31 December - Indoors

And so it is that we're staying in, and so are all our friends and it kind of feels like the end of the road. Just a few years away from what my parents are doing (dining at friends house, a dozen people or so, they probably play bingo waiting for midnight or sing or... I don't know...)

We're so tired we don't even want to open champagne... Just some wine. We watch The Fog of War, an old award winning docu on Robert Macnamara and the Vietnam war. Toph is doing is research. I'm vietnamed out as I am long term 'fan' of the war but he's got half a dozen book on it I never read so... He falls asleep half way through. I wake him up. Docu is over and well, Jools Holland is on TV. I think life has gone the wrong way if this is what I'm doing... watching him count down the fake midnight (he only trips up once on 'this year/next year'. And there's Kylie looking very fat in her marylin dress. So for a while I just consider that, cancer is no good if you remit. (ok, ok... joke). And then we have a lovely session on the floor and all is good again. Only way to see out a year and start a new one is to ... come alive. Ahem.

30 December - Party sum up

There have been precious few this year or I've forgotten them (should I re-read my blog? Honestly, can't remember much, perhaps not extravagant or amazing... ?.

I'd like to know for example if the people who are photographed in Tatler or Harpers etc having a wild time in fully catered/decked out venues etc are really having that much fun or if it's just a matter of smiling when the photo is taken and so it looks like collectively it was incredible. I mean, if you look at photos of my work do, you'd think the same. It was lavish enough and had a theme (Bond.... not so cutting edge heh?) and there were people sucking vodka shots our of some phallic ice sculpture (I'm never drunk enough to be in the pictures that's for sure) and there was a band and there was a karaoke room and there were hundreds of well dressed people but was it fun? No... The only fun I had was trying to put in a word for two colleagues who like each other but both have partners. Yes, my mischief is vicarious these days. And no they didn't and before the year is over he's spent £4k at Tiffany and bought the official g/friend a ring. Anyway.. yes, I was in a taxi by 11pm and that says it all. Can it really all be so boring?

Then there was the house party where champagne was flowing, every one had complied with the Xmas theme and arrived beautifully togged as santas helpers, reindeers, santas, santas wives etc etc. but... the host had over-invited the females (he's single) and the females usually bring a friend so there really were many and that meant that all these women realised that there simply weren't enough boys there to go round and instead of making a move on the charming host - too much competition after all - they all left in droves before midnight - in order to hurry up to other parties perhaps, time was running out on finding a lovely man for the holidays and suddenly after midnight there were only a few of us left. Three or four couples and one of them had met on the Guardian dating pages and the lady looked like she was not that committed but still looking and a couple of singles including the host and a not clear about his status friend who's semi split up but probably going back to the girlfriend as he's failing to draw any new ones despite the large amount on offer at this party ... this is one of my longest sentences ever, am quite proud of it so will leave it here as is.

Sooooo... it was at this point in the evening that I sat down next to a tall bloke a decade younger than myself at least and I'd not noticed him before at all and I took my reindeer horns off and first put them on his head and then took them off and started stroking them. He said 'Oh please don't do that...' in the manner of a man about to start a little tumescening.. and so of course I did and found it took 20 seconds to go back to old flirting habits. God I miss them. I'm so good at them. I even flirt with girls all the time. He had the softest grey cashmere jumper on and just touching it gave me the same er.. tumescence. Of course I felt very guilty about my beloved dancing a few feet away from me. He did clock the situation but is far too well mannered to stom over and make a scene. Tall bloke noticed Toph noticing us cosy on the sofa, so I had to claim ownership of Toph. So tall bloke said he also had a girlfriend. Ah well, that settles it then. We let out a sigh that left no doubt as to what we were thinking. But no, you can't just do these things. By this point I knew where he works and well, I've left it well alone and it's been at least ten days. Wonder if he's thinking about me? Wonder if there was a way to just er.. be exhonerated for a night, for some good old fashioned NSA. But there isn't is there?

So, there was also another party well into expensive suburb land (Wimbledon) . I ate a lot as I find those very boring. Either you know these people and see them regularly or they're just some guy who your BF worked with or went to uni with and really their life has nothing in common with yours what with their kids serving the canapes and the wife (and husband) looking like your parents now. But he is writing a very interesting book based on some letters he discovered by a lover of M. Flaubert (too long a story to tell you but it's all for real and I must re-read Mme Bovary. I loved it at some point and I was just 18 then so god knows what I'll make of it now).
Well, I don't remember a single name from this party and I hope I don't have to go next year. Surely I must be able to meet even some loathsome person like Liz Hurley and at least to some decent location? Oh but that contradicts what I said at the top of this post. Ok forget it. No more parties for me. It's either boring or .. potential trouble. No half ways....

29 December - Must be nicer

This past week it appears I've been ruder than usual to various people. Usually it's just the ones I work with and what's the worst that can happen? Goodbye bonus? Well, I'd rather keep my image up and keep trainig for some future career where I can be a total harpy. But seriously....
I lost it with a friend who let me down for dinner an hour before a reservation was due at the Wolsley. Well, if it's taken a month to get a table and we are only five, then it means we've been carefully selected for our possible contributions to a great evening and that other possible diners have not been deemed worthy. Therefore, to cancel an hour before to stay at home and have pizza with some relatives is just .. not on. But I do it carefully, it's not worth losing a good friend over these things.
I lost it in a very minor way with the book club possee who were happy to drink for however long it took for one last person to turn up, and then start discussing the book. I stood firm, said we better start as I had to go at ten pm. No, no, no, once there's too much wine and fags, who cares about the book and I have no intention to make these couple of hours once a month turn into a whole evening. Don't have time. Very uncharitable of me when the house we met at was all lovely and decked out in Xmas cheer.
Then I lost it, in a snappy way, the the on/off girlfriend of a friend who was hoping I could interpret some behaviour for her. Well I did, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear. It was all done by text which makes it worse. I sort of wanted to say which part of N and O don't you understand but it's true that he's been a master of fogging the issue. Except that from my loftier, much older perspective, it was very clear she should stop wasting time waiting for some fairytale ending.
So there you have it. I'm not nice.

28 December - Poker revelations

Boy I love the net. I think it's one of my overused phrases but it's true. So, am here at work, minding my own business, when poker enthusiast colleague comes to tell me of a website where 'if you know which pokerwebsite your boyfriend uses, and what's his username, you can check when he plays/how often, how much, earnings and losses and so on'.
'You're having me on!' 'No, it's true, do you know his details?' 'Yes of course I do, have sat on his knee many a time when he's played and explained whey he was doing well/about to win etc, and then left him to it only to ask in the morning if he'd won and er... no, some giant bad luck had struck and dealt him a run of bad cards etc etc'.

And so it is... it's true, you can do it. Ask me how if you have a gambler in the family. Not only does the site give you all of the above but it helpfully also supplies the information in graph form, pie charts and all manners of scientific, incontrovertible evidence of gambling activity. I'm sure he doesn't know how much he's lost over the months. Yes, notice the use of verb. There's no winnings. Or rather, they never match the losses. And they're enough to keep me in designer handbags, not that I want any.

However, only a couple of days ago did he volunteer that he'll not play in 2008. Oh really??? So for now, have printed the body of evidence, stored in a drawer and will make myself not check again until the end of Feb (I'd like to have a nice Valentine thank you very much) but I won't be able to hold myself back from checking at some point and woe betide he who breaks one of his promises to me....

27 December - Sales & Country life

tbc

22 december - Milan & Winter

Not one of my favourite cities at all. It's just ... small and boring. And this time it was also very cold. Only I was prepared but someone else who came with me was freezing his little ass off. Well, he did have cashmere socks ... in his suitcase but didn't bother to put them on. Or layer his woollens. You know, once in Rome do as the Romans do and the Milanese are the main consumers of designer puffa coats, hats, merino and cashmere wool and lovely but sturdy winter shoes.

The reason for visiting was to go somewhere else but spend some time with a good friend, my beloved D. who no longer looks like the young stud he was when we met and he was 25 (he's going very prematurely but totally distinguished grey at the temples and has loaded up a stone to his tall frame) but he's still mr gentleman and adorable. His g/friend thinks the same as she tells me the story of the first time he walked into her office (she's a property lawyer and he's an estate agent) and she elbowed a colleague out of the way to get him and his contracts). Sweet.

We have nice dinners, we go to many lovely bars, we don't see the inside of a club because we're too tired, even the not thirty year olds yet, we don't buy anything as it's all mega full on price still and we see a pretty good exhibition of David Lachapelle's photos. We visit some top of the range shops and watch as the local equivalent of wags and footballers agents pour out of giant 4 x 4s and swan in wearing the usual gigantic sunglasses and permatans the world over. Truly Milan has nothing to offer except for some performances in that bijoux opera house of theirs, but we have no interest in the production featured that evening.

We sleep in D.s apartment which is smaller than expected (all the money goes on the top of the range Merc) and I let memory stray back to D. and his ...ways. But I hate Milan.

20 December - Cuban Ballerina & Mahiki

I’m sure it would be different if I were AA Gill, but to be fair to the Wolsley, I eat there 2 or 3 times a year so they don’t have to bend backwards to please me. They say they cannot do a table for 7, their maximum is 6, and that’s what I booked a month ago but now the composition of my party has changed. We’re either 5 or 7. Darn, so we say to the late duo addition that we can’t have them and they make plans accordingly. Toph and J are not bothered as S. was going to bring his Cuban ballerina girlfriend along (whom we’ve never met) and we’re not expecting much from a dancer.

When we eventually meet her, the boys are entranced. What had not been made clear to us was that she’s not a Cuban girl who dances and who he may have met in a bar (yes shame on us/me for my patronising attitude and yes I now that in Cuba they have excellent educations) but she is in fact a principal with the Cuban Ballet, you now, the one funded by …… er, that woman, and the one where V. has been dancing with Carlos Acosta, here at Sadlers Wells a few months ago. Darn I knew I should have gone…. The proud S gets us to watch some films of her dancing Swan Lake or Giselle and doing extraordinary things with the 32 fouettes and of course we’re now sorry they’re not coming for dinner. She’s more interesting than me that’s for sure, daughter of an ambassador and so on, constantly dealing with dance defections and not really getting paid a western salary for her commitment.

So it’s infuriating when just outside the house, I get a text from D. who is crying off the evening cause she’s at home ordering pizza with her sons. I have a bad exchange on the phone with her (though I’ll have to forgive her of course) and our little party of 4 (the fourth is gay M.) still has a nice conversation and then we go to Mahiki just because we’ve never been and we need to see what all the tacky fuss is all about. More of that later.

The moment we sit down at the Wolsley Toph tells us that 5 mins before we’d arrived at S.'s house (Toph was already there and Cuban ballerina was out getting chocolate or something) S. had told him he’s expecting a child from an editor in NY (where he lives) who he’s had a one off with. Well, I don’t believe in one offs but if that’s what he says… But ballerina doesn’t know yet. It suddenly seems awful to know all that display of love and affection and mutual admiration is parallel to ... this. (for all I know she may have a scene with one of her co stars so you know, I don’t know her) but uh ho… All I can say is that S. is sort of a drama king and he’s upper class so perhaps these things are easily accepted in his milieu? ‘Hi Honey, you know how much I love you??? But am having a kid with someone else, would that be ok?’ Call me old fashioned.

But back to Mahiki. They let us in probably because it’s early and there isn’t much business over the holidays, after all, all the little toffs must be off to Barbados or Mustique with their parents. And Wills and Henry in Scotland perhaps. The boys are pretending they’re only coming in because I insist but two hours later I have to force them to leave. The music is as shite as predicted (think wedding with birthday party) and the people are frankly disappointing – maybe they’ve also been let in because it’s quiet, b'day groups young asians, eurotrash or lookalikes, generally young, a few couples, skanky girls – and that includes several working girls (thais? korans?) who are very much trying to get some business and don't spot that M. is the gayest man in the village. But still it’s fun for a short time. So, been there, done that and you don’t need to be tempted. And Ps the Wolsley was disappointing this time, the food seemed very unispired, or maybe we should have drunk more expensive wine.

18 December - Social Lottery & Friends

It's that time of the year when we all frantically try to catch up with people we haven't yet managed to see 'before xmas'. In my case, as will be away first 3 weeks in January, there's an added element of 'but I won't see you for ages'. But it all feels a bit forced, and as I meet one friend for coffee/dinner, am thinking 'Shit, have to still fit in so and so but how many dinners out can I have in one weeks considering that I can't do it the model way ie. poking at food on a plate, if I order it, I eat it and I don't order salads, no, I order regular food and that's fattening. Anyway, on the phone to kooky venitian friend S., she tells me she's having the same problem and this year she's had the idea of writing all the friends' names on pieces of paper and drawing a few names out of a hat in order to get to decide which friends to see PROPERLY, ie giving undivided attention. She says she's going to tell the others that sorry, this year it's not their turn.
I think it's a fantastic idea but what if she draws other names next year and this time those people (having been offended this year) will say 'Sorry no, doesn't work like that, we don't want to see you now nyeah nyeah nyeah'. She hadn't thought about this but says she's still going ahead with the new protocol.

I tell her she should consider it for her paramours as she currently has three: her bank manager in Venice, a lawyer in Rome and a musician in Frankfurt. As she's a creative herself, my advice is to, for once, ditch the musician and try something different or at least... loaded with cash. She says she will, after all she's not kissed any of them yet. She also says she's made a rule and will try to see each at least 3 times first, before progressing to kissing stage. Who'd have thought we'd go back to these kind of mores? Me, personally, I'd like the return of the marking of the dancing card.

14 december - Goods from abroad

For all my pontificating about this and that re. the other side of the world... I am most annoyed at having bought some rather lovely pink suede and fur bootees for a friend's 18 month old baby in Graham & Greene and then noticing that they are 'Made in Vietnam'.

I plan to give them to mother of child after we return from Vietnam simply because child will be 2 years old then (I plan, I buy in advance, am good that way). But this means that mother of child will assume I actually purchased said bootees in Vietnam for a paltry little sum when in fact being bought in fancy shop in London they are not that cheap. I still haven't got out of this habit of wanting recipients to actually be able to price reasonably correctly the gifts I give. That's just really bad isn't it????

13 December - Backpacker vs luxury

Packing for Vietnam (yes, as previously detailed, the Taylor methond involves placing a large bag, one of those ikea ones will do, in the middle of the room and progressively filling it up with stuff that may be needed on holiday, then eliminating stuff prior to decanting all into the actual travelling bag), I notice I’ve chosen items of clothing as if I was travelling on a budget. I have accumulated mostly my ‘run down’ travel clothes/shoes that I'm happy to then leave behind should I find better items to buy/bring home.

This is bizarre. I am not going on a budget, in fact, it's top end though I may just avoid some super duper five star suggestion of hedge fund girlfriend who was there a year ago. Am not that comfortable five starring it at the equivalent cost for one night of the local's one month wage (when they're earning one that is). It's like my default brain programming is 'down with the poor'. Of course my sort of backpacker wardrobe is hardly typical as it includes high heels and chi chi dresses but still they are not the stuff of five star hotels. I wonder if, lottery was won or marriage to Mr Google was forthcoming, how long it would take for me to get out of this mode. I mean, how many years into massive wealth, would I just accept that I have cash to spend.

The good news is that Toph is reading Naomi Klein' disaster capitalism book, 'Shock Doctrine' (one of my inspired gifts for his birthday of course) and he’s decided all of his own accord not to stay in chain-owned hotels. He says he doesn't see why we should give our money to something that's ultimatly owned by a Hilton who has a seat on the Haliburton Board and so on and is a friend of Robert MacNamara (ok, he is dead I think but as far back as '65 he knew the war in Vietnam was as unjustified as the one in Iraq and still he went ahead and it raged for another ten yeas as we all know). Anyway, I smile and I simply tell him 'Welcome to my world'. Didn't have too many doubts as to his moral fibre but this is just cherry on cake material.

12 December - Sorry but normal service will resumed

at the end of the month, in case anyone misses my thinking aloud.. some of you must do....
xxxx

11 December - Whinge

A girl should not have to waste sooooo much time handling a day job. Truly, and utterly, this past week has flown with work stuff leaving me drained. Hence, the scarcity of news. But there have been some events. I'll relate them next week when I'll be in full 'who gives a fuck about work' mode and busy plotting my Vietnam itinerary whilst studiously avoiding the shops. Oxfam Gifts. Been giving people goats and toilets and bags of seeds, and school desks and beekeeping equipment for years. Trust me... Once you get the recipients used to this is what we get from that sanctimonious charidee obsessed friend of ours and there are no nicely wrapped actual gifts... well, by year 2 they forgive you and accept the gift that makes someone else's life a bit easier than ours in the western world.
xxx

1 December - Scents & self denial

This would be the third or maybe second year I avoid telling anyone what my favourite perfume is. I don’t want to buy it for myself and I don’t want to be given it. To begin with it’s because it’s a line of perfumes that I discovered, rather than just one and out of the 15 or so on offer, I like at least 5 and at £50 odd a bottle, it would be an extravagance to purchase them all or ask for them, though it could be an idea to collect them. Ok I can come down to 2 I like the most if pressed. They’re male fragrances as I never was one for light and flowery, preferring heady spices that would make most of you sickly I guess.

But in the end, it’s clear that I like sneaking into Harrods (the first to have it) and/or Liberty, House of Fraser (not checked Selfridges but it’s probably there too) and douse my scarves or coats (I don’t do perfume on my person) in a quick spraying frenzy and carry on smelling the scent as I go along my daily business and bury my face in collars cuffs. Not sure I get high, but because I mix the scents, they take on a life of their own and nobody would ever guess what I’m wearing. Occasionally somebody says ‘That’s a bit strong!’ and I reply I was some harem woman in a previous life and I like to be lost in my olfactory cloud.

So yes, the psychological explanation is that I fear that if I had all my perfumes, they’d be devalued as most things are when you get what you covet. Though I have yet to try those counters where you get your own mixed. I don’t dare go near them.. what if they concot something I’ll love? I’ll have to buy it and then.. I won’t want it anymore.