Last thing you heard, I was exhausted and it was Wednesday. Now I'm exhausted and it's Sunday. So far, so similar. Thursday I was ridiculously excited about getting my hair cut by the legendary Adrian, who has made two of my friends look like glamorous celebrities with his dramatic scissor-work. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to convey exactly what I wanted, so I too ended up looking like a celebrity. Sadly Einstein wasn't the one I'd had in mind. It's all a bit shaggy and messy, which I'd said I liked sometimes, but not all the time... Ah well, you live and learn. After that, I decided to cheer myself up by going for a few beverages in Camden with some new friends who I met off the internet, which was really fun but not quite the quiet night I had planned to have in order to conserve my energy for my date-fest this weekend.
Friday night was date one, and he was pretty much as expected: a really nice and genuine guy but there was no real spark. The low point was when we arrived at our dinner venue and he marched straight to the table and pushed his way through the gap between ours and our neighbours', seating himself heavily on the bench seating and knocking over an empty Coke bottle on the next table with his buttock. Lady faces the room? Not on Friday night. I reprimanded myself immediately - I am aware I'm being ridiculous and narrow-minded, you know - but my feelings must have flashed across my face as my date then asked if everything was OK. I felt bad. But of course, if the chemistry had been there, it wouldn't have been an issue. Really fun night though so no regrets.
Saturday morning was spent asleep, and then at 1ish I went up to North London to meet date two. I had suspicions that this gentleman would be lovely but that, again, there would be no real burst of passion - and once again, I was pretty much right. We walked six miles, from Chalk Farm across Primrose Hill, along the Regent's Canal, up and over down Church Street via a brief pause in the amazing Alfie's Antique Market, down to Paddington Green and onto the Grand Union Canal, over to Golborne Road via Lisboa, all the way down Ladbroke Grove and along Notting Hill Gate until we realised we weren't going to make it to the Natural History Museum by 4.30pm and we had to sprint for a bus. I was sweating and looking desperately uncool at this point, but had to scrape back my hair and pretend I was the glamourpuss I intended him to see.
We got to the museum and enjoyed the feeling of smugness when we asked the woman at reception for directions to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition and she informed us with unconcealed satisfaction that it was completely sold out and then had to disguise her surprise that these perspiring individuals had pre-booked tickets. The exhibition was excellent as usual, and my companion took things enjoyably seriously, demanding that, having looked around all the photos, we take another turn of the possible winners and decide on our candidate before finding out who the judges had picked. In the end, we were both wrong: the winning photograph was - well, I won't give it away, but it was taken by a camera that the photographer had set to be activated by movement. The animal in question had wandered by late at night, and triggered the sensor while the photographer was tucked up in bed. Not a great deal of skill there, I don't think.
After the exhibition, we went to look at the hummingbird tree in the Birds section, were amazed by Minerals displays which I'd pooh-poohed, were saddened by the giant sequoia section, and were blown away by the diamonds in The Vault. Then we walked to a local pub, where I changed out of my walking boots and into some high heels. We had a few drinks and then, realising we were peckish and fancied a burger, headed into town for a trip to Joe Allen's. Arriving at 9ish, I wasn't surprised it was full, but we sat at the bar and nattered until a table became free, had a delicious medium-rare all-beef patty and then headed home - ten hours after we'd met.We didn't stop talking all day, he was a seriously nice guy and I loved being in his company. I'm not sure that either of us felt that rip-your-shirt off sparkiness but that said, I absolutely adored every minute of yesterday and would happily see him again. He is guileless, quirky, refreshing, kind, inspiring and gentle and I... well, I don't know what will happen. Which is nice. Life's full of surprises, isn't it?
Now I'm lying on my sofa, have just seen Dead Wife Daniel evicted at last from this week's X Factor, and am contemplating whether to watch a lot of Family Guy or do something more beneficial. I cooked a delicious melange of peppers, onions, sweet potato, garlic, feta, oregano, bay leaves and chilli seeds for lunch and I am feeling pleasantly stuffed. Added to that the satisfaction of knowing my bed has clean sheets and that I have a fun week ahead, and you could say I'm unattractively pleased with myself. Don't worry, it won't last.
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