My sister took me out to dinner with her friends. Firstly, we had the pleasure of seeing a bunch of Bengali boys crash their go-kart into a wall. Then they invaded the place, as there was some kind of 'prom' happening at their school. Then our conversation was interrupted by exceptionally loud happy birthday music. In this diner you can pay £5 for the 'birthday experience'. Annoying music, 2 balloons, a badge, and a firework-sized-sparkler for your own cake. We were sat in a booth. At first all we could see was the top of the sparkler as the staff carried it. We were not ready for what happened next. Remember, the sparkler is huge. She passed the side of the booth, to reveal the cake. Or more to the point - cupcake. A tiny cupcake, icing squashed to death, with a huge sparkler precariously balancing in the middle. Well that was it, Sibby and I were pissing ourselves laughing, so much so I had to fan myself with the menu and people were looking round. Imagine spending £5 on a glorified cupcake. That child will be traumatised.
Went to Tesco and they were selling 10 sanitary towels for £3. For that kind of money, it better stop the whole damn period. More moaning about London. Rubbish everywhere, too many foreign languages and more 'world food' in Tesco than the entire frozen section. If I want world food, I'll travel. I'm in England and I want 75 different choices for oven chips and overly bland chicken. But thanks for selling ginger beer and Supermalt. London makes me lethargic, miserable and bored. I don't want to do anything and prefer to sit in a room all day. My depression has spoken. Oh, nothing sensible came from the Paddington job. After investing 2 hours talking about it, I received an email. i wnt 2 b caned by a dominat womn. He sounded so articulate on the phone. Tragic.
It's now Thursday and I've not heard from Paul. I'll give him till Sunday, then I'm leaving. Started my new medication Metformin. Official use diabetes, but also useful in the treatment of PCOS. Went straight onto 1500mg per day and for the first two days I felt like shit. Might also have had something to do with the fact I 'accidentally' ate two hot cross buns. Wheat allergy is hard. Sometimes I fail. And I suffer for it.
Sunday arrives, with no return calls, so I head back to the marina alone. I'd arranged with Dan to go on a trip around the broads! That night I slept on his moored boat. Wasn't very comfortable as I had the smaller 'sofa bed' area. At 6 o fucking clock he woke up for coffee. It took all my resolve to not throw my tea in his face as he rambled on. He made me bacon and eggs at 8am, so was once again, my new best friend. After that we left the marina, and for the first time in my adult life, I was on the water, in a boat that wasn't a ferry. I was worried about getting sea sick, so on his advice, constantly reminded myself that I was on a boat, and we're moving. It actually worked!
It wasn't until we were on the river that it was established, that this, 73 year old, grey-haired, pot-bellied, wrinkled human being found me attractive in that way. I had to refrain from being sick in my mouth. And he was married. Perhaps I'm naive, but damn, I wasn't expecting that. Urgh. I informed him, that any woman under 30, with a man over 70 is interested in one thing only. Money. And I'm not interested in your money, and if I was, you don't have nearly enough to make that sacrifice worth while. It took a while [2 days] but he finally decided to see me as his niece. I suggested granddaughter, keep it in perspective. He only then, truly realised he was old. Wisdom, it seems does not appear with age.
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