Indira
Just back from my run - down to Battersea Park in the dark, round the lake and back. I've just re-started this recently after several years' hiatus and I've been increasing distance and freqency - 25 minutes now, once a week. My friend Bim is planning on doing the London Marathon this year, having done a number of triathlons and although I have no intention of doing the same, if I can get up to a certain level of fitness I can go and train with him. Or with Sukie my pathologist buddy, another person who can now outrun me by a considerable margin, having at one time had difficulty even running for a bus.
Returned to find the boy Muffin watching "American Idol" so I've come away to do this. The one thing I find most distressing about this household is the amount of junk TV watched. There's only so much ironic detachment and semiotic analysis you can bring to this sort of thing; after a while you just have to take it at face value, and I'd really rather not.
I've just remembered I used to keep paper diaries - a page of A4 every day in big stationers diaries which I still have sitting around in one or other of my homes. One of the reasons I stopped was that my girlfriends always eventually read what I'd written about them with disastrous consequences. So now I'm doing this, which everyone in the world can read (hopefully sufficiently anonymised). Interesting.
Anyway, I guess the reason I've started now may be to document the dalliance I may have commenced with a woman at my workplace; we'll call her Indira. She started coming into my office a few months ago and gently teasing me - "how late are you going to stay here tonight, shouldn't you be out drinking with your friends?" and I'd do my best to banter back, gaze longingly into her dark eyes and so on. Were we flirting? I didn't know. Then in November we moved office and she came in to see how my packing was getting on. She'd been putting all her stuff into boxes and was sweating slightly; her bare arm touched mine and it suddenly struck me that there might be something happening between us. Just before Christmas she asked me for help filling out an application form for a job elsewhere and I said I thought the best thing would be for her to take me out to lunch so we could go through it properly. She looked a little surprised but quickly said yes - she clearly didn't want anyone else to know so we met outside and caught a tube a couple of stops down the line, ate pasta and I helped her with the form.
I try and have a simple goal in mind on these occasions and this time it was to agree another lunch date without the form-filling. As it turned out she suggested this before I had a chance to and we went for Dim Sum just after Christmas in the lovely Royal China. Even the two hours we allowed ourselves sped by, we talked and talked, her about her parents, husband, children and community, and me, to be honest I can't remember. Again she took my planned next step for me and suggested an evening date so as to have more time to talk. As we left our hands touched just for a second - I had a feeling deliberately on both our parts. The evening date turned out to be another form-filling session, in a wine bar, but as we walked back to the tube she put her hand in my arm as I held the umbrella over us, and when my train came we seemed to each simultaneously decide to reach for the other's hand, and kissed on the cheek. A further exchange of e-mails (hers now typed in pink) and she agreed to have dinner with me at the Cinnamon Club, a very smart Indian restaurant in Westminster. I'm now waiting for her to let me know the date (she's told her husband that one day each week is just for her).
I think I know what's happening here, but I can't really believe it, it just seems too good to be true. I mean Indira is married, she has children, although I've heard rumours that her marriage wasn't that happy she hasn't complained much to me about it, she knows I'm attached, and yet she seems to want to spend considerable time in my company. This is a very attractive woman, by the way, intelligent, interesting, I would have thought somewhat out of my class, and yet we go out, we talk for hours without stiltedness or awkward silences, we look into each other's eyes and I could swear we're just looking for the right moment to kiss. It's like a dream. Perhaps she just wants to be friends. Well I'll take it one step at a time, try not to get too out on a limb, and we'll see.
The Iraqi elections are underway. 30 dead in polling station suicide attacks, not generally a problem in South London even in the rougher constituencies. The results won't be out until some time next month but apparently the turnout has been quite high. Very hard to disentagle facts from propaganda, although the truth normally emerges sooner or later. I'll be very interested to see what the new Iraqi government has to say about the continuing presence ofAmerican and British troops.
Returned to find the boy Muffin watching "American Idol" so I've come away to do this. The one thing I find most distressing about this household is the amount of junk TV watched. There's only so much ironic detachment and semiotic analysis you can bring to this sort of thing; after a while you just have to take it at face value, and I'd really rather not.
I've just remembered I used to keep paper diaries - a page of A4 every day in big stationers diaries which I still have sitting around in one or other of my homes. One of the reasons I stopped was that my girlfriends always eventually read what I'd written about them with disastrous consequences. So now I'm doing this, which everyone in the world can read (hopefully sufficiently anonymised). Interesting.
Anyway, I guess the reason I've started now may be to document the dalliance I may have commenced with a woman at my workplace; we'll call her Indira. She started coming into my office a few months ago and gently teasing me - "how late are you going to stay here tonight, shouldn't you be out drinking with your friends?" and I'd do my best to banter back, gaze longingly into her dark eyes and so on. Were we flirting? I didn't know. Then in November we moved office and she came in to see how my packing was getting on. She'd been putting all her stuff into boxes and was sweating slightly; her bare arm touched mine and it suddenly struck me that there might be something happening between us. Just before Christmas she asked me for help filling out an application form for a job elsewhere and I said I thought the best thing would be for her to take me out to lunch so we could go through it properly. She looked a little surprised but quickly said yes - she clearly didn't want anyone else to know so we met outside and caught a tube a couple of stops down the line, ate pasta and I helped her with the form.
I try and have a simple goal in mind on these occasions and this time it was to agree another lunch date without the form-filling. As it turned out she suggested this before I had a chance to and we went for Dim Sum just after Christmas in the lovely Royal China. Even the two hours we allowed ourselves sped by, we talked and talked, her about her parents, husband, children and community, and me, to be honest I can't remember. Again she took my planned next step for me and suggested an evening date so as to have more time to talk. As we left our hands touched just for a second - I had a feeling deliberately on both our parts. The evening date turned out to be another form-filling session, in a wine bar, but as we walked back to the tube she put her hand in my arm as I held the umbrella over us, and when my train came we seemed to each simultaneously decide to reach for the other's hand, and kissed on the cheek. A further exchange of e-mails (hers now typed in pink) and she agreed to have dinner with me at the Cinnamon Club, a very smart Indian restaurant in Westminster. I'm now waiting for her to let me know the date (she's told her husband that one day each week is just for her).
I think I know what's happening here, but I can't really believe it, it just seems too good to be true. I mean Indira is married, she has children, although I've heard rumours that her marriage wasn't that happy she hasn't complained much to me about it, she knows I'm attached, and yet she seems to want to spend considerable time in my company. This is a very attractive woman, by the way, intelligent, interesting, I would have thought somewhat out of my class, and yet we go out, we talk for hours without stiltedness or awkward silences, we look into each other's eyes and I could swear we're just looking for the right moment to kiss. It's like a dream. Perhaps she just wants to be friends. Well I'll take it one step at a time, try not to get too out on a limb, and we'll see.
The Iraqi elections are underway. 30 dead in polling station suicide attacks, not generally a problem in South London even in the rougher constituencies. The results won't be out until some time next month but apparently the turnout has been quite high. Very hard to disentagle facts from propaganda, although the truth normally emerges sooner or later. I'll be very interested to see what the new Iraqi government has to say about the continuing presence ofAmerican and British troops.
posted by Lost Tango at 1:38 PM
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