This is also actually a supplement story to the Romantically Challenged entry I wrote last year (the one where I tried to start a conversation with a nice-looking guy who worked in a chocolate shop by more or less asking him if he liked chocolate... yes, yes I know).
On that same day Lucia and I were perusing all the different flavours in that shop when another man who worked there came to educate us about chocolate.
"Chocolate is a journey", he said almost reverently at one point as he handed us a sample. Lucia and I stole a glance at each other, neither one of us sure if he was being serious or pulling our legs.
"Yes, you can really pick out different types of flavours," Lucia said bravely, subtly turning to me to give a half-shrug as I quirked an eyebrow back.
"It's interesting how chocolate from different origins works with different flavours: for example the truffles over there all work well with fillings, whereas this sort of chocolate is good enjoyed flat." He held out a bar of chocolate to indicate.
"What do you mean, 'flat?'" I asked, still in the world of flavours. Now both Lucia and the store assistant turned to look at me.
"...Flat?" The store assistant repeated slowly.
"Er- yes," I began, the feeling of realising I'd misunderstood something obvious- but still not knowing what it was- making my face slowly flush.
"It's a flat chocolate," he said, just as flatly.
"Yes. Um. Yes, but what does 'flat' mean?"
I saw Lucia grin out of the corner of my eye, realising that I wasn't actually asking about what the word itself meant, as the shop assistant looked at me like I was some kind of buffoon.
"It's flat. The chocolate is flat. See?" He held it out in the palm of his hand.
Flat. It had a flat shape.
The penny dropped.
"Ohhh I see! Haha, I thought you were talking about flavour or texture, like when a soft drink is fizzy or flat, and I was wondering if there was a chocolate equivalent of a flat drink, or..." I tailed off, embarrassed.
"No." He said, and simply walked off. I felt my face grow hotter and hoped that the other nice-looking guy hadn't overheard.
~Fin~
'What does flat mean?' Hah. In my defence, it's not that I'm stupid: it's just that I'm so clever that sometimes my tangled brain overcomplicates things unnecessarily- this has actually been said about me many times.
Funnily enough, this often ends up having exactly the same effect as being stupid.
Showing posts with label lucia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lucia. Show all posts
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Moments with Friends- Part 1
I wish I could write down every single special (in every sense of the word) moment I share with each of my friends to keep for ever and ever- it's possibly a bit late to start now, since so many have already been all but forgotten.
Like the time Ruthie and I bought some snacks and were deciding who's bag to put them in, and a total stranger (a guy, for the record) walking past quipped to Ruth 'Put it in yours, totally.'
Or another time when Siu Yen, Josh and I were attempting a trio self-photo when a guy suddenly jumped over the fence behind us, exclaiming 'Yeeeah picture time guys, this is great!', got his phone out and self-photo-ed himself with the three of us before disappearing. (All three of us assumed that the other two of us knew this guy. No-one knew this guy.)
Or the time Toria and I were at Sidmouth folk music festival and she pulled me out of being run into when I blindly walked into a circle of Morris men weilding sticks about to start dancing.
Or even the time Lucia and I spent a good amount of time hand-making dryad costumes for a 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe' costume party, painting on our faces and putting streamers in our hair and everything, when everyone else turned up looking normal (save for one rather half-arsed Lion and one guy who wore a box marked 'Wardrobe').
I think I need to start capturing more of these, starting from now.
Today, Siu Yen and I went on an afternoon tea cruise on the Thames. (Tea and cake on a boat- what's not to like?) We had about half an hour of a guided tour down the river just before food was served, and although a lot of other people were just talking through it, Siu Yen and I were paying attention. Mostly, anyway.
"Where's the dog?" Asked my friend.
"What dog?" I asked, frowning.
"He (the tour guide) just said: 'And on the right you'll see a wet dog.'"
"Siu Yen, I think he said 'wet dock'."
"Ohh! I did think that was a weird thing to point out."
Later on, we were trying to decide who wanted which macaron (there was a chocolate one, a vanilla one and a strawberry one): I find this sort of uneven rationing of food slightly irritating, and usually solve it with a game, wager or a song depending on the situation. Since neither of us particularly wanted one over the other, I went for a song. I pointed my finger at the closest morsel, and sang under my breath 'My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean', jabbing at each macaron with each syllable until the song had finished and I landed on the one that I'd end up eating.
As I landed on the final one ('Oh bring back my bonnie to ME') and plucked it from the tray, I caught my friend staring warily at me.
"Er... what?"
"What on Earth was that?" Asked my friend.
"What?" I asked again, macaron still hovering in mid-air halfway to my mouth.
"That song, what was it? It was a little creepy!"
"You've never heard of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean? Old folk song, men going off to war, the women sing about it and the like?"
"Nope. But I'm glad it's 'Bonnie'. I thought you said 'Body'."
~Fin~
Like the time Ruthie and I bought some snacks and were deciding who's bag to put them in, and a total stranger (a guy, for the record) walking past quipped to Ruth 'Put it in yours, totally.'
Or another time when Siu Yen, Josh and I were attempting a trio self-photo when a guy suddenly jumped over the fence behind us, exclaiming 'Yeeeah picture time guys, this is great!', got his phone out and self-photo-ed himself with the three of us before disappearing. (All three of us assumed that the other two of us knew this guy. No-one knew this guy.)
Or the time Toria and I were at Sidmouth folk music festival and she pulled me out of being run into when I blindly walked into a circle of Morris men weilding sticks about to start dancing.
Or even the time Lucia and I spent a good amount of time hand-making dryad costumes for a 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe' costume party, painting on our faces and putting streamers in our hair and everything, when everyone else turned up looking normal (save for one rather half-arsed Lion and one guy who wore a box marked 'Wardrobe').
I think I need to start capturing more of these, starting from now.
Today, Siu Yen and I went on an afternoon tea cruise on the Thames. (Tea and cake on a boat- what's not to like?) We had about half an hour of a guided tour down the river just before food was served, and although a lot of other people were just talking through it, Siu Yen and I were paying attention. Mostly, anyway.
"Where's the dog?" Asked my friend.
"What dog?" I asked, frowning.
"He (the tour guide) just said: 'And on the right you'll see a wet dog.'"
"Siu Yen, I think he said 'wet dock'."
"Ohh! I did think that was a weird thing to point out."
Later on, we were trying to decide who wanted which macaron (there was a chocolate one, a vanilla one and a strawberry one): I find this sort of uneven rationing of food slightly irritating, and usually solve it with a game, wager or a song depending on the situation. Since neither of us particularly wanted one over the other, I went for a song. I pointed my finger at the closest morsel, and sang under my breath 'My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean', jabbing at each macaron with each syllable until the song had finished and I landed on the one that I'd end up eating.
As I landed on the final one ('Oh bring back my bonnie to ME') and plucked it from the tray, I caught my friend staring warily at me.
"Er... what?"
"What on Earth was that?" Asked my friend.
"What?" I asked again, macaron still hovering in mid-air halfway to my mouth.
"That song, what was it? It was a little creepy!"
"You've never heard of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean? Old folk song, men going off to war, the women sing about it and the like?"
"Nope. But I'm glad it's 'Bonnie'. I thought you said 'Body'."
~Fin~
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Short Stories: Dancing In Front of Strangers
'I don't dance.' A common phrase of mine, say, five odd years ago. Fast forward five years on and my friend Lucia shows me her wedding DVD, which at one point features me gleefully doing the robot on the dance floor.
I've posted about the zumba classes in this blog before, which should already say something about the class' blogworthyness. Tonight, after most of the years of my life spent telling people I don't dance, I volunteered to be a demonstrator for one of the dances. This involved a lot of solo-samba-ing, air-boxing and, more mortifyingly, wiggling my hips at the rest of the class.
Me, dancing around and shaking my tush in front of about twenty other people.
Haaaahahahahaha.
I feel like I have a great big '1' drawn on the invisible scoreboard of my life, somewhere.
I've posted about the zumba classes in this blog before, which should already say something about the class' blogworthyness. Tonight, after most of the years of my life spent telling people I don't dance, I volunteered to be a demonstrator for one of the dances. This involved a lot of solo-samba-ing, air-boxing and, more mortifyingly, wiggling my hips at the rest of the class.
Me, dancing around and shaking my tush in front of about twenty other people.
Haaaahahahahaha.
I feel like I have a great big '1' drawn on the invisible scoreboard of my life, somewhere.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
My First Metal Concert/ People-Sniffing
I have been listening to Nightwish since I was about fifteen years old- so ten years, then. Not only have I never seen them live before, but I've never seen any band live, so I was pretty damn excited for my first one to be Nightwish.
I queued up outside the Birmingham O2 Academy with my friend Lucia in my black skinny jeans, burgundy biker-style jacket and great big boots just in case anyone would be treading on anyone else's feet (I figured I'd go for the 'crush or be crushed' approach), brimming with anticipation and yes, a little bit of fear too- another friend had warned me about things like walls of death and circle pits (both forms of extreme moshing- look them up on YouTube for an idea of the carnage that can occur), and I was warned to avoid the front and stay towards the back.
So, of course, you can guess where I ended up being chivvied.
I needn't have worried though- although there was the odd bit of pushing and shoving up at front, the crowd was quite diverse in age and nature and, for the most part, surprisingly courteous to each other. At one point a quad of loudmouthed yobs tried to start a wall of death by bodyslamming around, but to my amusement were met with very icy and very British glares all round from long-haired young metalheads to more mature-looking revellers alike. It was a real mix of real people- mostly of student stock, of course, but plenty of people in the next tier of age like myself, and quite a few more seasoned concert goers, too. I even saw an old boy in a wheelchair up in the circle.
However, I happened to have two freaking weird people behind me for a large portion of the concert. The guy, who I shall refer to as Curlybonce for his mop of corkscrew hair, was as dull as a marshmallow spoon, and the girl- possibly his girlfriend- who I shall refer to as Rainbowhead for her admittedly awesome rainbow-striped hair, was, well... anyway, Curleybonce's eyes looked like this: =_= and Rainbowhead's eyes looked like this: O_O, so they were both at very least thoroughly marinated. Throughout the supporting band Pain's performance I was vaguely aware of someone pressing up right against my back and almost in the crook of my neck, but hey, I was more or less in a mosh pit (although people were only really lightly moshing at the best of times), so it didn't really bother me much (and certainly not as much as later on when a big guy was flush against me and there was something not-quite-right digging into my back... again, I chalked that up to a hazard of being in the stalls).
I think it was when the supporting band Pain went offstage that I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rainbowhead's nose about two inches from mine, her wide eyes staring into my soul. She said to me in hushed tones,
"Excuse me, but you smell absolutely incredible."
Er.
"I do?" My super-friendly defence mechanism kick-started itself and I grinned like a maniac. "Haha, aww, thank you!"
"Yes, you smell amazing." She edged closer and I tried and failed to take a step back, having nowhere to go in the sardine can that was the front of the stalls. "Tell me, what do you use?"
"It's this new oil perfume from Lush- do you know Lush?" I said, feeling more like I was in my element now (being a Lush fan for many years and having worked for them at one point). "It's called Sikkim Girls." I smiled and turned around, thinking I'd done my job and been helpful. I felt the small hand on my shoulder again and turned around, Rainbowhead's face still occupying the same amount of my personal space as it had before.
"Is it Vanillary?"
"Er... no it's... it's Sikkim Girls. It's more of a-"
"Hey guys you really need to check this out, come over and smell her she smells amazing!" Rainbowhead had whipped around to address Curlybonce and a few others apparently from their group, and she whipped back round at me. "Come back here so everyone can smell you!"
Feeling quite like I was quite back out of my element again, I faltered. "I'm really quite happy right here where I am, thank you..."
"Aww, but I want everyone to check your perfume out, come on!"
"Um, no?"
Lucia (keeping in mind this is the same friend who I mentioned a while back got married in June), who had been previously jostled relentlessly by Rainbowhead's erratic 'dancing' and was watching in disbelief, rounded on Rainbowhead and told her to cut it out.
"Oh," Said Rainbowhead in a mock-conspiratory tone to me, "I'd better leave you alone, I don't think your friend- or girlfriend, whichever- likes me."
"Just friend", I laughed, just as Lucia snapped "Her friend, actually."
Rainbowhead shrugged and smiled dreamily. "Friend, girlfriend, who knows?"
"I know, and I'm telling you." Lucia retorted (as I tried not to laugh even harder at my friend's loyal outrage on my behalf and at this girl's obliviousness). Lucia gritted her teeth as Rainbowhead imitated her voice and turned her back to her.
As for Curlybonce, he kept shoving into me and elbowing me in the head for most of the supporting act until I yelled 'Oi' and Lucia poked him and told him to back off (met only with this face: =_= and without a word). Then, later on when marshals were getting us to pass cups of water down to the rest of the crowd, he wouldn't take it.
'=_=', He gazed at me.
"Please pass this on," I politely requested, feeling that it should have been plainly obvious to him that this was the general idea of passing water back but trying to remain gracious.
His gormless gaze took on a slightly annoyed look, and he didn't budge an inch.
And very suddenly, I lost my patience.
"At-least-pass-the-damned-thing-on," I snarled at him, shoving the cup closer to his face. His face took on a slightly more affronted look, and he slowly and wordlessly took the cup of water from me and passed it behind him.
Thankfully the two of them moved on shortly after. The concert itself was amazing though, with a lot of my favourites played- and I got to see the keyboardist/ main composer Tuomas in the flesh, whom I used to have a bit of a thing for when I first got into Nightwish (I mentally high-fived my past teenage self when he settled on the same side of the stage as where I was facing). Also, for the few annoying sods that there were, the presence of a few nice one made all the difference- we got talking a bit to a guy called Kevin from Devon, who seemed like a genuinely nice dude and we thought looked a bit like Peeta Mellark from the Hunger Games (Kevin, if you ever stumble across this blog, you're mad for going back to work in Devon literally the day after and I hope you got home alright), and there was another girl just in front of us who was quite friendly too.
All in all, I felt it was quite genteel for a metal concert- certainly it was good fun. I'm glad no circle pits or anything happened, despite a handful of idiots' best efforts. Now if only I could get a hold of some infamously illusive tickets to see Muse (which usually sell out in minutes and are subsequently found on eBay for a shocking amount)... it certainly won't be my last band concert, that's for sure.
~Fin~
I queued up outside the Birmingham O2 Academy with my friend Lucia in my black skinny jeans, burgundy biker-style jacket and great big boots just in case anyone would be treading on anyone else's feet (I figured I'd go for the 'crush or be crushed' approach), brimming with anticipation and yes, a little bit of fear too- another friend had warned me about things like walls of death and circle pits (both forms of extreme moshing- look them up on YouTube for an idea of the carnage that can occur), and I was warned to avoid the front and stay towards the back.
So, of course, you can guess where I ended up being chivvied.
I needn't have worried though- although there was the odd bit of pushing and shoving up at front, the crowd was quite diverse in age and nature and, for the most part, surprisingly courteous to each other. At one point a quad of loudmouthed yobs tried to start a wall of death by bodyslamming around, but to my amusement were met with very icy and very British glares all round from long-haired young metalheads to more mature-looking revellers alike. It was a real mix of real people- mostly of student stock, of course, but plenty of people in the next tier of age like myself, and quite a few more seasoned concert goers, too. I even saw an old boy in a wheelchair up in the circle.
However, I happened to have two freaking weird people behind me for a large portion of the concert. The guy, who I shall refer to as Curlybonce for his mop of corkscrew hair, was as dull as a marshmallow spoon, and the girl- possibly his girlfriend- who I shall refer to as Rainbowhead for her admittedly awesome rainbow-striped hair, was, well... anyway, Curleybonce's eyes looked like this: =_= and Rainbowhead's eyes looked like this: O_O, so they were both at very least thoroughly marinated. Throughout the supporting band Pain's performance I was vaguely aware of someone pressing up right against my back and almost in the crook of my neck, but hey, I was more or less in a mosh pit (although people were only really lightly moshing at the best of times), so it didn't really bother me much (and certainly not as much as later on when a big guy was flush against me and there was something not-quite-right digging into my back... again, I chalked that up to a hazard of being in the stalls).
I think it was when the supporting band Pain went offstage that I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Rainbowhead's nose about two inches from mine, her wide eyes staring into my soul. She said to me in hushed tones,
"Excuse me, but you smell absolutely incredible."
Er.
"I do?" My super-friendly defence mechanism kick-started itself and I grinned like a maniac. "Haha, aww, thank you!"
"Yes, you smell amazing." She edged closer and I tried and failed to take a step back, having nowhere to go in the sardine can that was the front of the stalls. "Tell me, what do you use?"
"It's this new oil perfume from Lush- do you know Lush?" I said, feeling more like I was in my element now (being a Lush fan for many years and having worked for them at one point). "It's called Sikkim Girls." I smiled and turned around, thinking I'd done my job and been helpful. I felt the small hand on my shoulder again and turned around, Rainbowhead's face still occupying the same amount of my personal space as it had before.
"Is it Vanillary?"
"Er... no it's... it's Sikkim Girls. It's more of a-"
"Hey guys you really need to check this out, come over and smell her she smells amazing!" Rainbowhead had whipped around to address Curlybonce and a few others apparently from their group, and she whipped back round at me. "Come back here so everyone can smell you!"
Feeling quite like I was quite back out of my element again, I faltered. "I'm really quite happy right here where I am, thank you..."
"Aww, but I want everyone to check your perfume out, come on!"
"Um, no?"
Lucia (keeping in mind this is the same friend who I mentioned a while back got married in June), who had been previously jostled relentlessly by Rainbowhead's erratic 'dancing' and was watching in disbelief, rounded on Rainbowhead and told her to cut it out.
"Oh," Said Rainbowhead in a mock-conspiratory tone to me, "I'd better leave you alone, I don't think your friend- or girlfriend, whichever- likes me."
"Just friend", I laughed, just as Lucia snapped "Her friend, actually."
Rainbowhead shrugged and smiled dreamily. "Friend, girlfriend, who knows?"
"I know, and I'm telling you." Lucia retorted (as I tried not to laugh even harder at my friend's loyal outrage on my behalf and at this girl's obliviousness). Lucia gritted her teeth as Rainbowhead imitated her voice and turned her back to her.
As for Curlybonce, he kept shoving into me and elbowing me in the head for most of the supporting act until I yelled 'Oi' and Lucia poked him and told him to back off (met only with this face: =_= and without a word). Then, later on when marshals were getting us to pass cups of water down to the rest of the crowd, he wouldn't take it.
'=_=', He gazed at me.
"Please pass this on," I politely requested, feeling that it should have been plainly obvious to him that this was the general idea of passing water back but trying to remain gracious.
His gormless gaze took on a slightly annoyed look, and he didn't budge an inch.
And very suddenly, I lost my patience.
"At-least-pass-the-damned-thing-on," I snarled at him, shoving the cup closer to his face. His face took on a slightly more affronted look, and he slowly and wordlessly took the cup of water from me and passed it behind him.
Thankfully the two of them moved on shortly after. The concert itself was amazing though, with a lot of my favourites played- and I got to see the keyboardist/ main composer Tuomas in the flesh, whom I used to have a bit of a thing for when I first got into Nightwish (I mentally high-fived my past teenage self when he settled on the same side of the stage as where I was facing). Also, for the few annoying sods that there were, the presence of a few nice one made all the difference- we got talking a bit to a guy called Kevin from Devon, who seemed like a genuinely nice dude and we thought looked a bit like Peeta Mellark from the Hunger Games (Kevin, if you ever stumble across this blog, you're mad for going back to work in Devon literally the day after and I hope you got home alright), and there was another girl just in front of us who was quite friendly too.
All in all, I felt it was quite genteel for a metal concert- certainly it was good fun. I'm glad no circle pits or anything happened, despite a handful of idiots' best efforts. Now if only I could get a hold of some infamously illusive tickets to see Muse (which usually sell out in minutes and are subsequently found on eBay for a shocking amount)... it certainly won't be my last band concert, that's for sure.
~Fin~
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Serious Business: A Quarter of a Century Old
((I was about to apologise for the more serious tone of this entry- but who am I kidding, I regret nothing!))
This weekend (Saturday to be exact), I turned 25 years old.
On Friday I travelled to Birmingham, the place of my studies, to stay the weekend at my very good friend's house. Lucia's birthday is always a day after mine, and since we were both turning 25 on the Saturday and Sunday one after another, we decided to celebrate this milestone by throwing a Halloween-themed murder mystery dinner party. We spent Friday preparing the base for the cake (check out this entry on my other blog for pics), decorating the dining area in preparation for a spooky game and three-course dinner, and chilling in general.
Lucia and I spent a bit of time joking about turning 25 and how so many people had been teasing us about becoming 'a quarter of a century old', and how overly dramatic it sounded. Lucia, Peter (Lucia's husband and also another uni friend of mine) and I were drinking tea, eating chocolate and generally chilling out late into the evening, when I glanced at the clock.
It was 23:50.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, I got a tremendous sense of Do Not Want.
Nearly twenty-five years of memories flickered through my mind like someone fast-forwarding a tape, and stopped as suddenly as it came on. I inwardly assessed myself as part of my social network rather than just as an individual, which is so much easier because you're only figuring yourself in the equation. Almost all of my friends and certainly my closest ones are married or attached and discussing marriage or Attached (with a capital A to portray the fact that although marriage isn't on the cards, they'll spend their lives together). Some are mentioning the prospect of children in the now increasingly near future. Hell, it even only took my dear old ex at very most three weeks after jumping our three-year relation-ship ((see what I did there?)) to find the love of his life (evident by the perhaps slightly shameless profile pictures on a certain popular social media site he published before I blocked his arse), which was a fair while ago now (long enough, thankfully, to only feel a twinge of annoyance about the whole thing- although it annoys me further that I still feel a little annoyed, which is inherently annoying).
Where was I now, though? In a stable (I hope) and decent job, but still living with my parents and in my soon-to-be (now current) mid-twenties, steadily but far too painfully slowly saving up for my own place, contentedly unattached- but watching those closest to me beginning to show signs of moving in the realm of having Their Own Life, and even Starting Families.
I suddenly realised what's been eating away at me for a while now: a time is coming when I'm going to be facing a lot of stuff on my own. I'm an only child and my parents, although in largely good health, aren't getting any younger, and whilst my friends will always be there for me and vice versa they will be getting on with their own lives, and dynamics will shift very drastically with children in the mix (which, don't get me wrong, I don't consider a bad thing at all- in fact, I'm quite looking forward to being Auntie Tash and I hope I turn out to be a really fun aunt). But what the fun things we have been doing in our youth and what were going to do on Saturday night- dressing up in ridiculous and cool costumes, painting out faces, drinking bright green appletinis and basically acting our shoe sizes- is soon going to become a thing of the past.
And because I'm contentedly unattached but at the root of things, when I think about it, slow to develop affection towards people even on a friendship-type level, there is every chance that I'll become fun and slightly wacky Auntie Tash who bakes a lot of cake and lives with a load of cats.
(('That's not true!' I hear my friends cry, 'You'll find someone very special to you one day.'))
I snapped out of it- this whole train of thought blinked past in about thirty seconds anyway- and mentioned my determination to do the best I could in life and get the most out of it, even if I never did find my partner in crime in life. Sure enough, my loyal friends told me not to worry, that I'd find Him eventually. I think my friends really do believe that, even if I'm genuinely quite a bit less convinced. We chatted and joked some more.
At the back of my mind I worried though, and I thought: 'Is that all that's important to me? Not being alone? Am I that cowardly?'
I glanced up at the clock again. 00:25. Saturday morning.
"I believe it's my birthday, now," I announced.
I felt the weird, slightly unfamiliar feeling of certainty flood through me.
'No.' I silently answered my own question as my friends and I decided if I should open my card and present now, or after sleeping. I'm not afraid of being alone- at least, not in the grand scheme of things. Yes, it's more than a little scary on a selfish level to see those closest to me levelling up in the game that is Life whilst I feel like I'm floundering far behind everyone else in the starting zone. Yes, the responsibility and duty of being an only child is quite scary, too. And yes, to be completely transparent, it is a tad lonely to not have that special someone who totally gets you to share your life with- I'm a human being, not a honey badger ((for some reason, the honey badger was the first solitary animal I could think of... don't ask, I don't know)). But rather than believing myself to be behind everyone, I began to realise in that instant that I'm not seeing everyone ahead of me- I'm just seeing everyone off to the side.
I'm on a different path- not lagging behind on a singular one. And I don't even want that many cats, anyway.
I suddenly felt a lot better.
The next day we ate chocolate for breakfast, had friends round and dressed up in ridiculous and cool costumes, we painted our faces, we drank appletinis and we ate a stupid amount of cake. I laughed so hard I nearly displaced my kidneys in my corseted Morticia outfit. There is Stuff that is going to be heading my way soon enough, a big chunk of that Stuff I can't even begin to try and predict- but for now, I'll just enjoy being young. After all, I'm still only in my mid-twenties.
~Fin~
This weekend (Saturday to be exact), I turned 25 years old.
On Friday I travelled to Birmingham, the place of my studies, to stay the weekend at my very good friend's house. Lucia's birthday is always a day after mine, and since we were both turning 25 on the Saturday and Sunday one after another, we decided to celebrate this milestone by throwing a Halloween-themed murder mystery dinner party. We spent Friday preparing the base for the cake (check out this entry on my other blog for pics), decorating the dining area in preparation for a spooky game and three-course dinner, and chilling in general.
Lucia and I spent a bit of time joking about turning 25 and how so many people had been teasing us about becoming 'a quarter of a century old', and how overly dramatic it sounded. Lucia, Peter (Lucia's husband and also another uni friend of mine) and I were drinking tea, eating chocolate and generally chilling out late into the evening, when I glanced at the clock.
It was 23:50.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, I got a tremendous sense of Do Not Want.
Nearly twenty-five years of memories flickered through my mind like someone fast-forwarding a tape, and stopped as suddenly as it came on. I inwardly assessed myself as part of my social network rather than just as an individual, which is so much easier because you're only figuring yourself in the equation. Almost all of my friends and certainly my closest ones are married or attached and discussing marriage or Attached (with a capital A to portray the fact that although marriage isn't on the cards, they'll spend their lives together). Some are mentioning the prospect of children in the now increasingly near future. Hell, it even only took my dear old ex at very most three weeks after jumping our three-year relation-ship ((see what I did there?)) to find the love of his life (evident by the perhaps slightly shameless profile pictures on a certain popular social media site he published before I blocked his arse), which was a fair while ago now (long enough, thankfully, to only feel a twinge of annoyance about the whole thing- although it annoys me further that I still feel a little annoyed, which is inherently annoying).
Where was I now, though? In a stable (I hope) and decent job, but still living with my parents and in my soon-to-be (now current) mid-twenties, steadily but far too painfully slowly saving up for my own place, contentedly unattached- but watching those closest to me beginning to show signs of moving in the realm of having Their Own Life, and even Starting Families.
I suddenly realised what's been eating away at me for a while now: a time is coming when I'm going to be facing a lot of stuff on my own. I'm an only child and my parents, although in largely good health, aren't getting any younger, and whilst my friends will always be there for me and vice versa they will be getting on with their own lives, and dynamics will shift very drastically with children in the mix (which, don't get me wrong, I don't consider a bad thing at all- in fact, I'm quite looking forward to being Auntie Tash and I hope I turn out to be a really fun aunt). But what the fun things we have been doing in our youth and what were going to do on Saturday night- dressing up in ridiculous and cool costumes, painting out faces, drinking bright green appletinis and basically acting our shoe sizes- is soon going to become a thing of the past.
And because I'm contentedly unattached but at the root of things, when I think about it, slow to develop affection towards people even on a friendship-type level, there is every chance that I'll become fun and slightly wacky Auntie Tash who bakes a lot of cake and lives with a load of cats.
(('That's not true!' I hear my friends cry, 'You'll find someone very special to you one day.'))
I snapped out of it- this whole train of thought blinked past in about thirty seconds anyway- and mentioned my determination to do the best I could in life and get the most out of it, even if I never did find my partner in crime in life. Sure enough, my loyal friends told me not to worry, that I'd find Him eventually. I think my friends really do believe that, even if I'm genuinely quite a bit less convinced. We chatted and joked some more.
At the back of my mind I worried though, and I thought: 'Is that all that's important to me? Not being alone? Am I that cowardly?'
I glanced up at the clock again. 00:25. Saturday morning.
"I believe it's my birthday, now," I announced.
I felt the weird, slightly unfamiliar feeling of certainty flood through me.
'No.' I silently answered my own question as my friends and I decided if I should open my card and present now, or after sleeping. I'm not afraid of being alone- at least, not in the grand scheme of things. Yes, it's more than a little scary on a selfish level to see those closest to me levelling up in the game that is Life whilst I feel like I'm floundering far behind everyone else in the starting zone. Yes, the responsibility and duty of being an only child is quite scary, too. And yes, to be completely transparent, it is a tad lonely to not have that special someone who totally gets you to share your life with- I'm a human being, not a honey badger ((for some reason, the honey badger was the first solitary animal I could think of... don't ask, I don't know)). But rather than believing myself to be behind everyone, I began to realise in that instant that I'm not seeing everyone ahead of me- I'm just seeing everyone off to the side.
I'm on a different path- not lagging behind on a singular one. And I don't even want that many cats, anyway.
I suddenly felt a lot better.
The next day we ate chocolate for breakfast, had friends round and dressed up in ridiculous and cool costumes, we painted our faces, we drank appletinis and we ate a stupid amount of cake. I laughed so hard I nearly displaced my kidneys in my corseted Morticia outfit. There is Stuff that is going to be heading my way soon enough, a big chunk of that Stuff I can't even begin to try and predict- but for now, I'll just enjoy being young. After all, I'm still only in my mid-twenties.
~Fin~
Monday, 2 July 2012
My Weird Massage Experience
So here I was last Friday (three days ago, in fact), face-down on a high table in the beached whale/ sleeping walrus position wearing bugger all but my pants and having a stranger kneading my back like dough and operating my limbs like levers. To her credit, the masseuse did a brilliant job and I really felt a difference by the end of it- it was the journey itself that was particularly... unique.
Last Saturday was the wedding of two very dear friends of mine, the bride to be being my best friend and general partner in mischief (all three of us met at archery club at university, which pretty much sets the scene), and the bride to be, Lucia, was quite keen on the idea of having a full body massage before the wedding: I had to agree it was absolutely the perfect excuse for it. I've never had a massage before- I've never been down with the idea of people getting their mitts on me- but I've always wanted to give it a go. Who doesn't want to be pampered and relaxed? So we met up on Friday having booked a session at a well-respected spa, and we were led to separate rooms.
Lucia later told me, not in these exact words but in the way I picture the scene, that she experienced the sort of massage you see on TV- firm but blissful, with soothing music and the sounds of nature floating in the fragrant air.
Here is what happened in my room.
First the masseuse, thankfully female, instructed me to strip down to my pants and lie face-down on the table between two sheets, and left the room to allow me to sort myself out. Standing in a strange room in nothing but your knickers is a little disconcerting, so I made every effort to be as quick as possible about this business.
Next I advanced to the table with grim determination. It was quite a bit higher than I expected- that is to say, I knew it would be high-ish, but being right next to it made me realise that my complete lack of grace, despite my smaller form, was going to make this next part tricky. So after a few attempts at lobbing myself at the table like a seal flopping heavily against a rock to get out of the sea, I managed to get myself in position and cover up.
The masseuse came back in once she'd established I was the next closest thing to being decent, and got me to put my face into what I can only describe as the facehole in the table, and to arrange my arms down my sides in the beached whale/ sleeping walrus position. She then switched on the stereo to some pleasant panpipe music, and got to work on my back.
It was awkward at first, but it only really took me ten minutes or so to get used to this unusual situation. Which is approximately when the dulcet tones of a young Aled Jones emerged from the stereo.
'We're walking in the air...'
My eyes snapped open in confusion, and I heard the masseuse clear her throat in a rather embarrassed way- I got the feeling that this had happened before. No matter, I thought, it isn't a bad song, just a bit strange with the sun beating down through the window in late June. I waited for the song to end and the panpipes to come back. But they never did.
'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...'
'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'
'Simply having a wonderful Christmas time!'
On and on they went, on this hot summer's day, and I only managed to get through two songs before I was laughing out loud. 'Trust me, it'd be a lot worse without the music' said the masseuse, with a strange mixture of good humour and grimness. I tried to detach myself from the Christmas sountracks, and just concentrate of having my back turned to cotton wool.
Before turning to my legs, the masseuse gave one last almighty two-handed SMUSH to my back, like trying to close a particularly full suitcase, and I felt my face sink further into the facehole. It was fine though, I was still pretty comfortable. I only noticed what had happened when I was asked to flip over.
I blinked, feeling self-concious again. 'Really?' I actually asked out loud, nervous. It was alright though, the masseuse was holding a towel up so I could cover myself up. So I started to roll over.
My body went, but my face stayed where it was.
'Rocking around the Christmas tree...'
I was properly stuck. The masseuse was laughing as I literally had to place both my hands on either side of my head and tug furiously before my face freed itself with an almost cartoon-like 'pop'. I felt my forehead- sure enough there was a huge, deep groove running right across it. Barely containing her laughter, the masseuse assured me it'd go down eventually.
I never really got back to the relaxed state- and in the end the poor masseuse had to stick some cotton wool pads over my eyes because my wild eyes staring blankly at the ceiling must have freaked her out a bit- but eventually it was all done and I was left to my own devices again.
I rolled off the table, now a seal returning to the comfort of the sea, and gratefully put my clothes back on. Luckily I was just doing my last boot when another person burst in on me before hurriedly apologising and dodging back out again. I noticed that I felt like I was weightless- the masseuse really knew her stuff, then.
I wandered back to the seating area, slightly dazed, where I found my good friend in a state of zen.
'I feel like I'm floating', Lucia sighed contentedly. 'How was yours?'
'Er...' I began, as she peered quizically at my forehead.
~Fin~
Last Saturday was the wedding of two very dear friends of mine, the bride to be being my best friend and general partner in mischief (all three of us met at archery club at university, which pretty much sets the scene), and the bride to be, Lucia, was quite keen on the idea of having a full body massage before the wedding: I had to agree it was absolutely the perfect excuse for it. I've never had a massage before- I've never been down with the idea of people getting their mitts on me- but I've always wanted to give it a go. Who doesn't want to be pampered and relaxed? So we met up on Friday having booked a session at a well-respected spa, and we were led to separate rooms.
Lucia later told me, not in these exact words but in the way I picture the scene, that she experienced the sort of massage you see on TV- firm but blissful, with soothing music and the sounds of nature floating in the fragrant air.
Here is what happened in my room.
First the masseuse, thankfully female, instructed me to strip down to my pants and lie face-down on the table between two sheets, and left the room to allow me to sort myself out. Standing in a strange room in nothing but your knickers is a little disconcerting, so I made every effort to be as quick as possible about this business.
Next I advanced to the table with grim determination. It was quite a bit higher than I expected- that is to say, I knew it would be high-ish, but being right next to it made me realise that my complete lack of grace, despite my smaller form, was going to make this next part tricky. So after a few attempts at lobbing myself at the table like a seal flopping heavily against a rock to get out of the sea, I managed to get myself in position and cover up.
The masseuse came back in once she'd established I was the next closest thing to being decent, and got me to put my face into what I can only describe as the facehole in the table, and to arrange my arms down my sides in the beached whale/ sleeping walrus position. She then switched on the stereo to some pleasant panpipe music, and got to work on my back.
It was awkward at first, but it only really took me ten minutes or so to get used to this unusual situation. Which is approximately when the dulcet tones of a young Aled Jones emerged from the stereo.
'We're walking in the air...'
My eyes snapped open in confusion, and I heard the masseuse clear her throat in a rather embarrassed way- I got the feeling that this had happened before. No matter, I thought, it isn't a bad song, just a bit strange with the sun beating down through the window in late June. I waited for the song to end and the panpipes to come back. But they never did.
'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...'
'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'
'Simply having a wonderful Christmas time!'
On and on they went, on this hot summer's day, and I only managed to get through two songs before I was laughing out loud. 'Trust me, it'd be a lot worse without the music' said the masseuse, with a strange mixture of good humour and grimness. I tried to detach myself from the Christmas sountracks, and just concentrate of having my back turned to cotton wool.
Before turning to my legs, the masseuse gave one last almighty two-handed SMUSH to my back, like trying to close a particularly full suitcase, and I felt my face sink further into the facehole. It was fine though, I was still pretty comfortable. I only noticed what had happened when I was asked to flip over.
I blinked, feeling self-concious again. 'Really?' I actually asked out loud, nervous. It was alright though, the masseuse was holding a towel up so I could cover myself up. So I started to roll over.
My body went, but my face stayed where it was.
'Rocking around the Christmas tree...'
I was properly stuck. The masseuse was laughing as I literally had to place both my hands on either side of my head and tug furiously before my face freed itself with an almost cartoon-like 'pop'. I felt my forehead- sure enough there was a huge, deep groove running right across it. Barely containing her laughter, the masseuse assured me it'd go down eventually.
I never really got back to the relaxed state- and in the end the poor masseuse had to stick some cotton wool pads over my eyes because my wild eyes staring blankly at the ceiling must have freaked her out a bit- but eventually it was all done and I was left to my own devices again.
I rolled off the table, now a seal returning to the comfort of the sea, and gratefully put my clothes back on. Luckily I was just doing my last boot when another person burst in on me before hurriedly apologising and dodging back out again. I noticed that I felt like I was weightless- the masseuse really knew her stuff, then.
I wandered back to the seating area, slightly dazed, where I found my good friend in a state of zen.
'I feel like I'm floating', Lucia sighed contentedly. 'How was yours?'
'Er...' I began, as she peered quizically at my forehead.
~Fin~
Saturday, 23 June 2012
Romantically Challenged: Rejector and Rejectee in One Day
I swear, this sort of crazy stuff can only happen to me. This happened only a few days ago.
I've been on jury service for a couple of weeks now (my last day this coming Monday, in fact), and I got asked out by a guy I'd been talking to for while that I'd been sort of hoping that he wouldn't (I liked him well enough, but not in that way, and was dreading having to hurt his feelings). It was difficult trying to be friendly but not too friendly since I'd loathe to be one of these girls that just leads people on. Anyway I felt a bit cruddy because he's a nice guy overall and I admired his courage to ask, and I know well enough the sting of rejection myself- but it'd be crueller to say yes when you already know you have no intention of anything going further, I think.
In any case, this guy's courage gave me the courage to ask after another guy who'd caught my eye, working in a chocolate shop in London a few days earlier (I know I know, I sound terrible- I'm not what this sounds like, honest!) If the guy at court had the guts to ask me, I thought, then I shouldn't let myself down by being a wimp and I should go and ask after chocolate shop guy. Although going around fancying random people I've only seen once before and then asking after them right away isn't something I'm used to, it wouldn't have been the first time I'd expressed my interest in someone to their faces (it was only one time, and I ended up with them for three years, so it was worth something at least!) So that's where I went when court was adjourned that day.
A bit of background: I had gone to this chocolate shop with one of my best friends the day before and noticed this guy when he brought out some samples for us to try. I mortified myself by trying to open conversation by asking him 'so... are you much of a chocolate guy then?' (What a question to ask someone who works in a chocolate shop...) I decided I liked him even more when he didn't poke fun at me for that.
To continue the story, I met up with my friend/ partner in crime in town first (who happened to be visiting from Birmingham for a few days and who's sharp eyes had noticed my interest in this guy when we'd visited the shop together the day before), along with another of her friends she was meeting up with, and they came with me for moral support. I was a little glad that the guy wasn't actually there so I could just ask one of his colleagues, but I was about to be even more glad of his absence.
After walking around looking at chocolate and plucking up as much courage as possible, and telling myself I wouldn't be struck down dead on the spot for asking, I finally went to the counter and asked, bashfully, if she knew the tall guy with blue eyes who was working there the other day, because I thought I quite liked the look of him (or something silly like that- I was having a hard enough time getting the words out from sheer embarrassment to focus on what I was actually saying). The lady grinned playfully.
'Aah,' she said, 'are we on the pull, then?'
I think I must have gone beetroot red by then and laughed near hysterically whilst saying something like, 'I guess, when you put it that way, I sort of am!?' It had never really occurred to me to think about it like that, and although I'm no pure shrinking violet and and pretty much unshockable, all I knew was I was hoping to get to know someone better (through talking!!) and was suddenly getting a concept that I hadn't bargained for. I think it was mainly the extreme sheepishness I was feeling about the whole thing that made me less than my usual eloquent self.
'Let's see...' The lady went into the little staff room thing and looked up who I might have been talking about on the staff rota. She came back and sighed, smiling sympathetically.
'He's got a girlfriend.'
Bugger.
We chatted a little and and I did buy some stuff (cocoa nibs for making truffles- expect a recipe to go up on my other blog Tashcakes! soon). I told the lady how glad I was he wasn't there in the end to endure this awful embarrassing moment- because I quite like that chocolate shop, and I'd like to visit it again without dreading if he'd be there or not.
'Well I'll let you know if he ever becomes available', the lady laughed. 'And don't worry!' She winked at me. 'I won't tell him!'
Of course she will, it's bloody hilarious- I don't mind though, I would too if I were her! At least he probably won't rememeber me, so I can continue to buy chocolate there in peace.
And that's the story of how I got asked out and declined the offer, and a few hours later got indirectly shot down upon plucking up the courage to ask after someone else.
Romantically challenged!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Read out this entry for another story about that same chocolate shop.
I've been on jury service for a couple of weeks now (my last day this coming Monday, in fact), and I got asked out by a guy I'd been talking to for while that I'd been sort of hoping that he wouldn't (I liked him well enough, but not in that way, and was dreading having to hurt his feelings). It was difficult trying to be friendly but not too friendly since I'd loathe to be one of these girls that just leads people on. Anyway I felt a bit cruddy because he's a nice guy overall and I admired his courage to ask, and I know well enough the sting of rejection myself- but it'd be crueller to say yes when you already know you have no intention of anything going further, I think.
In any case, this guy's courage gave me the courage to ask after another guy who'd caught my eye, working in a chocolate shop in London a few days earlier (I know I know, I sound terrible- I'm not what this sounds like, honest!) If the guy at court had the guts to ask me, I thought, then I shouldn't let myself down by being a wimp and I should go and ask after chocolate shop guy. Although going around fancying random people I've only seen once before and then asking after them right away isn't something I'm used to, it wouldn't have been the first time I'd expressed my interest in someone to their faces (it was only one time, and I ended up with them for three years, so it was worth something at least!) So that's where I went when court was adjourned that day.
A bit of background: I had gone to this chocolate shop with one of my best friends the day before and noticed this guy when he brought out some samples for us to try. I mortified myself by trying to open conversation by asking him 'so... are you much of a chocolate guy then?' (What a question to ask someone who works in a chocolate shop...) I decided I liked him even more when he didn't poke fun at me for that.
To continue the story, I met up with my friend/ partner in crime in town first (who happened to be visiting from Birmingham for a few days and who's sharp eyes had noticed my interest in this guy when we'd visited the shop together the day before), along with another of her friends she was meeting up with, and they came with me for moral support. I was a little glad that the guy wasn't actually there so I could just ask one of his colleagues, but I was about to be even more glad of his absence.
After walking around looking at chocolate and plucking up as much courage as possible, and telling myself I wouldn't be struck down dead on the spot for asking, I finally went to the counter and asked, bashfully, if she knew the tall guy with blue eyes who was working there the other day, because I thought I quite liked the look of him (or something silly like that- I was having a hard enough time getting the words out from sheer embarrassment to focus on what I was actually saying). The lady grinned playfully.
'Aah,' she said, 'are we on the pull, then?'
I think I must have gone beetroot red by then and laughed near hysterically whilst saying something like, 'I guess, when you put it that way, I sort of am!?' It had never really occurred to me to think about it like that, and although I'm no pure shrinking violet and and pretty much unshockable, all I knew was I was hoping to get to know someone better (through talking!!) and was suddenly getting a concept that I hadn't bargained for. I think it was mainly the extreme sheepishness I was feeling about the whole thing that made me less than my usual eloquent self.
'Let's see...' The lady went into the little staff room thing and looked up who I might have been talking about on the staff rota. She came back and sighed, smiling sympathetically.
'He's got a girlfriend.'
Bugger.
We chatted a little and and I did buy some stuff (cocoa nibs for making truffles- expect a recipe to go up on my other blog Tashcakes! soon). I told the lady how glad I was he wasn't there in the end to endure this awful embarrassing moment- because I quite like that chocolate shop, and I'd like to visit it again without dreading if he'd be there or not.
'Well I'll let you know if he ever becomes available', the lady laughed. 'And don't worry!' She winked at me. 'I won't tell him!'
Of course she will, it's bloody hilarious- I don't mind though, I would too if I were her! At least he probably won't rememeber me, so I can continue to buy chocolate there in peace.
And that's the story of how I got asked out and declined the offer, and a few hours later got indirectly shot down upon plucking up the courage to ask after someone else.
Romantically challenged!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Read out this entry for another story about that same chocolate shop.
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