The Holiday Romance Returns

I have a splitting headache, I’m absolutely knackered, and I’m in bed alone on Valentine’s day.

Let me start from the beginning.

The work conference-call was fab, and I have so much to report on that…but not just now. Instead, I’m blogging to have a good ol’ moan.

After the conference call, I looked it up and discovered that there’s a big new Marks and Spencer’s in Dundee. The plan was to pop over, get a bottle of champers and some cakes for V-Day with Pete.

Firstly,Dundee isn’t as small as I thought it was. It took me a bloody hour to walk to M&S, and I had to cross the most ridiculous set of ring roads to get to there. And it’s not like I was the only person crossing these massive roads and roundabouts, because that was the only way to get to the other side. (It’s like I’m a chicken or something. Why did the dozy ex-intern cross the ring-road? To get to the other side.) Anyway, I went down to the Markies, and I walked by a little M&S as I went to the big M&S. I didn’t stop at the little one, because I kept thinking, ‘It’s Valentine’s Day. They’ll be out of stock with champers. I’ll go to the big one’. I finally got to the big one and I snagged the last bottle of pink cava. And, because it took me an hour to get there, and I had to get home to drop everything off, and back to work all in a lunch break, so I took a taxi from the Markies.

Once I got home, I  put the champers in the fridge, the fancy cream cakes on the counter, and some candles I bought around the house. The plan was to pick up Pete from the train station — he’ll have had a long day – and we’ll have a quiet romantic night in.

I raced back to work after dropping the stuff off at the flat, and had a fairly good rest of the day. But as I said, that’s a different post.

Pete was supposed to be getting into Dundee not much before six, so I headed down to meet him after work.

Now, remember what happened with HarryPotter at the train station? That’s more what I expected to happen with Pete.

Once again, my preconceived ideas of train station reunions were incorrect.

I stood in the same place as I did when I was waiting for HP. I saw Pete come through the doors and towards the barricades. It sounds a bit twee, but my heart did go pitter patter. I was all nervous and gitty. He had his silly rucksack with the Canadian badge and his guitar strapped to his back.

 He went through the barricades, and walked right past. I couldn’t believe it! I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, and he was  surprised at first, then said, ‘Oh, I didn’t recognise you. Wow, I’ve never seen you this made up.’

I should explain, doing the whole Gap Summer things tends to put one in the ‘au natural’ frame of mind. Everyone around you is hair tussled, glowing tanned, sandaled toes and wearing flowy linen-type clothes. While travelling I joined in the Gap Summer fashion phenomenon. (Plus, I know it’s a stereotype, but it’s a true one. Australian, New Zealand and American women pull off the less is more natural look. I’m sure they spend hours and fortunes to get that look, but there’s something so easy breezy about women from those countries. They seem to pop out of bed in the morning, throw on a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, put their hair in a ponytail, and look fab. But I’m massively digressing.) Anyway, once back in Britain, I kind of went back to the full foundation, eye make-up, hair straightener routine. Or more accurately, half completed face of make-up, and I’m lucky my skirt’s not tucked into the back of my tights, because I’m running late for work fashion regime.

So, Pete finally realised it was me, gave me a massive hug and a little kiss, and said, ‘Right. Where we off to?’

I mentioned that I thought he’d be tired, and we could spend a night in. Yeah, that’s not what he was thinking. We ended up at this student pub. It was heaving, but because he had a guitar everyone thought he was the talent for the evening. That perhaps he was going to pull a stool out his rucksack and start playing acoustic versions of Mika. It wasn’t too long before we had a crowd around us at the table, and he was holding court.

I mean, I love Pete for this. He’s so sociable, in a way that I’ve never known in anyone else. He’s kind and sweet, and he gets on with everyone. He can have a conversation about anything, and he always puts people at ease. But, well, I was kind of hoping for tonight to be for just he and I. Just like the Pete train station renunion, I was wrong.

The pub finally closed (I’ve never before wished it was 11pm close, like in the good old days) and we headed home. But, going up the stairs ahead of us was PostPhD and a couple friends of hers. She spotted us, Pete spotted them, and we were sitting about her flat. They were smoking, Pete was drinking wine, and I’d never felt so cock-blocked in my entire life.

There was loads of chat about film and multimedia. And the new world of comedic cinema, and they talked about this guy who’s the new Woody Allen, and they all nodded a lot while talking about him. I really don’t know. I wanted to go home and take Pete with me.

So, I tried the, ‘Yawn, yawn, I’m mega tired and I’ve got work tomorrow. I really should head to bed.’ I thought Pete would come with me. But no. I was wrong AGAIN!

PoshPhD and Friends begged him to stay, just a little longer. He acquiesced. Told me to get on to bed. Get me some sleep. PoshPhD suggested that after I open the door to my flat, that I just pop my keys through her letter box. That way Pete can have them to let himself in, and not wake me up. Oh, aren’t they so lovely. Thinking of my welfare.

Pete said he’d be just behind me. He said he wouldn’t be too long. Well, that was two hours ago. My bedroom wall shares a wall with PoshPhD. Granted, it’s a thick stone wall, but a wall all the same, and if I put my ear to it I can  hear them still talking. God this sucks.

I’m knackered, but I can’t sleep, because I’m waiting for him to come to bed. Or maybe he doesn’t want to come to bed, and I’ve made a big thing of this, and he’s thinking ‘Oh that silly girl thinks we’re in a relationship or something, and doesn’t she look hideous all made up’. And I’ve got it all wrong and Pete’s just a mate coming to visit, and I’ve made assumptions that I shouldn’t have made. Oh, and I ate both Valentine’s Day cream cakes.

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2 responses to “The Holiday Romance Returns

  1. I feel your pain here immensely.

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