Bumbling

Ok, one mystery of the universe to be solved. A person could have all the intelligence in the world, life experience with the ability to manage tricky situations and being able to swim in the deep end (metaphorically). Why then is there always one person, every now and again, where you cannot fail to appear a complete and utter idiot. If there were ever a time where I wish I could have eaten my words, it would have been today!

Oh did I just say that most embarrassing thing! I think I have just completely failed to portray a calm, smooth and collected image. The problem is it happened once before, I thought it would not be an issue the second time, but no out pop the words and uncontrolled exuberance. So much for being in charge.

OK, I admit I am looking. Girls just get away with it better

My new found tool of the moment is swimming goggles. Although I am no where near Olympic level, I could have done Baywatch for real and my nickname at one stage was ‘fish’. I always used to hate wearing goggles, they get in the way and felt so unnatural; preferring to sport red eyes for hours after. But now as a woman with hormones, I have perverted the use of goggles. But yes, I am looking in the water as you swim past. I am sure all you guys do it too, but I think women have the unfair advantage where not only do we get away it better, but even when caught, the male ego, (I think) would only be flattered!

Normally, not many people catch my eye when I am swimming. Occasionally, there will be a ‘pretty boy’, and I might look. But they often spend five minutes at the side of the pool stretching, only to get in the fast lane of the pool and even after I have done 20 lengths, I will either have to slow down or overtake them.

But I think for the first time in ages, a male overtook me, in which case I had to look, as he was obviously genuinely fit and not just posing. And yes I was impressed and very naughty for peeking! But a little annoyed he overtook me, which is bound to bring out the competitor in me; I do not think he overtook again that in that session. 

I think someone should conduct poolside research on lewd glances. I am certain, although it is difficult to catch women peeking, that they certainly would have more to tally on the peek chart than men. 

The culture in Oxford

I have perhaps mis-judged university towns based on the time I spent in Cambridge a few years ago. I found Cambridge to be entirely dull, which the exception of a very clever French man who I lived with whilst working in Cambridge. I was invited to Oxford for the night by a friend to a house party. I was wondering what the rival city could be like, and in my view Oxford beats Cambridge hands down, unless anyone is willing to prove me wrong in the future. I arrived just at the start of the party and decided to be as sociable as possible, so I walked up to the first group of men and greeted them. I started with the polite custom to shake their hands and to kiss each person on the cheek. Except, I started with perhaps the shyest person in the group, upon aiming for his cheek, he ducked away, in an almost hysterical Matrix style back-flip. It was certainly not the response I was expecting. But unfortunately for this person, it is in my nature to then be very playful with shy people.

I decided to stay and introduce myself to this group, all very intelligent, and having not studied for a PHD, I was the odd one out and could not join in their discussions on their research, courses and their Viso. I am certainly not jealous, I have studied enough at masters level, and you have to live life. But, I thought to myself, I am not having people coming to a party and talking about research. Time to play some tricks! Fortunately, at that point I was introduced to various people and a Polish girl who came leaping in and sent me crashing to the ground for the first of three times that night. Yet, she was the perfect companion to play with and kick off the party, good timing, I will tell her that when I speak to her next, when sober. But back to the first person I mentioned, I also thought there is no way he is keeping his coat on and hiding away all night. So I took it off, stole it, ran away and placed it in one of the bedrooms. Very childish I know, but parties are not for grown-ups. I managed to get the whole group dancing at that point and pretty soon the house was full. Although I did have to smack his bottom when I found he had put his coat back on later that night. Of course, the coat was stolen away again. I also could not resist winding him up for the rest of the night.

Rules for any house party appear to be; you must drink some kind of punch, expect to meet a person called James, and expect to queue to visit the bathroom. It is also great fun to see how groups of different nationalities get on together at a party. Polish girls are so much fun to be around; I found a new partner in crime and I love their enthusiasm. Although my new dancing partner was a bit too sweaty from the result of her enthusiasm for me to dance just too close with her. Considering she was responsible for bruising my back, I found her at the end of the night asleep with everything going on around her.  As I was sober, I managed to have some conversations as well. Even for this party, I could not resist putting on the red lipstick, and tonguing my hair. It felt good when my little hobby was comprehended and appreciated and I could share my love of pin-up with men and a few women. But mostly men, much to my amusement, as one gentleman became over amorous. His attentions were superseded by another who could handle his masculinity a little better. I exchanged contacts with a few people, and it was rather pleasant to receive a message the next day where I was referred to as sunshine, so in spite of the one person I scared, I have made another person smile. Unknowingly, due to the lack of options of places to stay I was staying in perhaps the best place in town, I also received another message wishing I would be very happy in my “fancy smancy” hotel. Another great thing about parties is to find out the after effect on your voice, which equates to Marge Simpson on helium. To think I am going to another concert tonight, time to practise silence.

My only regret is that I am not returning to Oxford shortly, as I found the following day, Michael Palin is paying a visit to a book store to sign his latest book ‘New Europe’.  If any one can get hold of a signed copy, eternal appreciation is guaranteed, although meeting the man in the flesh would be better, where is Mephistophilis, when you need him?

French sophistication.

I received a compliment today at the strangest of times. It may be hard to imagine someone like me being un-lady like, but certainly at the gym, I do not wear heels, stockings and corsets. Lest for health and safety practices the gym insist upon, as much as the work out would not be very effective.

Post-gym session and I am very worn out and certainly natural and fresh faced. I start to walk towards the changing rooms and a male member of the gym greets me and asks, “is that it for the day?” We then engaged in a polite conversation, detailing our workouts and the benefits of cardiovascular versus weight training. Then he said he only asked me over because he was sure I was French. I looked French was his claim.

Now, I understood that this was meant as his compliment to me, and maybe a chat-up line. I guess if I am in the gym and look O.K, then I can only look better outside of the gym, might have been his thoughts. Of course, it is in my nature to ask why he thought that was the case.  I always regarded myself as very English, clean and fresh, the rosy, pale faced type. His response was my face and the eyes, and the figure, for which I should keep visiting the gym, in order to not let it go. All lovely things to say, especially if you want a person to keep visiting the gym. Yet, I did feel a little dented because I had prided myself on being very English. Sometimes people assume I have an Irish look about me, which I class as very similar, except the Irish have something more bewitching about them.

I was very lucky to be thought of in such a way at the most embarrassing and sweaty of occasions. But I will always carry the flag for the British eccentricity which is certainly an equal match for French sophistication. Bizarrely, my last name is French.

The year of the concert, coming to an end.

Another week, and the year of the concert was topped by one of the best live acts of the year, the Foo Fighters. They were supported by the very ironic and interesting act, Serj Tankian, the album is worth purchasing if you have a curious nature. (Please note I am not an employee of EMI or any other record company). Support acts are always fun to watch, even if they are terrible, it is chance to see un-promoted acts and to be introduced to new music. The year of the concert primarily emerged from my competitive nature to see more live events than close friends. I enjoy all live music for the reason that you can switch off and merely refer to the senses and what is going on around you at the time.

Equally, I enjoy the theatre and will make the following year, 2008, the year of the theatre. However the issue with the theatre is that I would not be the best date to pick, I would be too busy trying to analyse the play, rather than just watch it, to pay my dates enough attention. Only very understanding friends need apply.