Friday

I have taken a job at a university teaching an English course.  these types of jobs are not hard to get -- the amount of foreign students coming here now is just phenomenal.

There was not much sun this past summer, and as a result it seems many people are walking around feeling cheated...there are a lot of glum faces on the tube.  Summer is usually our party time, and this year it just didnt happen.

I'm not going out as much as I used to...money is very tight at the moment...everything seems much more expensive.  All of a sudden it seems stupid to spend £10 on a drink :-)

Friday

The Beginning of the Affair?

I’m having an affair with a married woman.  How did it come to this?  I’m not sure myself.  I don’t believe people purposefully go out and say, “I want to have an affair with a married woman” (or man).  I believe people often find themselves in situations via a combination of choice, circumstance and randomness.

About two months ago, I joined an online forum to discuss art.  I’m not sure how it began but I stared to have daily conversations with a woman on subjects ranging from modern art to literature and cinema.  She was intelligent, witty and overtly confident.  The conversations became increasingly flirtatious and one day I suggested we meet.  I’m not sure what for.  I just felt like we were becoming friends and that I wanted to talk to her in person.  I will not deny that I found her physically attractive. 

We went for a drink in a pub in Notting Hill just across the road from the underground station.  After about an hour chatting, she told me she was married.  I was shocked and didn’t know how to react.  She said to me “You can be my lover”.  This was something no one had ever said to me before and again I was not sure how to react.  I acted unsurprised and continued with the conversation.  She intrigued me.

She was complex.  If I could paint a picture, I would say that English girls were like a piece of string…very straightforward and easy to read.  She was like ball of rubber bands.

The way she put her situation was thus: she had met her husband five years ago in Serbia when she was nineteen and he was thirty-five.  They came to the UK together and after two years married…but only because she needed a British passport.  She said they were now like “room-mates”.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard such a story in London.  The desire to get into London and gain a British passport is such that many people are getting married out of convenience and buying marriages so that they can stay and earn the British pound.  I know two Australian girls that did it.

She is Serbian.  I must admit to having a fascination with Eastern European women.  I have never known one.  Perceptions over here are that Eastern European women are beautiful, ruthless, mercenary, a little crazy and quite “hard”.

It’s not the first time I have found myself in the position of being involved with a married woman.  I once chatted-up a woman in a bar and took her number.  After our first date, she told me she was “living” with a guy but that it was all over…they were even sleeping in separate beds.  Still, I felt uncomfortable and told her so, and backed-off.  This was the right thing to do.

Seeing her makes me feel BAAD.  I like feeling BAAD.  I do have respect for the sanctity of marriage but I have gotten to the point that I cannot help myself.  Whatever happens I feel I have to see this thing through.  You see, I believe it could be true love.  Maybe I’m being naive but only time will tell.

Tuesday

Three weeks have passed and nothing has happened with Rea.  I called a few times and we arranged to meet.  But then she or I would reschedule.  She is still in my phone but I’ll wait for her to phone me.

Notting Hill

There appears to be a misunderstanding, a misperception surrounding Notting Hill...especially by Americans. 

Notting Hill is not the glamorous place you think it is.

True, some of the wealthiest people in the country live here; true, some of most well known celebrities live here; but Notting hill is also home to one of the oldest and largest communities of West Indians in London.  And they are not doing so well.

They came in the 1950s and 60s and settled here...befre it was trendy.  And they stayed here.  But they live in small, governemnt owned flats. 

These flats are directly next to the large coloured hosue Notting hill is famous for

http://cuboidal.org/photos/2005/01/15/IMG_0265-medium.jpg

http://dev.null.org/_gal/i/London/NottingHill1/img_7393?s=V

I had to move in with my sister after losing my job.  I could no longer afford the rent on my flat ($1,200) a month.  My sister lives on the edge of Notting Hill near a place called Maida Vale.

I suppose when you see other parts of London, this area would be considered "upper tier".

The Third Date

I was nervous.  So I arranged to meet with Marty for a drink before hand.  By text, me and the girl had set a date to meet at London Bridge Station.

I left my flat at around 4PM (by the way, I lost my job last week...there appears to be some sort of recession happening?) and went to London Bridge early.  Marty was finishing work at around 5.15 so I waited for him at The Horniman, a pub we drink at sometimes.

http://tinyurl.com/5dp44n

I opt to sit outside as the sun is out.  There are loads of tourists around and there is competition for space to sit down.   Soon after, Marty arrives and we set to drinking.  It is the usual chit chat...football, James' wedding and films.

After a few hours we make our way towards London Bridge station.  We spot a rather plain-looking girl with sunglasses (think Chloe Sevigny without makeup.  I must admit one of my weaknesses is heavily made-up women, dressed to the nines). 

 "Is that her"?  Marty asks ""...eleven o'clock" (Marty always uses military terminology).  "I dont think so" I say...she looked TOO plain.  Then again, people always send you their best photos over the net.

I say goodbye to Marty then wait.  I wait for around 10 minutes then decide to call the girl.

The plain-looking one answers her phone.  I hang-up, smile and walk over.  She is quite shy...unlike the first two that I met and it's a bit of a struggle to keep up a conversation.

We walk towards tower bridge...through the old wherehouse district.  It's quite a long walk.  we end up at All Bar One...a professional's watering hole.

My goal is to drink as much as I can, thus making myself drunk enough to avoid awkwardness.  But there is little need to; Rea (the girl) is intelligent, sweet and friendly.

We stay there drinking and talking for about three hours before Rea decides we should call it a day. 

Unlike the other dates, during this date, I have bought all the drinks, but that doesnt bother me...actually it makes me feel good; I dislike it when I girl stops me from paying.

This was the best of the dates...it feels natural.  So we'll see what happens.

The 2nd date

I arranged to meet the second of the girls in central London near my flat in South Kensington. 

When I saw her I was not attracted to her in the slightest but she looked like a nice person.  I thought I should give it a chance.

We walked around the corner to a local pub and had some cokes.  It was an unusually hot today and alcohol was the last thinbg I wanted to drink.

We talked about our past relationships and I discovered that she had led a very eventful life: she had ran away from home at 16 and become pregnant at 17.  This freaked me out a little.  Not because I dont know the realities of life and its unpredictability but because this was not really my domain...I think I unconsciously go for university types with very predictable lifestyles...graduated at 22, career at 23 types.

We talked a lot and we became hungry.  I suggested we walk to Kings Road to get something to eat.

After a lot of walking we decided on an Iranian restaraunt.  We sat down to eat and ordered some food.

I was enjoying the conversation until she started to eat...much of the food that she was supposed to be consuming came directly across the table at me.  What was even more surprising was that she did'nt even notice.  I think I made up my mind there and then that I was not interested in her romantically.

After we had finished I walked her to Sloane Square station and said goodbye.

She sent me a text message a few days later and I responded cordially.  But I think she could tell I was'nt really interested.  That was three weeks ago and we have not spoken since.

Three blind dates

For some reason (probably boredom) I decided to arrange some blind dates via the Internet.

I went on a site called "Gumtree".

http://www.gumtree.com/london/girls-seeking-guys-dating_72_1.html

I put in a free ad specifying the age I wanted the girl to be (between 23 and 35), my interests (bars, art and writing) and said that I loved "good legs" most of all.

Three women responded.

The 1st date.

I was sent (to my e-mail) a very small picture of a cute-looking girl and a little bit about her.  She had a degree in fine art and sounded quite fun so I gave her a call.

We arranged to meet near where she lived, a place walled "Walthamstow" in North London.  North London is not my manor so I was looking forward to seeing somwhere new.

When we met later that evening, she was not what I had expected.  She was tall.  I am around 5 foot 10 and she was about 5 foot 11.  This made me feel a little weird...I dont think I've ever been out with anyone taller than me.  However, it was only an inch.

She was not as god-looking as the picture she sent...I believe this is always the case; people send their best pictures, people always put their best foot forward.  I suppose that's natural.

We walked and talked for a little while.  She said she was going to show me around the neighborhood.  She took me to several pubs.  I must say, the atmosphere and ambience was much more convivial than I was used to.  Going out in central London is much more pretentious, much more aggressive and tense.  Here, the atmosphere was light and sunny and open.

We drank for several hours, taking on all subjects from art to music.  She had a degree in fine art but had been working in administration as jobs in art are very hard to come by; restricted for those with contacts or high talent or extreme patience.  Although scholarly, I sensed a degree of recklessness in her.  This was confirmed when she told me she had been a lap-dancer.  Immediately, my interest perked-up...she did'nt really look the type.

It was around midnight when we decided to call it a night.  She walked me to the bus station and we said our goodbyes.  I didnt kiss her.  I dont take kissing lightly and will only do it if I feel a real need to.  I was'nt sure if I would call her again.

(to be continued)

Thursday 4.45PM

I'm in Canary Wharf

http://www.blwtl.uwo.ca/User/Doc/Buildings_FeatSheet_Canary%20Wharf,%20London,%20England.pdf

to see Marty and James.  James is getting maried in three weeks and this will probably one of the last times the three of us will be able to drink without time limits.

The streets are empty.  I managed to get off from work early...the people who work in Canary Wharf are notoriously driven by their employers (mostly American companies) so I wont see anyone until 5PM.  I can only see the smokers outside.

The buldings are spotless and the streets are modern; efficient, uniform; unlike the rest of London, this place has only been built for business, not for living.

Today I went for an interview at an advertising agency

http://www.theenginegroup.com/

They would pay me more, they are bigger, they have more "arms".

I went into the office unflustered, relaxed and blase; I didnt care wether I got the job or not.  As with all ad agencies in London, the people were beautiful, like models.

But the interview didnt happen...there had been some mix-up between me and the employment agency...I didnt care.  Maybe I'm having a "black" day?

Monday

I had a meeting this morning on the other side of London...I had a meeting at three in Victoria, and I had a meeting at four back in Chelsea.  I'm looking for a new job...my boss has now got me doing the job of three people.  The Bulgrian girl was fired...just before one year of her employment was up...so my boss couldnt get into trouble (you're not supposed to employ people who are not residents of the European Community).  The diplomat's son quit unexpectantly and I was given his workload.

After I finished work, I decided to meet my friend James.  We went to Coq d'Argent in the city.

http://www.worldarchitecturenews.com/index.php?fuseaction=wanappln.showprojectbigimages&img=3&pro_id=1207

I got into the city early and decided to go to Ponti's Italian restaurant in Liverpool Street for an all-day breakfast...but it had been turned into a Starbucks.  Seems like there are Starbucks on every corner of London now.  I decided to go to McDonald's instead.

Although I want to leave this life of drinking, bars, and schmoozing behind, I cant seem to...London wont let me.  I want to save money but I just cant seem to stop spending...restaraunts, pubs, bars...its just a long, neverending series of meetings, dinners and networking.

Monday

I saw Lin again today...why can I not get away from my ex's?  I had to go over there to pick up some stuff...she had let me leave some things when I was going away to Leeds to study.

When I got there I could see she was depressed, she was not getting along with her flat-mates.  They had started out as friends but somehow the relationship had gone bad.  I suspected Linda as the culprit...when you meet her at first she is an angel, but after a wile she becomes introverted and difficult (stobborn and suspicious).

She moaned for about two hours and I listened without comment.  I gathered that part of the problem had to do with money -- she was paying her flat-mate rent and her flat-mate didnt want to give her anything in writing...whether it be reciepts or contracts.

I did'nt want to hear about it...when you need a friend Linda is not there...but she feels she can be your friend when it suits her.  I tried to calm her down and alay her fears.  But what can I do in a situation like this?  I am not ashamed to say that once upon a time I was in love with Linda...the thing was I did'nt want to be drawn back into "her world".

I stayed for two cups of tea and we tried to talk about other things...Gordon Brown, the possibility of me doing a Phd, her boyfriend.  She said that she had begun to go to bed early...at around 10PM.  She was studying to be an accountant and her exam was soon.  I wanted to leave so told her that I had better let her sleep.

She walked me to the station and we said goodbye -- I dont know when I'll see her again but whenever it is I wont be worried.

Back to the city

I got a call out of the blue from an old sparring partner, Neil.  When I worked in the city, we used to go out for lunch and drink together.  He was at Merrill Lynch now. 

He wanted me to go out for a drink back in the old neighborhood...the city...I had avoided it for the longest time, not wanting to be sucked back into that life -- spending 100 pounds a night on beer.  But I decided to go...I dont know why -- maybe it was out of curiosity?  Curiousity of what the city had become?  But I also missed the life, that life of recklessness.

We were to meet at a bar called Prohibition near Liverpool St. station

http://www.citypubs.co.uk/pubs/prohibition.html

Upon walking in I felt the old passion come over me.  The place was filled with pin-striped suits and well turned-out PAs.  Pin striped-suits and long, black wool coats -- it was de rigeur.  I felt out of place, and in place simultaneously.

Inside was dark, but not so dark that you could'nt see people's faces.  Large, rectangular, cream lampshades hung low from microscopic wires.  The interior had been decorated by some trendy designer.   

Neil told me that this was the place to pick up women.  "Their here to meet rich men..." he said,"...a lot of traders come here". 

We stayed a while then I got a text from my other mate James...there was a free party on Kings Road.  This appealed to me as there would be free drinks and I would be close to home.  I told James to drive through the city and pick us up.  Thirty minutes later James turned-up.

The party was at a bar called Mahariji.  Nima said it sounded like a good bar.  When we got there it was about 11PM but it was empty.  We went in anyway.  The walls are white and the lighting is neon blue and green.  There was free champagne so we got stuck in.  Just as we wee about to leave more people started turning-up...women who looked like models...Victoria Hervey was there

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Victoria_Hervey

as was the young Collins, of the Collin's publishing family (English Dictionaries), and Prince William's friends.  Here, the men are all dressed the same: blue blazers, jeans, white striped shirts, and low-key Gucci shoes.

The people are freindly here though, not at all like I expected and the music is good, the atmosphere is sociable and there is a party mood.

At 4AM I call it a night and walk home.