Well, I have a reader! Didn't know until a dear friend told me about reading this. Not sure how to deal with that, as a blog is kid of like a diary, and it is more easy to put personal things in there if you think no-body will read it. Not at least until after you are dead and buried. Truth be told, I had forgotten that it was even here, and it was her reminding me that prompted me to have another go. So thank you my dear!
So where am I now?
Johannesburg. Have been here for 3 months, and suffered 1 mosquito bite during the whole trip. I consider that a victory. As it happens, I am heading back to UK tomorrow for a month. That will be nice - seeing the family, meeting up with friends, drinking decent beer in proper pubs and walking the dog. Found a couple of places that serve draft Guinness here, but apart from that there is only fizzy lager shite.
And I don't really know anybody here. Mustafa doesn't go out of an evening, so I've nobody to go exploring with. I've been living at his house over the past 3 months, whilst we decide where I'll be better off living. Choices are a cottage in the grounds of another house he owns, or a homestead farmhouse about 15 K south of the city.
Both have plus and minus points... The cottage is on a lovely, very smart estate which has proper security and even though quiet, is only 400 metres from the centre of the suburb. There are clubs, bars, restaurants and basically plenty of entertainment places which can be walked to. There are 4 staff in the quarters of the house. The house itself is very large: pool, tennis court, and set on a lovely large piece of land in one of the best suburbs of Jo'Burg. All in all very nice.
Thing is, the main house is in need of renovation, and Mustafa has not decided whether to renovate or redevelop. If he redevelops he will build at least 10 houses on the plot, or maybe an apartment complex. Until then, there is a feeling of Miss Havisham's about the place, with the sword of Damocles thrown in for good measure.
The homestead is on a little hillock overlooking the road, with drive up to it. Although the road is close, it still feels remote. It has a lemon tree with the sweetest lemons I have ever tasted. The pool needs renovating, but it is nice. It is on the edge of a farming 'village' area, and there are actually a few pubs around. Almost like an African version of home. However I'm not so comfortable with the idea of going out at night. It is a lot more remote, and security must be considered.
More to follow - it is late now and I need sleep.
Tuesday 27 November 2012
Friday 6 April 2012
The password is twice
Where to go from here?
Believe it or not, I am sitting back in my old room in Lviv, wide awake at silly o'clock, writing this. Last update was January... really don't know where to begin, but will try:
My Great Uncle died in February (see entry passim). Funeral was a lovely family get together. We have cleared a lot of stuff from his house, and will sell it soon. Guess I could have taken it and moved in, but it is not really in a place I would wish to be. Desirable in its own manner, but a bit of a suburban shoe box for my liking. Will sell soon enough.
My time in UK was punctuated with walking the dog and cat, visiting friends and drinking in the local pubs. Difficult to relate to the locals (Powlo now knows exactly why) and keen to move on, far and fast.
Here comes Mustafa... and old friend of mine, now owning a stud farm in South Africa. Very nice. He suggested I popped over and offered me some work in Lagos, Nigeria. House, car, basic + bonus etc. After discussion with my friend in Milan it was stopped. She (by the way) went to Paris for Alexander McQueen, and we kept in regular and affectionate contact.
I spent a lot of time with my goldsmith friend as well, helping her out whilst she had no wheels, and think I played a part in keeping her sane. I know she misses me! An ex appeared on the scene again. I thought I was safe as she has a new, extremely wealthy boyfriend. However, she made it perfectly clear that she would drop him RIGHT NOW for me. Sod that. She may be good-looking (and, let's be honest, was great in the sack), but she was a fucking nightmare and I am so well out of that. I am not going back into that situation ever. Game over.
Did meet one interesting girl in UK however. 20 years younger than me, but she really had something about her. We got on, and still do! We met up a few times and she even obliquely suggested we could become 'fuck buddies', but I had to be honest with her and tell her that there was a girl I am seriously into. So nothing came of that. We still chat and meet to eat though. She has a lot of class.
So what the fuck am I doing in Ukraine again? Well...Ukraine has just held its Fashion Week in Kiev, and a certain girl I know was rather involved in that. She suggested I went over as it would be nice for us to meet up. I jumped at the chance, having missed her so much it hurt. The goldsmith arranged a couple of presents, setting one 'giraffe' ring with 2 black diamonds for me. A lovely piece of work. She dropped me off at Luton (after an evening guesting on George Sassoon's daughter's radio show), and I flew over.
We got an apartment in Kiev and had a wonderful time. She really looked after me, and was the best company I could ever wish for. She loved the ring and things. Then she had to move on with a UN junket, and I came to Lviv to relax in the apartment and wait for her. The apartment owner was driving over, so I knew I could score a lift back at some stage. I managed to get him to give a lift to Powlo, another friend who used to work in my pub kitchen. He is a good friend to me (even though I did sack him) and I knew it would do him good. They arrived and I have been showing him around the city. He now realises that the anecdotes I come out with are not all bullshit; strange things really do happen. He met her too, and understands why I love her so much.
When Powlo worked in my kitchen, he was very influenced by my chef and another kitchen worker, both of whom truly detested me. They were difficult to get rid of, and I did nearly resort to reaching into my old life to find ways of dealing with them. They really were that bad, and had no idea of who they were dealing with. On arrival, he told me that one of them had warned him against coming here as I would murder him or suchlike. When he went on his facebook, to say he was having a great time, the fuckwit then started to publish that I HAD killed Powlo, and hi-jacked his account. Amusingly, as I had blocked him, he could not read my responses to his comments, but everyone else could see the dialogue in its entirety. He was so bothered that my friend was happy he 'de-friended' him, proving what a deluded asshole he is. This week we also learned that my ex-chef has just had a nervous breakdown. Bastard deserved it. He'd have had a lot worse if I wasn't so much calmer nowadays. These small-town idiots have no idea of how close they got to rattling a real monster. However, maybe karma plays its part in the end. I like to think so.
So what next? We will drive back to UK next week, and I will spend some time with my parents. She will go back to Milan, sort some stuff out and then Paris. We expect to meet there. If Mustafa comes through with his promises, he will fly me (and her if she wishes) to South Africa where we will plan a business trip to Bangkok. She will come too, as she has a most excellent plan for both of our futures, and the trip to Bangkok will play an important part of that. I hope so. I really want to be with her. I am completely hers, hook, line and sinker. I always was. I have told her this and she seemed very moved by it, but what do I know? Just because I want somebody, it doesn't mean that they feel the same way, and I am still not sure. Powlo is convinced (and amazed!) that she truly loves me, but I am not too sure, partially from my own insecurity wondering how somebody so beautiful and special could possibly see anything in me. Maybe I undervalue myself. 3 girls here commented that they wanted to marry me within the last 10 days, and I have had enough propositions from ex-girlfriends to convince me that there is at least 1 thing that I do right. But is it arrogant to feel special? Fuck it; I'll just do as I am told. I will do anything to be with her, whether she truly wants me or not. And I honestly cannot see that situation changing for the rest of my life. I know that in my mind I've met the one, I can only hope and pray she feels the same way.
Believe it or not, I am sitting back in my old room in Lviv, wide awake at silly o'clock, writing this. Last update was January... really don't know where to begin, but will try:
My Great Uncle died in February (see entry passim). Funeral was a lovely family get together. We have cleared a lot of stuff from his house, and will sell it soon. Guess I could have taken it and moved in, but it is not really in a place I would wish to be. Desirable in its own manner, but a bit of a suburban shoe box for my liking. Will sell soon enough.
My time in UK was punctuated with walking the dog and cat, visiting friends and drinking in the local pubs. Difficult to relate to the locals (Powlo now knows exactly why) and keen to move on, far and fast.
Here comes Mustafa... and old friend of mine, now owning a stud farm in South Africa. Very nice. He suggested I popped over and offered me some work in Lagos, Nigeria. House, car, basic + bonus etc. After discussion with my friend in Milan it was stopped. She (by the way) went to Paris for Alexander McQueen, and we kept in regular and affectionate contact.
I spent a lot of time with my goldsmith friend as well, helping her out whilst she had no wheels, and think I played a part in keeping her sane. I know she misses me! An ex appeared on the scene again. I thought I was safe as she has a new, extremely wealthy boyfriend. However, she made it perfectly clear that she would drop him RIGHT NOW for me. Sod that. She may be good-looking (and, let's be honest, was great in the sack), but she was a fucking nightmare and I am so well out of that. I am not going back into that situation ever. Game over.
Did meet one interesting girl in UK however. 20 years younger than me, but she really had something about her. We got on, and still do! We met up a few times and she even obliquely suggested we could become 'fuck buddies', but I had to be honest with her and tell her that there was a girl I am seriously into. So nothing came of that. We still chat and meet to eat though. She has a lot of class.
So what the fuck am I doing in Ukraine again? Well...Ukraine has just held its Fashion Week in Kiev, and a certain girl I know was rather involved in that. She suggested I went over as it would be nice for us to meet up. I jumped at the chance, having missed her so much it hurt. The goldsmith arranged a couple of presents, setting one 'giraffe' ring with 2 black diamonds for me. A lovely piece of work. She dropped me off at Luton (after an evening guesting on George Sassoon's daughter's radio show), and I flew over.
 |
| Kendall Sassoon on the radio |
 |
| A brace of supermodels |
We got an apartment in Kiev and had a wonderful time. She really looked after me, and was the best company I could ever wish for. She loved the ring and things. Then she had to move on with a UN junket, and I came to Lviv to relax in the apartment and wait for her. The apartment owner was driving over, so I knew I could score a lift back at some stage. I managed to get him to give a lift to Powlo, another friend who used to work in my pub kitchen. He is a good friend to me (even though I did sack him) and I knew it would do him good. They arrived and I have been showing him around the city. He now realises that the anecdotes I come out with are not all bullshit; strange things really do happen. He met her too, and understands why I love her so much.
 |
| Kiev |
So what next? We will drive back to UK next week, and I will spend some time with my parents. She will go back to Milan, sort some stuff out and then Paris. We expect to meet there. If Mustafa comes through with his promises, he will fly me (and her if she wishes) to South Africa where we will plan a business trip to Bangkok. She will come too, as she has a most excellent plan for both of our futures, and the trip to Bangkok will play an important part of that. I hope so. I really want to be with her. I am completely hers, hook, line and sinker. I always was. I have told her this and she seemed very moved by it, but what do I know? Just because I want somebody, it doesn't mean that they feel the same way, and I am still not sure. Powlo is convinced (and amazed!) that she truly loves me, but I am not too sure, partially from my own insecurity wondering how somebody so beautiful and special could possibly see anything in me. Maybe I undervalue myself. 3 girls here commented that they wanted to marry me within the last 10 days, and I have had enough propositions from ex-girlfriends to convince me that there is at least 1 thing that I do right. But is it arrogant to feel special? Fuck it; I'll just do as I am told. I will do anything to be with her, whether she truly wants me or not. And I honestly cannot see that situation changing for the rest of my life. I know that in my mind I've met the one, I can only hope and pray she feels the same way.
Sunday 8 January 2012
HNY
Well New Year was entertaining; went to my old pub, and accepted the challenge of a stint behind the bar for old times' sake. All the other chaps behind the bar had taken their shirts off, so I had to join in.
Fortunately, at 44 I was still slimmer than most of the young 20-something-year-old bucks, and have a decent tan to boot. Still went home alone though. T'was a great late evening, and it was fun to pull a few pints and engage in banter with the old customers, without having to stress in any way about how the pub was running.
The Boxing day fashion show was entertaining. They didn't really think it out - the catwalk was in 2 sections, with the girls having to walk across the back of the room to get to the other part. This section was full with people standing, so the girls had to squeeze through a groping horde in semi darkness before they got to the next 'safe' area. Funny for me - but a total lack of common-sense in the organisation. I did meet a chap that I hadn't seen for over 20 years. A group of us used to borrow his chauffeur-driven Bentley to collect and deliver us to whichever bar he was in, when we were young and knocking around Alderley Edge. It was really good to see him - he's still doing OK, and now in central Manchester. Alderley got a bit too 'bling' for him when the footballers moved in.
Have been unblocked from Skype by the model! I didn't realise until she instant messaged me. That rally lasted for a minute or so, before she asked me to call her. I did and we spoke for an hour. Very nice. She's in Prague and OK. It was a lovely conversation, and she insisted on putting the video on so she could see me. She looked great and we laughed a lot. She forbade me from going to Thailand and was most concerned about the cold I caught at the fashion show. A very surprising event!
She called today as well for 30 minutes, telling me she's moving to Milan next week. and I should learn to speak Italian...
My Great-Uncle is very ill. He is 97 and we moved him to a nursing home in October. He's deteriorating fast, but we kept him at home as long as we could. Tonight the home said he may not last until tomorrow, so I waited at my parents' house until they came home, to see whether Mother would want a lift to see him. She spoke with some other family and we will go tomorrow morning.
It is strange, but there are no feelings of sadness or worry. At 97, one can only be circumspect about this sort of thing. 97 is no tragedy - more a feat to be celebrated. Particularly as he kept his independence right up to so close to the end. The next few days will tell, and BBC North West will report it; he has had quite an illustrious life.
Interestingly, the nursing home needed to know whether we would cremate or bury him. If cremated he would need 2 doctors to sign his certificate. That is because, since all of the incidents with people dying from abuse or wrong medication etc in care homes, people to be cremated must have an extra safeguard. They cannot be exhumed and tested should a scandal break out in the future. We agreed on cremation, with ashes to be scattered in a poignant place.
May have a busy couple of weeks ahead.
Fortunately, at 44 I was still slimmer than most of the young 20-something-year-old bucks, and have a decent tan to boot. Still went home alone though. T'was a great late evening, and it was fun to pull a few pints and engage in banter with the old customers, without having to stress in any way about how the pub was running.
The Boxing day fashion show was entertaining. They didn't really think it out - the catwalk was in 2 sections, with the girls having to walk across the back of the room to get to the other part. This section was full with people standing, so the girls had to squeeze through a groping horde in semi darkness before they got to the next 'safe' area. Funny for me - but a total lack of common-sense in the organisation. I did meet a chap that I hadn't seen for over 20 years. A group of us used to borrow his chauffeur-driven Bentley to collect and deliver us to whichever bar he was in, when we were young and knocking around Alderley Edge. It was really good to see him - he's still doing OK, and now in central Manchester. Alderley got a bit too 'bling' for him when the footballers moved in.
Have been unblocked from Skype by the model! I didn't realise until she instant messaged me. That rally lasted for a minute or so, before she asked me to call her. I did and we spoke for an hour. Very nice. She's in Prague and OK. It was a lovely conversation, and she insisted on putting the video on so she could see me. She looked great and we laughed a lot. She forbade me from going to Thailand and was most concerned about the cold I caught at the fashion show. A very surprising event!
She called today as well for 30 minutes, telling me she's moving to Milan next week. and I should learn to speak Italian...
My Great-Uncle is very ill. He is 97 and we moved him to a nursing home in October. He's deteriorating fast, but we kept him at home as long as we could. Tonight the home said he may not last until tomorrow, so I waited at my parents' house until they came home, to see whether Mother would want a lift to see him. She spoke with some other family and we will go tomorrow morning.
It is strange, but there are no feelings of sadness or worry. At 97, one can only be circumspect about this sort of thing. 97 is no tragedy - more a feat to be celebrated. Particularly as he kept his independence right up to so close to the end. The next few days will tell, and BBC North West will report it; he has had quite an illustrious life.
Interestingly, the nursing home needed to know whether we would cremate or bury him. If cremated he would need 2 doctors to sign his certificate. That is because, since all of the incidents with people dying from abuse or wrong medication etc in care homes, people to be cremated must have an extra safeguard. They cannot be exhumed and tested should a scandal break out in the future. We agreed on cremation, with ashes to be scattered in a poignant place.
May have a busy couple of weeks ahead.
Monday 26 December 2011
Well well well
Long time since I rapped at ya!
Drove to London from Ukraine in a couple of days. Quick stop in Holland and that was that. Nothing remarkable. Got to the apartment in Ealing, due to share with the Korean chap. Lasted 1 night. He refuses to clean after himself, and regards ALL food in the fridge as his, regardless of who bought it. He ate everything I brought to the house, and despite having the larger bedroom (over twice my rooms size), still had a load of his stuff in there. He was overbearing, and immediately started to try and boss me around. And scrounged all my cigarettes.
Fuck that. I drove to Macclesfield, and unloaded the car at Mallory Towers. Stayed for a couple of days and met up with another strange girl in my life. We went to the local craft-stuff market, and I found myself, by sheer fluke, parking the Landrover right next to my psychopathic paedophile ex-chef's van. I saw him in passing in the town centre, but he didn't clock me, being too busy grooming his new young protege.
However, when we walked back to the car, he was in his van. He spotted me, and started talking to his disciple, who was staring and laughing at me. He stopped laughing and looked a little surprised when I got into the Landrover.
Aaah the Landrover! When I returned to London a couple of days later, we took it for service and MoT. It was fucked - totally abused and neglected - no oil changes, no filter changes, front brakes down to the (cracked) disks. My boss played fuckwank, but accepted that what I had been telling him about the way the staff treated the car was true. Now they have really shot their bolt.
I went for a Thai with him on Portobello Road, which he really enjoyed, then took the train home, having explained why I cannot share with the Korean. He understood.
On return I immediately bought a little open-top sports car, an MGF. Silver with black hood, 70,000 miles and black leather interior. £850. Bargain. It runs like a dream and is fast enough to be fun. Clutch has started slipping, but at that price it's still a bargain.
As soon as I got home, I checked my e-mail, and received an invitation to Muscat, Oman. Buggeration, I had 3 days to play with the car (roof down in the cold sunshine) and then left. I had to leave it on the drive, and could have saved the money. Anyway what's done is done.
I flew to Oman via Abu Dhabi. First time in the Middle East. Sunshine, beaches, deserts and mountains. I acquired a nearly-new Harley Davidson and reacquainted myself with my love of motorbikes. I hadn't ridden since my time in South East Asia - UK weather and Ukraine road quality made me wary of having a bike, so I was 6 years out of the saddle. It has really fired me, and I aim to try South America on one within the next couple of years.
I also managed to obtain an all-over tan. I've always had a white stripe on my arse, so when I found the house had an un-overlooked roof terrace, it had to be done.
Had a month in Oman. Did what I had to do and came back. It was an interesting country and I would like to return. that may yet be possible - I will know in the next couple of weeks. The return included a 10-hour stopover at Abu Dhabi. I spent most of the time in the smoking room and met some very interesting people... including a Russian model, who was most impressed that I happened to be reading (I shit you not) a book of Russian poetry, in Russian. It had English translations, but I was only trying to learn the pronunciation of the words, not the meanings. It was given to me by my last Russian model's mother, around the time she was pushing me to marry her daughter.
She, by the way, is friendly with me again. We have had a little communication - she is currently in Prague, and aiming for Milan next month. I messaged her today - wishing her 'Merry Christmas' and telling her I missed her on her public profile. She responded positively on her public profile. So her friends know we are speaking again. I still do miss her very much, but do now think we'll meet again before long.
I didn't do the France trip - the boss wanted me to go, but still expected me to hang around waiting. He was spun out when I e-mailed him from Oman, but I needed to prove a point: I can find better things to do. He is currently in Ukraine with the Landrover, but will be driving it back - ha ha ha. If I haven't gone to Oman by his return, the 3rd week of January, I'll pop down to London to see him. He may have something for me to do which will pay me some money. Or maybe not...
So since my return a week ago, I've just wandered around the pubs, showing off my tan. Met up with the UK girl that I was once really into a couple of times - she's just texted me now, we're going to some form of society 'do' tomorrow night. Only because her car is knackered and she has to go there. Not sure whether I'm just chauffeuring or actually attending. Doesn't matter either way to me, so long as I know what to wear.
Been in my old pub a couple of times. I feel a little awkward, almost embarrassed to go in nowadays. It's still a nice place though. Last night the pub was dead, so I accompanied a friend to the Christmas Eve midnight mass at the local church. All the wording has become modern so it didn't appeal. My friend had had enough about half-way through, and I was bursting for the loo, so I followed him as he 'sneaked' out during the communion part. Tried to sneak out - the doors were locked and he made quite a noise rattling them, whilst I hid out of the congregation's sight on the staircase and giggled at his efforts. Eventually 2 regular church-goers came to his aid, and I scurried out when they had opened the doors.
Went to the pub by the church and ended up drinking rounds of shots. Christmas day was a little 'fragile'. Dinner at my brother's and home by the fire. Received a keyring that stores photographs, so loaded it up with pictures of my Russian model. Does that sound obsessive or stalker-ish? Don't care: I like to look through them - pix of us together, pix I took at home and when we were out, and modelling shots. She is beautiful and I still celebrate that. Obviously I'm not over her - I'm not so shallow as to switch her off overnight, and it will take a while for such intense feelings to diminish to the point where I can find a new mate. And no matter what, a part of me will always love her. Enough of that. it's now the end of Christmas Day, and I'm back at home with my parents. That makes a nice family time; my brother, sister and I are rarely all together.
Drove to London from Ukraine in a couple of days. Quick stop in Holland and that was that. Nothing remarkable. Got to the apartment in Ealing, due to share with the Korean chap. Lasted 1 night. He refuses to clean after himself, and regards ALL food in the fridge as his, regardless of who bought it. He ate everything I brought to the house, and despite having the larger bedroom (over twice my rooms size), still had a load of his stuff in there. He was overbearing, and immediately started to try and boss me around. And scrounged all my cigarettes.
Fuck that. I drove to Macclesfield, and unloaded the car at Mallory Towers. Stayed for a couple of days and met up with another strange girl in my life. We went to the local craft-stuff market, and I found myself, by sheer fluke, parking the Landrover right next to my psychopathic paedophile ex-chef's van. I saw him in passing in the town centre, but he didn't clock me, being too busy grooming his new young protege.
However, when we walked back to the car, he was in his van. He spotted me, and started talking to his disciple, who was staring and laughing at me. He stopped laughing and looked a little surprised when I got into the Landrover.
Aaah the Landrover! When I returned to London a couple of days later, we took it for service and MoT. It was fucked - totally abused and neglected - no oil changes, no filter changes, front brakes down to the (cracked) disks. My boss played fuckwank, but accepted that what I had been telling him about the way the staff treated the car was true. Now they have really shot their bolt.
I went for a Thai with him on Portobello Road, which he really enjoyed, then took the train home, having explained why I cannot share with the Korean. He understood.
On return I immediately bought a little open-top sports car, an MGF. Silver with black hood, 70,000 miles and black leather interior. £850. Bargain. It runs like a dream and is fast enough to be fun. Clutch has started slipping, but at that price it's still a bargain.
As soon as I got home, I checked my e-mail, and received an invitation to Muscat, Oman. Buggeration, I had 3 days to play with the car (roof down in the cold sunshine) and then left. I had to leave it on the drive, and could have saved the money. Anyway what's done is done.
I flew to Oman via Abu Dhabi. First time in the Middle East. Sunshine, beaches, deserts and mountains. I acquired a nearly-new Harley Davidson and reacquainted myself with my love of motorbikes. I hadn't ridden since my time in South East Asia - UK weather and Ukraine road quality made me wary of having a bike, so I was 6 years out of the saddle. It has really fired me, and I aim to try South America on one within the next couple of years.
I also managed to obtain an all-over tan. I've always had a white stripe on my arse, so when I found the house had an un-overlooked roof terrace, it had to be done.
Had a month in Oman. Did what I had to do and came back. It was an interesting country and I would like to return. that may yet be possible - I will know in the next couple of weeks. The return included a 10-hour stopover at Abu Dhabi. I spent most of the time in the smoking room and met some very interesting people... including a Russian model, who was most impressed that I happened to be reading (I shit you not) a book of Russian poetry, in Russian. It had English translations, but I was only trying to learn the pronunciation of the words, not the meanings. It was given to me by my last Russian model's mother, around the time she was pushing me to marry her daughter.
She, by the way, is friendly with me again. We have had a little communication - she is currently in Prague, and aiming for Milan next month. I messaged her today - wishing her 'Merry Christmas' and telling her I missed her on her public profile. She responded positively on her public profile. So her friends know we are speaking again. I still do miss her very much, but do now think we'll meet again before long.
I didn't do the France trip - the boss wanted me to go, but still expected me to hang around waiting. He was spun out when I e-mailed him from Oman, but I needed to prove a point: I can find better things to do. He is currently in Ukraine with the Landrover, but will be driving it back - ha ha ha. If I haven't gone to Oman by his return, the 3rd week of January, I'll pop down to London to see him. He may have something for me to do which will pay me some money. Or maybe not...
So since my return a week ago, I've just wandered around the pubs, showing off my tan. Met up with the UK girl that I was once really into a couple of times - she's just texted me now, we're going to some form of society 'do' tomorrow night. Only because her car is knackered and she has to go there. Not sure whether I'm just chauffeuring or actually attending. Doesn't matter either way to me, so long as I know what to wear.
Been in my old pub a couple of times. I feel a little awkward, almost embarrassed to go in nowadays. It's still a nice place though. Last night the pub was dead, so I accompanied a friend to the Christmas Eve midnight mass at the local church. All the wording has become modern so it didn't appeal. My friend had had enough about half-way through, and I was bursting for the loo, so I followed him as he 'sneaked' out during the communion part. Tried to sneak out - the doors were locked and he made quite a noise rattling them, whilst I hid out of the congregation's sight on the staircase and giggled at his efforts. Eventually 2 regular church-goers came to his aid, and I scurried out when they had opened the doors.
Went to the pub by the church and ended up drinking rounds of shots. Christmas day was a little 'fragile'. Dinner at my brother's and home by the fire. Received a keyring that stores photographs, so loaded it up with pictures of my Russian model. Does that sound obsessive or stalker-ish? Don't care: I like to look through them - pix of us together, pix I took at home and when we were out, and modelling shots. She is beautiful and I still celebrate that. Obviously I'm not over her - I'm not so shallow as to switch her off overnight, and it will take a while for such intense feelings to diminish to the point where I can find a new mate. And no matter what, a part of me will always love her. Enough of that. it's now the end of Christmas Day, and I'm back at home with my parents. That makes a nice family time; my brother, sister and I are rarely all together.
And I get to walk the dog again.
Tuesday 25 October 2011
Take it or leave it
Well, all is packed and my passport has returned. Looks like I'll be enjoying an Indian meal on Friday, and a Thai restaurant in London Saturday. Can't say I'm sad to go, not now. Will return one day for holiday, but maybe that will be a long time away. So I am told, they won't allow me back for 5 years when I leave this time. So be fucking it.
Will head to London for a few days, then down to the South of France. That will be a nice break. It will be good to see my parents, walk the dog and all that attendant home and family stuff.
Looks like all ties are severed with her. She fell out with me hugely on Sunday and said she never wants to see me again. Refuses to answer her phone or respond to texts. For a bullshit reason. Well, as this will be the last time I'll write about her, I'll put the situation down:
I was asked to arrange a guest list for Sunday lunch. She was interested and we put one together. Then the housekeeper said she had done it and the list was full. We cancelled our guests and decided that we were not going either, not to the 'cleaning lady's luncheon'.
Sunday morning, the boss asked me to go and buy some wine. When I came back he asked if I was going, and I told him I wasn't. He said he really wanted me to go, so I reluctantly agreed to support him. I then phoned her to let her know. I woke her up, and she said that she was tired, having not slept well, was spending the afternoon sleeping and would call me later, goodbye. Phone down. I didn't get past the 'How are you today?'.
So what do I do? Call her back? So I went to the lunch on my own, thinking at least I'd get some food and a drink in me. She called a couple of hours later, asking what I was doing. I told her I was at the lunch and she went fucking bananas, accusing me of not inviting her, bullshitting her etc etc, then put the phone down. She wouldn't answer the phone to me, so I texted her, apologising (why?), and she sent me a single, brush off response, ending 'Have a nice life'. Texted yesterday but no response. I see her on-line on Skype, but if she won't answer her mobile, she won't answer that. What a shame to leave on such bad terms. I will be leaving in approximately 24 hours and might not be back here for 5 years. The one person I wanted to continue any form of communication with has blown me out, and that wasn't my fault. I do think that it was just an excuse though, but hardly see the point if I am leaving anyway (after a lot of discussion and agreement with her), and she is also leaving next month. So why part on such bad terms?
I will text her when I am crossing the border - the last message I will send on my local mobile number. And wish her happy birthday in April. Apart from that, it has to be up to her - I am not going to harass her. She made it plain she doesn't want a relationship with me, and now is making it plain she never wants to see me ever again. I have told her how I feel about her - completely, and it is she who does not want that.
The most beautiful girl I have ever met. She brought sunshine to my life. The boss did ask me if I wanted to bring her with me, and I said 'yes', but could not as she is house-sitting, does not like London, and does not really want to get further involved with me. Had hoped we would meet in Europe somewhere, but now I know that if we do, it would be a frosty experience. Unlikely though, Europe is a big place, and I'm only small.
I do wish her happiness, but think it will become ever more difficult to find as she gets older. She's 36 now, and still single; her clock is ticking far more urgently than mine, and with every passing birthday, she will become less of a catch, especially if she remains so volatile. Maybe my offer is not the best, but at least it was sincere.
So it looks like this is the last words I will write about her. Sorry to have gone on about her over the past few weeks, but she truly captured my heart. Now she is gone, I'll have to fill the hole - and my writing here - with other stuff. Love her, miss her, want her. So very sorry.
Will head to London for a few days, then down to the South of France. That will be a nice break. It will be good to see my parents, walk the dog and all that attendant home and family stuff.
Looks like all ties are severed with her. She fell out with me hugely on Sunday and said she never wants to see me again. Refuses to answer her phone or respond to texts. For a bullshit reason. Well, as this will be the last time I'll write about her, I'll put the situation down:
I was asked to arrange a guest list for Sunday lunch. She was interested and we put one together. Then the housekeeper said she had done it and the list was full. We cancelled our guests and decided that we were not going either, not to the 'cleaning lady's luncheon'.
Sunday morning, the boss asked me to go and buy some wine. When I came back he asked if I was going, and I told him I wasn't. He said he really wanted me to go, so I reluctantly agreed to support him. I then phoned her to let her know. I woke her up, and she said that she was tired, having not slept well, was spending the afternoon sleeping and would call me later, goodbye. Phone down. I didn't get past the 'How are you today?'.
So what do I do? Call her back? So I went to the lunch on my own, thinking at least I'd get some food and a drink in me. She called a couple of hours later, asking what I was doing. I told her I was at the lunch and she went fucking bananas, accusing me of not inviting her, bullshitting her etc etc, then put the phone down. She wouldn't answer the phone to me, so I texted her, apologising (why?), and she sent me a single, brush off response, ending 'Have a nice life'. Texted yesterday but no response. I see her on-line on Skype, but if she won't answer her mobile, she won't answer that. What a shame to leave on such bad terms. I will be leaving in approximately 24 hours and might not be back here for 5 years. The one person I wanted to continue any form of communication with has blown me out, and that wasn't my fault. I do think that it was just an excuse though, but hardly see the point if I am leaving anyway (after a lot of discussion and agreement with her), and she is also leaving next month. So why part on such bad terms?
I will text her when I am crossing the border - the last message I will send on my local mobile number. And wish her happy birthday in April. Apart from that, it has to be up to her - I am not going to harass her. She made it plain she doesn't want a relationship with me, and now is making it plain she never wants to see me ever again. I have told her how I feel about her - completely, and it is she who does not want that.
The most beautiful girl I have ever met. She brought sunshine to my life. The boss did ask me if I wanted to bring her with me, and I said 'yes', but could not as she is house-sitting, does not like London, and does not really want to get further involved with me. Had hoped we would meet in Europe somewhere, but now I know that if we do, it would be a frosty experience. Unlikely though, Europe is a big place, and I'm only small.
I do wish her happiness, but think it will become ever more difficult to find as she gets older. She's 36 now, and still single; her clock is ticking far more urgently than mine, and with every passing birthday, she will become less of a catch, especially if she remains so volatile. Maybe my offer is not the best, but at least it was sincere.
So it looks like this is the last words I will write about her. Sorry to have gone on about her over the past few weeks, but she truly captured my heart. Now she is gone, I'll have to fill the hole - and my writing here - with other stuff. Love her, miss her, want her. So very sorry.
Saturday 22 October 2011
Ready for the off
Plan is to leave Wednesday. Still believe it when I see it though. I will gladly place a bet the my passport will not be ready in time, and the boss will have to go to Poland without me. For whatever reason, they will fuck up my departure, even though they don't want me here. I reckon it's the car. They will do anything to stop me taking it out of the country; their plan is to get me out and leave the car.
Am packing anyway. Will still drive him to the border, but know that if he gets to the airport without me, I'll be impounded here until Christmas. Fucking Hell. She leaves in a month and then I'll be completely alone. She's now more interested in the chap that's following me - my communication link. She certainly has plans for him, and possibly plans for this apartment. Very interesting; she kind of wants to follow me, but kind of doesn't. I'll go where I go now, there will be a trail and the prize is so very well worth having, but you really have to be dedicated.
So many opportunities have opened up; I just need to get out from here. Don't believe that I'll ever spend more than a fortnight here again if I can possibly avoid it.
Have I a photograph to share today?
Am packing anyway. Will still drive him to the border, but know that if he gets to the airport without me, I'll be impounded here until Christmas. Fucking Hell. She leaves in a month and then I'll be completely alone. She's now more interested in the chap that's following me - my communication link. She certainly has plans for him, and possibly plans for this apartment. Very interesting; she kind of wants to follow me, but kind of doesn't. I'll go where I go now, there will be a trail and the prize is so very well worth having, but you really have to be dedicated.
So many opportunities have opened up; I just need to get out from here. Don't believe that I'll ever spend more than a fortnight here again if I can possibly avoid it.
Have I a photograph to share today?
Make of it what you will.
So now I have a trip to London, with a couple of Cheshire visits. Might even try to pop to the Lake District for a couple of days. Then after say 2 weeks in the UK, a run to the South of France, and some time at a farmhouse there. Then, perhaps here, but I feel Asia calling. HK is possible, and with success there, could bounce to Thailand and repeat, progressing another project. One friend is suggesting Long Island. Hmmmm jury is out. I still don't know how far progressed I am on this trip and what I'm taking with me. And what I'm leaving behind.
Thursday 20 October 2011
Fun and Games
Yesterday took the biscuit.
The boss was flying over to a small airport in Poland. He asked me to collect him. All the visa shit that went down earlier was a result of learning that I could not leave the country to pick him up. If he hadn't been coming in, they wouldn't even have gone that far.
Anyway, I discussed this with him, and we agreed that he would be collected by a Polish chap at the airport and driven to the border. He then walks across and I wait on the other side in the car. We have a driver, so I could sit and chat on the way back to the city.
Yesterday, an emissary was sent from the office to dissuade me from going. Initial gambit was that is was too late and I'd be tired, so no need. We had arranged to set off at 9pm, so would return about 1.30. Not too late.
When I said it was no problem, I was then told that I couldn't go as my passport is not with me (at the lawyers). Smelling a rat by now, I explained that I was not crossing the border, nor was I driving. Surely I don't need such a document to be a passenger in a car? I would take the risk, as I really wanted to go see him.
Then the muppet from the office just said, 'We propose to CANCEL your going to meet him. So we will do that." I then insisted on the reason for this, saying that I had personally arranged this with the boss, and why was this such a problem? He went pale, and asked me why I insisted on going. When I replied "because I do, what the fuck is your problem with that", he rushed off and there was a lot of consternation in the building.
So we went to dinner. A very nice dinner on the outskirts of town. She was good fun and I realise how much I will miss her. It is a shame that it will never be; we've wasted a great opportunity.
The intermediary phoned to say my driver would be at the building in 30 minutes. We had arranged to go at 9.00pm, so after finishing dinner I walked back to the office, arriving at 9.00pm. No driver. No car. On the phone to find out where he was - nobody knew. Eventually I discovered that his phone battery was flat, and he didn't answer the phone until he was 50 miles out of town, heading for the border.
I told them to turn the fucker back. He returned to collect me, taking me to a different collection point then the boss and I had arranged. He did get a few calls on his 'flat' mobile en route, so the meeting point was legitimate. On the way back I explained how they had so deliberately tried to stop me from going to collect him, and in general always tried to block me whenever I wanted to use the car. He was not impressed.
Upshot is, I'm out of here. South of France for me. And I'm taking the fucking car.
The boss was flying over to a small airport in Poland. He asked me to collect him. All the visa shit that went down earlier was a result of learning that I could not leave the country to pick him up. If he hadn't been coming in, they wouldn't even have gone that far.
Anyway, I discussed this with him, and we agreed that he would be collected by a Polish chap at the airport and driven to the border. He then walks across and I wait on the other side in the car. We have a driver, so I could sit and chat on the way back to the city.
Yesterday, an emissary was sent from the office to dissuade me from going. Initial gambit was that is was too late and I'd be tired, so no need. We had arranged to set off at 9pm, so would return about 1.30. Not too late.
When I said it was no problem, I was then told that I couldn't go as my passport is not with me (at the lawyers). Smelling a rat by now, I explained that I was not crossing the border, nor was I driving. Surely I don't need such a document to be a passenger in a car? I would take the risk, as I really wanted to go see him.
Then the muppet from the office just said, 'We propose to CANCEL your going to meet him. So we will do that." I then insisted on the reason for this, saying that I had personally arranged this with the boss, and why was this such a problem? He went pale, and asked me why I insisted on going. When I replied "because I do, what the fuck is your problem with that", he rushed off and there was a lot of consternation in the building.
So we went to dinner. A very nice dinner on the outskirts of town. She was good fun and I realise how much I will miss her. It is a shame that it will never be; we've wasted a great opportunity.
The intermediary phoned to say my driver would be at the building in 30 minutes. We had arranged to go at 9.00pm, so after finishing dinner I walked back to the office, arriving at 9.00pm. No driver. No car. On the phone to find out where he was - nobody knew. Eventually I discovered that his phone battery was flat, and he didn't answer the phone until he was 50 miles out of town, heading for the border.
I told them to turn the fucker back. He returned to collect me, taking me to a different collection point then the boss and I had arranged. He did get a few calls on his 'flat' mobile en route, so the meeting point was legitimate. On the way back I explained how they had so deliberately tried to stop me from going to collect him, and in general always tried to block me whenever I wanted to use the car. He was not impressed.
Upshot is, I'm out of here. South of France for me. And I'm taking the fucking car.
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