More of life
Behind the LJ cut: Woo room to rent in Cambridge, first impressions, the oddness of attraction. Don saga continues. Leaving work and friends, and finally got to watch We Own the Night!
I can has room to rent in Cambridge? Why, yes, yes I can has. After a day of solid driving, with maybe a few intervals of about 20 minutes or so, I'm pooped. Why on earth is sitting on your ass in a car so damned tiring? Got round five flats around the city with a 3.5 hour drive either side and spent a whopping £50 on friggin petrol! Seriously... even saw some pumps up at £1.23 a litre. For the US equivalent, that would be just about scraping the $10 a gallon mark. Friggin rediculous.
Had a gut insinct about which I would like, and was proven right - gotta love following your instincts. After seeing a freelance teacher in a nearby town that was very shoddy house with a bathroom downstairs behind the kitchen (?!); a bigger house in a nicer area with three other young party girls under 30; a Spanish lady with a ground floor flat with next to no security, whose chest I couldn't help but stare at as she was so thin I could see the breast bone structure under her skin - ever the anatomy studier; a nice house in a quiet suburb owned by a gay couple with a gorgeous cat; and a five bed town house rented out to the likes of plastic surgeons, engineers and self employed recruitment specialists, I had a pretty varied view of the ilk of Cambridge! Gut instinct before I went said I would most likely like the gay couple if the house was right, and I was right! An immaculate house in fabulous taste. Gotta love gay men, they take so much more care in general, and they don't seem like the party till you spew kind either, which suits me to the ground. And cheap room too, £110 cheaper than the other two I liked, all in with bills. So all round bargain really given it's only 5 mins drive, or a 30-ish minute bike ride from work.
Though instinct can sometimes be way out too, I find. The last house was a sudden stand in for a lady who called yesterday to say she'd just let her room, and to be honest I'd booked it more as a bench mark to set the others by, and because the fact it was air-conditioned and had a gym intrigued me, not to mention the guy had agreed to let me have the room for £55 less a month than advertised. But the guy had been pretty abrupt in most of the communications, and I'd had a sod of a time trying to get hold of him to ask if he was about at 4:30. So first impressions were a little shaky. Then when I called him to se if he was okay with us being there a little earlier, I got this amazing answer message that sounded like some actor really hamming the stereo-typical brit businessman up. You have to imagine this in a kind of forceful, well-spoken english accent that has rings of arrogance about it: "Hi, this is Howard Train. I'm either busy or in a meeting right now, but if you leave a clear, concise message after the beep I'll get back to you." Doesn't look half as pompous as it sounded, having read that, but it cracked me up no end. So I was already taking the piss before I got to the house, and even moreso when we got there to find a softtop BMW in the drive. He'd warned me he may be in an interview when I got there (At his house??), but we were about 5-10 mins early, so caught him before his interviewee got there. I was expecting some city high-flyer business guy in a posh suit. What I got was this almost bohemian looking guy in bare feet with this shaggy hairdo munching on his dinner. I can't imagine what my face must have looked like. After removing our shoes, we got the brief tour of the room and the house, then chatted to him briefly before we went. He had a book of about 300 people he'd recruited around the city, and he was telling us about how the first person to put down the cash that he liked would get the room. Apparently he'd had a geek in the week before and couldn't bear the thought of living with a geek, which really made me giggle, given the company I'm about to start at. I made some comment about not judging books by their cover, and he replied that in the recruitment business he interviews loads of people and was a pretty good judge of character, so I bit the bullet and asked how I was doing in his estimation. *grin* He actually seemed impressed I'd had the balls to ask!
Thing is.. if you'd written everything down for me on paper, as to what he was going to be like.. maybe shown me a photo, I'd have laughed you out the building if you'd told me I might have considered living there. But in person, it's weird. My sister, along with me as a second opinion and voice of reason, said the minute we were out of the house she didn't like it. But I countered to the opposite, that there was something of the street-wise worldliness about him that I felt weirdly attracted to. She came back saying I'd need a lock on the bedroom door as he'd probably be the sort to sneak into the room at night. Creepy and smarmy were her choice words. But I dunno... maybe its the bad boy love kicking in again, and lord knows that's not been a great path for me, but dammit, for about the next half an hour, all I could think about was this guy, who was totally not my type, but that had this awesome not-caring about what the world thinks, cocky, arrogant yet slightly charming attraction to him. Ahaha I think I even entertained the notion of ringing him tomorrow and saying I'd found another room, but if he fancied a drink, I'd be more than willing! *grin* I doubt I shall.. I made myself a vow not to chase my next man, that he would have to approach me, don't think I'll be breaking it. But damn it's a while since I've felt any kinda spark so instantly. I think the intellectual in me adores the idea of living with people like him and the engineer and plastic surgeons... that kind of pseudo-arthouse vibe where these guys have lived a little and might actually have something beyond booze and going out to talk about. Oi, the very idea is a turn on... *snort*
Strange.
On the subject of bad boy males, my only ex and former boss has declined to attend my final leaving party on account that he has prior engagements that he conveniently forgot to remember when I asked him on Tuesday. You might think he'd remember something like his grand daughter's birthday. Meh. I suspect it's bullshit, perhaps an excuse not to have to ask his other half, or he just can't be arsed, either is a likely possibility. It upsets me, I'll be honest, much as I loathe to admit it. After everything we went through together it would have been nice to say goodbye properly... I like having closure on things. Something that goes beyond his idea of saying goodbye to 9 years of history with a text that says enjoy yourself and good luck. Big of you John... real big. You could at least have graced me with a phone call. I shouldn't be surprised, but I continue to hope for a spark of the old John. Still, at least everyone else will be there, including my best friend, who's coming up from Huddersfield for the occasion and staying over! She's not stayed with me in about 7 or so years, so I feel like I'm a school kid again, having a sleep over! And bless, my coffee shop girls, who are one of the nicest bunches of people I've worked with got me a card to say good luck, which given I was only there for a couple of months was really sweet! I shall miss my bantering with them, and if nothing else the physical aspect of the job. And I'll never be able to think about Trevor Eve and mayonnaise in the same way again, cheers for that Wendy.
I think I rescued my previously dubious record with a certain Scotsman too, having completed the Little Ginger Bastard portrait for him, we had a final lunch up at the Friars (at his suggestion), and it was a glorious sunny day, so we sat outside and watched all the old people play croquet and cracked jokes about them. I dared to wear the dress I bought ages ago and haven't yet worn, (and elicited a compliment from the man on the way out after the meal). He'd seen the wips of the dog, so I knew he would be happy with the final thing, and so he was. Though being, as I am, not of the shouty exaggerating nature his reception of it was decidedly low-key. After a yummy warm duck salad and strawberry meringue, we chatted about all sorts, I regaled him with the story of my sister's puking antics in the local Indian restaurant, he told me of the time he'd managed to lock himself drunkenly in the toilet of a Hall his friend had got married in, and awoken to find all the lights out and no one to let him out until the night porter got there. He then had to walk 15 miles home. *snort* I admired his new limited edition Saab sports estate car on the way out, and got a big hug and a kiss as way of goodbye. Came out of the whole thing feeling much more upbeat, if a little saddened by the thought of not getting to see him again for a long while. I think perhaps I might be coming to terms with the whole weird thing, and not driving myself nuts for days after with the what ifs.
And I finally got to watch We Own the Night, a film I've wanted to see since the very minute I saw the trailer. I love Joaquim Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg, and given the plotline was about two brothers on opposing sides of the law (one a police chief, the other the manager of a drugs haven nightclub) and their subsequent struggles, I knew I'd love it. Glad to say it didn't disappoint... it wasn't what I'd expected... in the same way that There Will Be Blood wasn't what I'd expected. It was slower, more deliberate than the action thriller I'd expected, yet somehow managed to not round its characters out as much as I'd have liked... there was SO much potential between the two, especially given Phoenix's performance in the early part of the film with his nonchalant attitude towards his family, that it went a little flat by the end. But it was a cracking performance by Phoenix... and there was a car chase in the middle that was incredibly tense even though you knew how it was going to end up. It reminded me a little in terms of its cinematographic approach of the Tom Cruise film, Collateral, but a little grittier. I love the fact they used mostly overcast and rainy days to film on, gave the whole thing a very sombre tone. All in all a great film, perhaps an acquired taste, as it's not quite arty and thoughtful enough to appeal to the intellectual film lover (like TWBB) but not quite fast paced enough to appeal to the action film junkie either.
So yes. Life is certainly not dull at the moment.... can't wait to get to Cambridge and settle, find my way around and get to know folk. So long country bumpkin life!
And for the love of god won't someone purge me of this desire to draw porn?? It's getting silly.
I can has room to rent in Cambridge? Why, yes, yes I can has. After a day of solid driving, with maybe a few intervals of about 20 minutes or so, I'm pooped. Why on earth is sitting on your ass in a car so damned tiring? Got round five flats around the city with a 3.5 hour drive either side and spent a whopping £50 on friggin petrol! Seriously... even saw some pumps up at £1.23 a litre. For the US equivalent, that would be just about scraping the $10 a gallon mark. Friggin rediculous.
Had a gut insinct about which I would like, and was proven right - gotta love following your instincts. After seeing a freelance teacher in a nearby town that was very shoddy house with a bathroom downstairs behind the kitchen (?!); a bigger house in a nicer area with three other young party girls under 30; a Spanish lady with a ground floor flat with next to no security, whose chest I couldn't help but stare at as she was so thin I could see the breast bone structure under her skin - ever the anatomy studier; a nice house in a quiet suburb owned by a gay couple with a gorgeous cat; and a five bed town house rented out to the likes of plastic surgeons, engineers and self employed recruitment specialists, I had a pretty varied view of the ilk of Cambridge! Gut instinct before I went said I would most likely like the gay couple if the house was right, and I was right! An immaculate house in fabulous taste. Gotta love gay men, they take so much more care in general, and they don't seem like the party till you spew kind either, which suits me to the ground. And cheap room too, £110 cheaper than the other two I liked, all in with bills. So all round bargain really given it's only 5 mins drive, or a 30-ish minute bike ride from work.
Though instinct can sometimes be way out too, I find. The last house was a sudden stand in for a lady who called yesterday to say she'd just let her room, and to be honest I'd booked it more as a bench mark to set the others by, and because the fact it was air-conditioned and had a gym intrigued me, not to mention the guy had agreed to let me have the room for £55 less a month than advertised. But the guy had been pretty abrupt in most of the communications, and I'd had a sod of a time trying to get hold of him to ask if he was about at 4:30. So first impressions were a little shaky. Then when I called him to se if he was okay with us being there a little earlier, I got this amazing answer message that sounded like some actor really hamming the stereo-typical brit businessman up. You have to imagine this in a kind of forceful, well-spoken english accent that has rings of arrogance about it: "Hi, this is Howard Train. I'm either busy or in a meeting right now, but if you leave a clear, concise message after the beep I'll get back to you." Doesn't look half as pompous as it sounded, having read that, but it cracked me up no end. So I was already taking the piss before I got to the house, and even moreso when we got there to find a softtop BMW in the drive. He'd warned me he may be in an interview when I got there (At his house??), but we were about 5-10 mins early, so caught him before his interviewee got there. I was expecting some city high-flyer business guy in a posh suit. What I got was this almost bohemian looking guy in bare feet with this shaggy hairdo munching on his dinner. I can't imagine what my face must have looked like. After removing our shoes, we got the brief tour of the room and the house, then chatted to him briefly before we went. He had a book of about 300 people he'd recruited around the city, and he was telling us about how the first person to put down the cash that he liked would get the room. Apparently he'd had a geek in the week before and couldn't bear the thought of living with a geek, which really made me giggle, given the company I'm about to start at. I made some comment about not judging books by their cover, and he replied that in the recruitment business he interviews loads of people and was a pretty good judge of character, so I bit the bullet and asked how I was doing in his estimation. *grin* He actually seemed impressed I'd had the balls to ask!
Thing is.. if you'd written everything down for me on paper, as to what he was going to be like.. maybe shown me a photo, I'd have laughed you out the building if you'd told me I might have considered living there. But in person, it's weird. My sister, along with me as a second opinion and voice of reason, said the minute we were out of the house she didn't like it. But I countered to the opposite, that there was something of the street-wise worldliness about him that I felt weirdly attracted to. She came back saying I'd need a lock on the bedroom door as he'd probably be the sort to sneak into the room at night. Creepy and smarmy were her choice words. But I dunno... maybe its the bad boy love kicking in again, and lord knows that's not been a great path for me, but dammit, for about the next half an hour, all I could think about was this guy, who was totally not my type, but that had this awesome not-caring about what the world thinks, cocky, arrogant yet slightly charming attraction to him. Ahaha I think I even entertained the notion of ringing him tomorrow and saying I'd found another room, but if he fancied a drink, I'd be more than willing! *grin* I doubt I shall.. I made myself a vow not to chase my next man, that he would have to approach me, don't think I'll be breaking it. But damn it's a while since I've felt any kinda spark so instantly. I think the intellectual in me adores the idea of living with people like him and the engineer and plastic surgeons... that kind of pseudo-arthouse vibe where these guys have lived a little and might actually have something beyond booze and going out to talk about. Oi, the very idea is a turn on... *snort*
Strange.
On the subject of bad boy males, my only ex and former boss has declined to attend my final leaving party on account that he has prior engagements that he conveniently forgot to remember when I asked him on Tuesday. You might think he'd remember something like his grand daughter's birthday. Meh. I suspect it's bullshit, perhaps an excuse not to have to ask his other half, or he just can't be arsed, either is a likely possibility. It upsets me, I'll be honest, much as I loathe to admit it. After everything we went through together it would have been nice to say goodbye properly... I like having closure on things. Something that goes beyond his idea of saying goodbye to 9 years of history with a text that says enjoy yourself and good luck. Big of you John... real big. You could at least have graced me with a phone call. I shouldn't be surprised, but I continue to hope for a spark of the old John. Still, at least everyone else will be there, including my best friend, who's coming up from Huddersfield for the occasion and staying over! She's not stayed with me in about 7 or so years, so I feel like I'm a school kid again, having a sleep over! And bless, my coffee shop girls, who are one of the nicest bunches of people I've worked with got me a card to say good luck, which given I was only there for a couple of months was really sweet! I shall miss my bantering with them, and if nothing else the physical aspect of the job. And I'll never be able to think about Trevor Eve and mayonnaise in the same way again, cheers for that Wendy.
I think I rescued my previously dubious record with a certain Scotsman too, having completed the Little Ginger Bastard portrait for him, we had a final lunch up at the Friars (at his suggestion), and it was a glorious sunny day, so we sat outside and watched all the old people play croquet and cracked jokes about them. I dared to wear the dress I bought ages ago and haven't yet worn, (and elicited a compliment from the man on the way out after the meal). He'd seen the wips of the dog, so I knew he would be happy with the final thing, and so he was. Though being, as I am, not of the shouty exaggerating nature his reception of it was decidedly low-key. After a yummy warm duck salad and strawberry meringue, we chatted about all sorts, I regaled him with the story of my sister's puking antics in the local Indian restaurant, he told me of the time he'd managed to lock himself drunkenly in the toilet of a Hall his friend had got married in, and awoken to find all the lights out and no one to let him out until the night porter got there. He then had to walk 15 miles home. *snort* I admired his new limited edition Saab sports estate car on the way out, and got a big hug and a kiss as way of goodbye. Came out of the whole thing feeling much more upbeat, if a little saddened by the thought of not getting to see him again for a long while. I think perhaps I might be coming to terms with the whole weird thing, and not driving myself nuts for days after with the what ifs.
And I finally got to watch We Own the Night, a film I've wanted to see since the very minute I saw the trailer. I love Joaquim Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg, and given the plotline was about two brothers on opposing sides of the law (one a police chief, the other the manager of a drugs haven nightclub) and their subsequent struggles, I knew I'd love it. Glad to say it didn't disappoint... it wasn't what I'd expected... in the same way that There Will Be Blood wasn't what I'd expected. It was slower, more deliberate than the action thriller I'd expected, yet somehow managed to not round its characters out as much as I'd have liked... there was SO much potential between the two, especially given Phoenix's performance in the early part of the film with his nonchalant attitude towards his family, that it went a little flat by the end. But it was a cracking performance by Phoenix... and there was a car chase in the middle that was incredibly tense even though you knew how it was going to end up. It reminded me a little in terms of its cinematographic approach of the Tom Cruise film, Collateral, but a little grittier. I love the fact they used mostly overcast and rainy days to film on, gave the whole thing a very sombre tone. All in all a great film, perhaps an acquired taste, as it's not quite arty and thoughtful enough to appeal to the intellectual film lover (like TWBB) but not quite fast paced enough to appeal to the action film junkie either.
So yes. Life is certainly not dull at the moment.... can't wait to get to Cambridge and settle, find my way around and get to know folk. So long country bumpkin life!
And for the love of god won't someone purge me of this desire to draw porn?? It's getting silly.