I fell in love on Friday night with a ginger, bearded barman (who shall henceforth be known as 'G.B.B'). I know it's true love for the following reasons:
a) He looked really good in a pair of Speedo's (please note: we did all go to a so-called 'beach party' at the Union, he wasn't just attention seeking) (he may have been a little attention seeking. Speedo's after 10pm for whatever reason is quite a bold fashion statement)
b) He has a beard.
I've spent the last two days on campus seeing if I could spot him anywhere to no avail. I have managed to find six different bearded ginger men but not MY ginger bearded barman. Of course, I *could* have seen him and just forgotten what he looks like exactly. You've seen the pictures of our pre-Beach party larks right? Well then, you know what state I was in (allowing for photographic proof of me Singstar-ing = bad news).
It's my birthday next Monday. No, no. Don't worry about getting me those Sabrina the Teenage Witch magnets. I got those for Christmas, remember? I havent had the birthday blues too bad, unlike... well pretty much every year since I was old enough to remember (there must be some real Freudian shit connected to that cos for one week prior and two weeks apres I get really glum; you could set your watch by it. DISCLAIMER: For practical purposes I would suggest setting your watch by the talking clock or teletext instead). I did have a gripping panic on Friday realising I am now SIX YEARS OLDER than most of the Freshers. Not helped by the fact that a very baby-faced young man started a conversation with me at the bar that night about how he'd been dumped the day before because his girlfriend couldn't have a long-distance relationship (I think that's what he said... to be fair I was a bit distracted by G.B.B. at the time). 'Well everyone has to have their heart broken at LEAST once', I said patronisingly 'I did for the first time when I was 19 and I'm all the better for it'
'You're 19 now?' he said hopefully.
'No... I'm 24 in a week'
'Ooh! Older woman!'
Which would have been flattering I guess if my brain hadn't started flashing up signs that read 'YOU NONCE!' in 20 foot high neon lettering. Plus, I'm pretty sure it wasn't just that they were at different universities... coming into contact with so many men in Freshers Week must have made her realise once and for all that her 'man' was a tad 'waggish' (read: closet homosexual).
But anyway, because I always have a rubbish birthday I've decided to have a birthday week. That way if one day of celebration is pants then I can always just pretend that I was really celebrating my birthday on Day X instead thereby removing the pressure to have a good time on a particular day.
Here's the basic outline of the plan so far:
Friday 29th September - Going to see 'The Smyths'. A Smiths tribute band (funnily enough). If they are anything like all the other tribute bands I've been to over the years (Kes and I got slightly addicted at one point) then they'll be 'kack but funny' (in the words of the lady herself). I am eager to see if they'll beat the Tina Turner tribute I once saw. She set the bar by which all other tribute acts are judged.
Saturday 30th September - Posh meal with folks and grand-folks. Not expecting anything too rowdy that night (but with Papa Mikey there anything is possible).
Sunday 1st October - Get the folks to drive me back to The Ford (after buying me my food shopping for the week. It's only fair after gracing them with my presence for a couple of days that they should return the favour with edible delights... She said only half ironically) and then watch movies all afternoon (on the list of must-sees is 'Grey Gardens' and 'Office Space' - any other suggestions you have are always welcome). Only eat microwave popcorn and rice pudding.
Monday 2nd October - D-DAY. 'Quiet' meal with housemates as I have a 9am lecture on Tuesday's.
Tuesday 3rd October - See how many episodes I can get through of 21 Jump Street in one go. (Tagline = 'Too cool for school' = exclamation point times infinity)
Wednesday 4th October - Go to Tate Modern for an hour or two and then enjoy an afternoon filled with strawberry milkshakes and mutual dissing with me mate Carlos (that's not a euphamism).
Thursday 5th October - The Brother visiting? Maybe perhaps. We'll see.
Friday 6th October - Collecting my group of ragamuffin pals together and forcing them into the 80's disco night at the Camden Underworld where they will be required by (Sazz) Law to dance until their feet fall off (hopefully not literally. That'd make me be sick in my mouth). Getting train home at 5am. Collapsing in heap. Not emerging till Sunday afternoon for milk and a paper from the Shell Garage.
So that's birthday week sorted. Knowing me something will go horribly wrong by virtue of me planning this whole thing in advance.
P.S. Blog title stolen borrowed from Adam Buxton's piss take affectionate remake of the Dog's Trust adverts (go to April 27th entry). You must watch it. I guarentee you will lol. Lol to your hearts content.
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