If I wanted to get revenge...

...on all my exes to show I was over them, then God has given me the best opportunities this week.

A couple of days ago, I went to my gym for the first time and came out looking ok, I'd managed to blow dry my hair and get my face on before leaving. As I walked home and chatted on the phone to my aunt a handsome Spanish man drove past who looked familiar. It wasn't until we realised we were both staring at each other that we recognised one another. However, neither of us acknowledged the other (I was not in my gym clothes, but 'go to gym' clothes which weren't hideous, but weren't great either). I didn't care much about him, but I'd always hoped that I'd look effortlessly stunning when I'd see him next. Either way, I didn't think about him too much.

Once I got home I changed into better clothes (skinny jeans and long loose fitting black tee that looks cute) and ran out to do some errands. When I made my way home, another ex was on my bus home. Now THAT one I didn't mind seeing me, especially since I looked quite cute. We smiled said hello and I went home feeling pretty good that at how much he was grinning at me.

Today, I went to the hairdressers. I was slightly dubious as I wasn't sure what to expect with this new place and was half expecting to walk out with a mullet. The woman listened to what I tried to describe and I showed her what my hair used to be like and that I wanted to grow it back to that. I couldn't believe my luck when she actually listened to me and managed to make me look good. I walked out feeling confident and happier. I didn't bother changing (except for my scarf and bag with some work in it) and ran out.

I went down to Soho for a coffee and texted a girlfriend to see if she was in town. I sat at my usual haunt and decided to finish some much needed work. I looked at my watch every so often and realised that she must have been in the library. I finished my work and walked to campus with my coffee in my hand. I could feel a slight bounce in my step and didn't feel the need to plug my ears into my music. I'd smudged some black kohl to give me a more rock chick look and felt so glam. I was walking towards Charing Cross Road when I saw a familiar figure in a faded red t-shirt and jeans. The last guy to dump me, t-shirt man. He was deep in conversation with someone and was going to cross the road. I called out to him and he turned to me. At first he didn't really recognise me, but as he walked over a broad grin spread across his face. I felt great, I looked relaxed, cute and he finally got to see the laidback/student-y look I'd been hiding and he said he wanted to see. Although I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks I tried to act natural and was introduced to his friend. We didn't chat for long and I invited him to the party my friend and I are throwing next week. I'd already invited him, but I asked him again as he didn't seem to have gotten my invitation.

I went to see my girlfriend on campus, sure enough she was in the library. We chatted a bit and I told her about who I'd been running into. We giggled to ourselves when I felt a buzz in my pocket. T-shirt man had sent me a text, he liked my new hairdo. "When did you see him today?" My friend asked. "Half an hour before I saw you maybe?" I said. She grinned, "So that's 2 and a half hours he's been thinking about you."

I swear if I wanted to seek revenge on these guys on purpose, I'm sure the chances wouldn't have struck quite so naturally. I can't help but feel smug. I sent an invitation to t-shirt man again, he will try his best to make it and says I look well. I should get a t-shirt saying, "Cat that got the cream."

Let's see what happens at the party.

Who's a pretty bird?

It's been a while since I've sat at my fish tank and really watched the world for a while. Today, however, was not going to be one of those days when I could. I wanted to kill time before I met a friend after work, and decided that I could also do some marking for my supervisor. I walked in with a familiar air and hugged one of my favourite baristas, an Italian girl with my kind of hint of chic about her (I just love her eyes, perfectly ott without looking awful). We chatted a bit before I got my coffee and took up a seat in front of the window. I pulled out an essay and started reading through it.

I was halfway through this rather awful piece of work (I saw my former self in it quite a bit, which made me cringe quite a bit - and hopefully I'll never go back there), when I looked up I saw a somewhat odd thing. As I've said before, the best thing about Soho is that it is open to anything, and you are bound to see everything there. It was a woman crossing the street with a grey parrot perched on her shoulder. I think it was the non-chalant way this woman was going about her business, or perhaps the fact that only ONE person actually turned to watch this person walk by (other than myself), everyone else walked passed her, on their own business. Nobody took the time to look at this woman with a parrot on her shoulder. How many people had passed her and muttered "argh!" as they saw her? How many people looked on in wonder as they watched the bird sit there calmly as it was being given a free ride? How many people wondered why it wouldn't fly off her shoulder? Or perhaps, how many of its feathers had been clipped to present it from flying off?

It struck me that although this woman and her bird were probably not the most peculiar things you'd come across in London, it was still one of those moments that caught you off guard. And one of those moments that brought a strange smile to your face...

** There's going to come a time when I'm not going to be tormented by him, or the memory of his smile. There's going to come a day when I don't show a side that I thought didn't exist. There's going to come a day when I'm actually going to be in control of my feelings, thoughts and concentration. For now though, I'll let my mind wander as my eyes scroll over the words on the page... **

Tea pot head

I have gone back to my old ways, and damn have they come back with a vengeance (f*** the spelling, I'm in no mood to check it). I've locked myself in my room, and thankfully it is for all the right reasons. My work is spread out before me, to my right (all over my bed) and behind me (on the floor). I have finally started writing. It's baby steps at the moment as I'm writing my first draft, 5 pages handwritten and when I type it up, I panic over how juvenile it sounds and wonder just how I could tweak it so that my supervisor won't tell me once again that it's "not at that standard yet".

I've gone through two mugs of tea (it holds about 300ml?) and I'm still feeling the urge to make myself another mug (God bless Tetley's for making those drawstring tea bags). People think I'm mad for having so much caffiene, but in all honesty that's not why I drink it. For some strange and unapparent reason I need a hot beverage as I work. Whether it's reading or writing, I need something like tea or coffee to be around me while I work. I think it serves as some kind of relief or break as I pause for thought or something. My dad tried to make me stop once as he didn't think it was right that someone so young should be drinking so much tea. It wasn't bad in the beginning, until the mugs started getting bigger. When I got my last mug he just flipped and said I was becoming ridiculous in trying to find a bigger mug. So I reasoned with him that it was to make up for my tiny size. He didn't find that cute, and forbade me to find a bigger mug.

Once friends found out how big my mugs were and how much tea I was drinking, I happily earned the nickname 'Teapot head'. I loved it. When I moved to London and couldn't bring my crockery, I went out to find myself a mug. It wasn't exactly the same, but I managed to find my size and proudly showed it off to my gran. She was shocked that I felt I needed a mug of that size, but my little cousin burst out with "awww! I want one!" Well child, when you hit your 20's and find the superficial need for caffiene and hot drinks, you can have one. For now, (while you're 8) you can have those titchy ones!

In all honesty, it's probably the reason why I love the Starbucks on Wardour Street, why I loved studying there. It was a comfort zone for working as I'd sit by the window sill with a big mug of coffee and just get on with a bit of work. My favourite library in Chancery Lane does not allow food or drink inside, but while I was finishing off my MA dissertation I got in the habit of filling up my thermos at the local Starbucks and slipping it into my bag as I went passed security. When I used to spread my work out at my cubicle nobody said anything as they saw the steaming thermos sitting on my desk.

Ugh, I've ranted again. Or maybe I haven't? Another reason why I love the winter is because I can have my hot drinks all the time... lovely!

The 'Fish Tank'

I wasn't honest with a certain Pink Pigeon I know, I've been going down to Soho a lot more often than I should, which is taking time away from my research, but at the same time, something I've been needing. Today I recieved some disappointing news and phoned a girlfriend, I was out buying printer paper, had high heels on and just wanted to sit down. I wanted to go home, or had a snap judgement made, I got impatient and decided to go home, where it's warm and I don't have to worry about moving.

I realised, I go to Soho whenever I need to feel better. I'll get a girlfriend to meet me there, or if we've had lunch, that's the first place we'll think of to go and have a coffee. Whenever one of us is feeling bad or in need of some love, everyone knows I'll most probably be in Starbucks in Wardour Street (well last year I was there nearly all the time, now that I've started my PhD, not so much). But there are quieter times when I sit in that Starbucks and just watch the world go by. It's like sitting in a fish tank and watching life go on, it's so relaxing. I usually sit on one of those high stools in the front windows. I'll have a book, note pad or article to work on while I'm there, but every so often I'll look up and see what people pass by. One time I sat there, with only a cup of coffee in front of me. I ended up just watching the crowd pass by the window.

You'd have those regular people who would just walk past and never look in, going on about their lives, getting on with what they have to do, going through their mental lists, or just singing their theme song in their heads. Then there are those who will briefly look at the people in the front window, like you're a puppy wanting to be bought and panting against the window. Those people will give sly sideways glances to wonder if you are looking at them. When they make eye contact they quickly look away and get embarrassed. Then there are those who will look inside but look passed you, to see how packed/empty the place is, or just because they've made eye contact but move on to see what else is around. Finally there are those who will look at you and brighten your face. They are those who try to connect with you for those few seconds, and will either smile or wink, or even blow you a kiss. It's really their way of tapping the glass to get a reaction. At times I have really had a giggle at how some people will do anything to make you smile, others it's just plain weird. I have to admit though, none brings a smile bigger to my face than seeing a friend walking past the window, to come and meet me.

Everytime I walk to that Starbucks I get a sense of cosiness. It's friendly, it constantly buzzing with life and no matter what, the most interesting looking people walk past, and if you're lucky, they'll also walk in.

Older actors killing my brain...

Why is it, whenever I meet an actor of truly fine quality, I can never remember any GOOD piece of work they've done! Today I met Jeremy Irons on Wardour Street, very much by chance as these meetings usually are. He was walking along, obviously looking for somewhere, with two little dogs following him. As nobody looked like they were doing anything, I turned myself around and walked as fast as I could to try and catch up with him. Before he could cross the road I quickly trotted after him and stood behind him timidly asking if he could give me an autograph. I finally had a note pad with me, however, it was filled, to the brim with research notes! It was embaressing when he asked what I do (had to say I was a research student to explain all the papers and notes). He was very sweet and oh-so-darlingly handsome, it was lovely to hear his voice, if only I recorded the whole "and who should I make this to?" I've always loved his voice.

But could you believe it? During the time it took for him to find a page to the time it took for him to finish writing the note, I could not find a single movie I could use to compliment him with, noting him on his skill as an actor. I could only remember "Die Hard 3" which I don't think he'd consider his greatest work. I felt foolish, popcornish and completely airheaded. I felt even worse after he squeezed my hand and walked away when I remembered "Man in the Iron Mask", why couldn't I remember him as Aramis? I think I felt even worse when I looked his profile up on IMDb, "Merchant of Venice", *sigh* I loved him in that. Such a shame!

I had an even worse case was when I bumped into Terence Stamp. I was stopped in my tracks when I took one look at those beautiful, piercing blue eyes. I stopped him and asked him for an autograph, the first thing I said was, "it's odd I was browsing your profile on IMDb!" The quizzical look on his face was priceless! Or in my case, mortifying. So I had to explain what it was, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of any other movie to compliment him on other than his role as General Zod in Superman 2. However, I didn't help my case by saying he looked "fabulous" in "Prisilla Queen of the Desert"...

There's got to be a way of my brain kicking in when meeting handsome older actors...

I don't do tours...

There lies a lazy force within me which kicks in as soon as an overseas friend comes to town. I'm not like this with all my overseas friends, just the ones who expect me to "show them around". I'm sorry, I don't work that way. I'm lazy and low maintenance. If you do not know London, do not come up to me, unless you want directions. I simply do not work like that. When I see friends it's usually in places that they will know or are familiar with or are familiar with the area around it.

Last night a friend of mine wanted to see me to show her London at night. There were so many things wrong with that sentence, the first being that it was a Wednesday night where most places close at 6pm. However, being true to my name, I took her to Soho because that's the place that is awake all night, every night. My friend is from the Middle East, and although she grew up a diplomat's daughter and travelled the world, she's never quite seen something like Soho before.

We got out at Piccadilly Circus station to walk up the Windmill, where her eyes were enlarged to saucers. We turned into Brewer Street to see various sex shops and bars on either side of the street. I could see my friend start to get excited when she snuck a peak at what was inside a couple of these shops. She couldn't contain herself when we passed a gay porn shop with a couple of posters and manequins inside. As we entered into Old Crompton Road I told her THIS was the place to have fun. This was the place to bring your girlfriends for a quiet coffee and a chat, while spectating the beautiful men that would stroll pass you. She nodded and took it all in as I told her what each place did and represented (how Paul's is to die for, how Moaz has amazing falafel and how Nero has the best view but Costa had the best coffee).

Since she had bought me a gift and she was a guest in my city, I took her out to dinner. We ended up dining in Balans where the scene in mainly in black and the waiters are so good looking that you don't even want to bother wishing they were straight. I ordered my usual cosmopolitan and a bottle of water (she doesn't drink), while we started with some bread and olives, and then moved onto lemon and herb chicken. She loved the atmosphere in there. Her eyes darted around the room as she looked upon the gorgeous gay couple next to us bitching about their ex's and who was doing who, to the girls next to us to who dined on fries and a bottle of rose, to the happening group behind us who consisted of three men in suits and a girl with a stylish pair of glasses (couldn't have gone to spec savers). She soaked it all in, including the gorgeous waiter who couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't help but smile to myself as she was completely drowned in a world she was fascinated with and I'm sure would tell loads of people back home about.

After dinner we decided to skip dessert and head off to a Morrocan place that I knew was close for some shisha and tea. Zaytouna wasn't packed, but it had some interesting (yawn) people in there. We took a couch and ordered an apple shisha with some tea. I had initially wanted to have my birthday party in Zaytouna but I realised that first, it was over priced for very little, second it didn't look like it could hold the number of people I had in mind, and third, I had read a couple of reviews on the place, and other than the belly dancing and shisha, it didn't get a good review. However, my friend and I just sat there like the good old days, talking, sipping tea and listening to some really good music. Here she knew where she was and slipped into her prime, sitting back and watching the world go by while listening to some random bits of news I had. Whether or not this was the kind of sightseeing she expected, I didn't know, but all I knew was we were both very comfortable. I'm not the best tour guide and I don't do tourist attractions and landmarks, but I do meals and laidback settings where you can sit and chat without worrying.

After we had our fill of the shisha thing, I decided to do a bit of the tourist-y thing and showed her Chinatown, and then meandering to my favourite S&M lingerie shop which was still open, and then off to Carnebie Street for a quick stroll before we decided to call it a night. It was a great night as she is just as low maintenance as I, however I don't think I could have been more laidback about it all. It's terrible really because it's not as if I was running around all day, it was only that I was going out to meet her. However, friends should know by now that I'm not one to show the sights, I'm the one they call when they want someone with the bitchy one-liners.