Bonjour, c’est ma première ‘post’ en français. Veuillez pardonner les erreurs. J’aime de pratiquer mon français ou je le perdrai complètement…Je me demande pourquoi mes amis ou personnes lisent le ‘blog’ mais ne va commenter!
Voulez-vous commenter, vous voulez-vous parler avec moi ? Quelle est votre vie ? Dites-moi quelque chose que vous voulez.
Vous détestez ou aimez cette blog?
(écrivez les commentaires en français).
A bientot…
Ah, does the title intrigue you? Well, it should do. It’s all to do with a dinner I went last saturday. Nothing special about that. The dinner was organized by a social club I recently joined. I turned up at the restaurant at 7.30pm on the dot, as agreed. Only to walk in and find that all by one of the diners had already taken position at the table, chosen the menu’ and ordered the drinks. I was received with a sniffy expression of ‘oh, she has finally arrived!’. I looked around and for a moment I thought I got it all wrong. In fact, that was the restaurant, those were the people and I did get it spectacularly wrong in deciding to join in that particular meal. The problems? Apart from the fact that the restaurant resembled a stage set 1980’s style (gerish colours, outdated furniture, you get the drift), the other diners were, well, a bit old…I am not a spring chicken at 39, but I mean, the others were in their 60s, 70s and yes – wait for it – 80s! I am NOT kidding you. I don’t normally discriminate on the ground of age, but you see, I was expecting a younger age group. That’s not all. Having arrived almost last, the only seat left for me to take was opposite the older member of the gang, a retired professor, aged 83 and counting. I sat down thinking: do I leave now or do I give this man a chance and see what happens? Since these days I am challenging myself with new things, I decided to stay. What a good decision that was, too. Apart from all other diners (two women were yawning the all time, I swear), the old professor proved to be one of the most intelligent individual I have ever met. And so we spent an entire evening chatting and giggling and cracking jokes. We spent hours telling each others stories about our travels, funny anedoctes, foreign languages (he speaks a few of those, like me); I must admit I was taken back by the fact that the evening flew by. The others were left commenting and wondering what we had to say to each other and more importantly, what was oh-so-funny! Needless to say, there wasn’t any clubbing afterwards; everyone went home at 11.00. But I must say, I found myself sitting on a bus going home and giggling at some of the jokes me and The Professor had made over dinner. Will I see him again? I don’t think so. I don’t think I am his type 
Was he my perfect man? Well, 50 years ago, my dear, quite possibly. Today? Noaaa. Somehow I think that’s a pity.
Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl “Will you marry me?”
The girl said”NO!” and she lived happily ever-after and went shopping, dancing,
camping, drank margaritas, always had a clean house, never had to cook,
did whatever the hell she wanted, never argued, didn’t get fat,
travelled more, had many lovers, didn’t save money, and had all the hot
water to herself. She went to the theatre, never watched sports, never
wore friggin’ lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem,
never cried or yelled, felt and looked fabulous in sweat pants and was
pleasant all the time.
The End
PS: Before you ask, no, it didn’t happen to me.
I am still alive. Lower back aches a bit and so do the legs, but I have actually survived my first martial arts’ class. When they said that Soft Style was like tai-chi I did expect the Western Tai-Chi we all bump into, from time to time. Huh, how wrong I was. I was not the only one to get it spectacularly wrong. I am happy to say I was in good company. There was another ‘total beginner’ in the class. Pfiu’. We started with 15 minutes warm-up and this alone could have killed both of us. Honestly. The stretching was so strenuous, we were sweating and looking at each other in complete amazement. Then the lesson started. Apart from the fact that I am the most un-coordinated person to walk this Planet, it was fine. I was rubbish at it, but it was fine. I loved every minute and I can’t wait to go back. Tonight I am off to the gym and, after my usual routine, practise my moves. Isn’t it great. I get to say: I am practising my moves…cooool. On another matter, back to stretching: I thought I knew my body, but there’s the thing, I don’t. I did exercises yesterday to awake obscure muscles. God only knows where this will lead me. To Hell and back, probably. Enjoy the journey, will you? Must be good to be a spectator.
Bom dia, OK, o post em portugues, depois que recebi emails/comentarios do meus amigos brasileiros, sobre ‘o blog e’ em ingles!’…eh, queridos, eh sim em ingles…agora estou a esperar que os italianos me vao comentar a mesma coisa. Uff. Bom, hoje, segunda feira, fico um pouco melhor. Muito cinica sobre a questiao dos homems. Eu nunca vou apprender nada sobre isso assunto. Nao entendo como chego sempre no mesmo ponto: sofrendo por um homen que nao meresse. Porque nao meresse, acredita. Esta vez, nao vou chegar no ponto de nao retorno! Vou revoltar. Nao e’ justo que eu sou sempre aquela que sofre. Agora essa historia va acabar. Nao posso mudar que os homems nao sao fieis, vou mudar a minha atitude com eles. Todos amigos, mas ninguem va chegar perto do meu coracao. No way! Amo um homem que nao sei aondje esta’, gosto d’um outro que gosta de todas outras mulheres do mundo e a solucao melhor e’: mantenher o coração para mim mesmo. Ja’ pensei de fazer isso em Fevereiro, mas agora estou muito mais determinada. Estou cansada de sofrir. E’ so’ isso.
Thursday. Better than Wednesday. Much better. I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have to accept he is not interested after all and move on. Life is there for the taking. I can’t spend my time wondering what might have happened. It’s important what did happen, I messed up, end of story. You live and learn. One day I’ll learn (maybe). A friend said my standards are too high, I replied maybe they are too low, hence the problem! Who knows. I just don’t like to be treated like ’someone else.’ Not vanity, far from it. I would have liked to be special for this person, but didn’t happen. So be it. If he didn’t see me as special, what can I do. Except for thinking positive, looking forward and see what’s around the corner. Bring on the weekend.En bicicleta by La Buena Vida
Ah right, mid-week. Having spent the past two days sulking over a non-deserving guy, today I am back to almost my usual-self. That it’s not to say I am 100% back but I am getting there. Can’t deny that my thoughts are still up there, flying over my head…I have come to the conclusion that nobody deserves all this attention. How is that for a pick-me-up. Worked all morning, catching up with emails, sending out contracts and pushing thoughts out of my skull. Now I am ready to go to the gym. Haven’t been for more than 24hrs and it’s not right, just not right. Just one question to the guys out there: why the hell do you always promise to keep in touch when you know from the start that you are not going to? Isn’t easier to say that actually you’ll never call, that you could keep in touch from time to time if you have a spare moment and that’s it? I mean, that is actually it? You know the line you use: ‘it’s complicated’ really doesn’t wash with me, I am sorry. I read this as ‘I am with another woman but I am so coward, I don’t want to tell you.’ It’s OK to be honest, you know. If I am wrong, I am wrong, just tell me. Ah, you see. I need to go to the gym and get rid of all frustrations. Clearly I am not 100% yet. Maybe it’s a full moon, is there a full moon, I don’t know. Bear with me on this one, please. It’s just a phase. I hope it won’t last that long. You know what I miss the most? The good laughs. This is totally ridiculous. As if you could base anything on a good laugh alone. Right, stopping right here right now and going to the gym before I write more stupid thoughts.
I love working in London W1. Ever so posh. Just an hour ago, I popped out for some lunch and walked in straight in front of a camera. Phil Tufnell was reporting on a new event happening nearby. Probably for the BBC ONE Show. I don’t know. Well, we said ‘hello.’ Can I say he is such a nice guy in da flesh as he is on telly? Yeah, he really is. Not that he is the first – or probably the last – famous people I have seen in W1. Ohhh nooo. In no particular order, Prince Charles, Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen, Giorgio Armani, Richard Gere (my God, gorgeous), Keanu Reeves, Gordon Ramsay (so hot) and several journalists, policitians and TV presenters. Phil’s hello almost make up for my Black Monday. Or actually, it does make up, let’s be generous here. He is Mr Nice Guy, after all. The only dowside of these encounters is that you can’t ask for autographs or a photo snapping (is this too chav, hey?). They are all surrounded by an army that keeps people like me at bay. (No Madam, you can’t kiss Gordon Ramsay, no way), (Mr Gere is not available for pictures right now). Ah well, I have to be content with admiring them, close up or from a distance. No touching. In the case of Prince Charles, I consider this to be a blessing. No offence hey, but the man doesn’t exactly enthuse passion. Not to me anyway. Still, I haven’t yet given up on the idea that one day I’ll catch Gordon Ramsay by surprise and steal a kiss. Have to jump from behind though, which is not easy. This needs more planning, I suppose. Right, back to work. Day dreaming, not about Phil Tufnell (hello mate), but about grabbing Gordon Ramsay and…
Good morning? Don’t you dare! I hate mondays, I really do. To top it all off, I come in to work, check my emails and bang. Several stupid emails from several stupid middle/top managers. We have a deadline ( a week from today), I am on holidays from Wed 14 to Tue 20 and I am trying to get things done and what do they say: ‘Oh, we don’t like the faint blue line you put on that postcard’, ‘Can we not think about a different concept for the image?‘ or – wait for it – ‘Can we not organize a photo shoot, do we have time?’ - ARRGGGHHHH, no, we don’t have time to hire a model for a photo shoot, no, we can’t change the image and as for the faint blue line, live with it, alright? I still have to understand why some people get paid 50K+ to come up with such crap. Where have I gone wrong all these years? I mean, it’s different now. I have my own business and other plans, but can you believe there are people out there getting paid loads – yes, loads – to say such things??? They are not politicians either. I could understand if they were, but no. These are average people in average jobs with over inflated salaries. Do you think I need a coffee? I think I need a coffee. Black, strong and lots of it. As for mondays, this is going to be a long, long one. I hate mondays.
Let me ask you something: why you visit my blog and don’t leave any comment? I know this because of web stats. People – you – are reading this and yet, leave [almost] without a trace. Something is bothering you? Don’t you like the way I write or is it something more serious than that? And more importantly, will I ever find out? So much for having an interactive blog. More a monologue. Still, not to worry, I’ll persist in this venture for now and keep going. I am positive that [good] changes will occur, sooner or later (and there she was, telling her grandchildren in 2030 how blogs were ‘in her days…’). As an act of revenge, tonight I am going to a pub, where people talk to me. Failing that, there is always someone behind the bar I can pester. So, are you coming out or what?
