send, and I appreciated the fact that he said I had the sort of CV they were looking for, and that even though I hadn't written about interiors, my art history skills were certainly transferrable. ABOUT TIME someone said that: transferrable.
Thirdly, Thursday was my favourite day because I got to meet up with Mr Gorgous Eyes again, you know, the one from Saturday. I must say, for a guy he keeps in touch really well. Like, every day. Awesome eh!
It was an adventure. I walked from Tower Hill to Blackfriars to kill the time until he got off work. I carried my camera with me and took photos, by the way, but the day was so hazy that I wasn't that trigger-happy.
I stopped at House of Fraser (didn't know there was one in the City) to pick up some face lotion, and 5 minutes after I left, I realised she hadn't given my debit card back. I ran like the wind; fortunately, she had used the till in a quiet corner and no one had even been there since I left, and it was still there. Whew. Well, after that little adrenaline rush, I had a huge slump and it took a lot of effort to make it to Blackfriars, especially as I was along the river and kept doubling back looking for the exit to the station. And out of 8 exits, I happened to use the exact one where he was waiting, about to text.
We chattered away like a couple of, well, chatty people, and walked to the destination I had chosen, Smithfield Market. I had been there before and enjoyed the restoration of the Victorian structure and the cool bars and restaurants inside. As soon as we got to the area, it felt wrong. We walked around and around, checked the map, asked some people, and then gave up. It must have been another market (Leadenhall, I found out later).
We decided it would be much better to head to familiar territory so we got on the Tube and went to Bond Street, only we didn't end up there (third disaster) - we both swore we ran to the southbound Jubilee train before the doors closed, but for some reason ended up in St John's Wood. So back we went, and found a tiny Turkish restaurant at St Christopher's Place. In the train he said he liked halloumi, and lo and behold there was some grilled on the starters menu. Squeaky Cypriot cheese, which I like to put in pasta - when it's hot it's really squeaky.
Sea bream, calamari, wine - and check out the lamps on the ceiling. They were dense:
It was the same behind me. Fortunately, Eyes is sufficiently obscured by the darkness and he remains a mystery!
But as more wine was imbibed the company got louder and we were shouting to be heard, so we tried to go somewhere for coffee and dessert. The creperie was closing; Carluccios only had space at the bar, so we left; Pizza Express kicked us out because they don't serve only dessert when it is busy...
Shit, I really am utterly disappointed. Someone else just called to cancel. After a promising start to the week...there are only two or three people guaranteed to turn up at the dinner, and possibly three or four more for the drinks. This is after starting with a list of 17 and getting 10 to accept. Half of them are out of the country, the others are sick or have prior engagements, but those latter will try to come along at some point.
Lydia says we could ditch the restaurant, but the stragglers might turn up. We can laugh about it, she says. Hm...if anyone can make me laugh, it's her.
On a lighter note, Christopher (who also can't be there) and his mum sent me a cheque for £30. What memorable item should I purchase with it?