[almost] found my perfect man. I said: almost Monday, 9 June, 2008

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 Apart from the fact that the restaurant resembled a stage set 1980’s style (gerish colours, outdated furniture, you get the drift), the other diners were, well, a bit old…I am not a spring chicken at 39, but I mean, the others were in their 60s, 70s and yes -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.

Brief Encounter-made in W1 Tuesday, 13 May, 2008

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 to talk to myself Thursday, 8 May, 2008

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?

Such a perfect day Saturday, 3 May, 2008

Such a perfect day indeed.

Taking advantage of some good British weather (been raining a lot recently), today I did what I do best: be a London Tourist. That’s right. Got up at 7.00am - I kid you not - had shower and long lazy coffee. Was walking on Westminster Bridge by 8.30, admiring the stunning views. Bit emotional. Had another lazy coffee and met with a tour guide and other people outside Westminster tube station at 10.00.

A walking tour! Haven’t done that for a long long time. It was the Shakespeare tour. Boat ride on the Thames - only for 15 min to the Globe Theatre - but so relaxing. Then we were off, exploring the back streets of South Bank. History and anedoctes and funny stuff. I had a good laugh, the guide was very witty. Supposed they have to be. Two hours later, we ended up at Borough Market, then the George pub (v. famous). Ahhh. Ohhh. Uhhhh. Lovely. I didn’t stay there after the tour; went back to Borough Market, had a walk around, then bought a heavenly lunch: pork & cracklings sandwich with apple sauce. I was in heaven after all. Went back to South Bank and sat at a pub, overlooking the river, St Paul’s, the City. Only supposed to stay there for a pit stop, but actually spent a whole afternoon, thinking how lucky I am to live here.

OK, four pints of bitter could have had something to do with my inebriated state, but hey, it’s Saturday! If you can’t relax on a saturday, when can you? I don’t relax often enough, actually. Anyway, got bus back home and even managed to scoff an ice cream.

London can be bad - if you don’t know what you are doing - but if you do know, on a day like today, quite frankly, there is no other place in the world I’d rather be.

Goddess of Lightning - and rightly so! Friday, 2 May, 2008

Hello! Welcome to my blog. Fulgora was the Roman Goddess of Lightning and I thought the name really describes me well. Not that I have a bit of a temper, you see. Now, a confession: I am a virgin…in a blogging sense. I am also not very good with ‘technology’ - you’ll see as we go along. I am coming out of a long period of difficulties (My Dark Ages - 2003/2007) and what better way to celebrate optimism than jumping into the darkness and see what happens? I’d like this blog to be fun. No moaning (OK, occasional naggings accepted), no big political issues (we all love Mr Bush). I love my politics, but let’s please discuss it somewhere else. Or DeaFulgora will strike. Oh, one more thing: this blog is absolutely public, so pass it along, if you want. That will satisfy my ego-centric nature to the full. Well, I told you I was a Goddess. Of Lighting, but still a Goddess!