Shallow dating and big chills

Woo hoo! Have got tickets for the Big Chill sorted! Very excited, my first festival that i've actually had the money in the bank to be able to pay for! Plus have lovely people to go with! Tres exciting!

Much happier now I have something to look forward too. Think that's always the way. Was speaking to a mate on Sunday and he's talking about getting a big group together on August Bank holiday to go surfing down in my ancestral home of Cornwall. Now that would be cool, as haven't spent enough time with the boys over the past couple of years. Now we've all been brought back together by the "Wedding of The Year" this has given us the perfect opportunity to party more!

This weekend I also spread the online dating bug to my recently single friend who's organising the surf holiday. Didn't put him on the same site i'm on though, that would be a bit wierd (and between you and me i'm not sure he meets the criteria ;-)!

So we set him up on Mysinglefriend.com which i'd heard a lot about. I was obviously the single friend who had to describe him, which felt a little awkward with him looking over my shoulder! Plus the fact we dated for a few months when I was 17. But that's all water under the bridge now... however the boys do love to remind us of the past...at the wrong moments!

The idea is a really good one though and I kinda wish I was on there now. However i've my hands full with the other three sites i'm on (i'm not paying for all three, i'm just putting on free profiles to see which is best...)! And let me tell you, it's an interesting snapshot of what kind of single guys are out there. And not all of it's pretty. In fact, i've been sifting through a lot of mingers! Now I know that's not a nice thing to say, but this online dating thing makes you really shallow! It's awful that i'm judging people by their photos. I know it is. But I can't stop doing it!

Bad Ellie. Bad, bad, bad. Anyway, i've found at least one or two hotties which is just enough to keep me on these sites, in the hope that they might find me attractive....and if i'm judging then i'm sure the guys out there are doing it right back.

Gosh, dating's cruel!

editing

I promise I'll go through all my posts and edit them soon! their r plentie of smeling misteaks and grummatical errors, i'm sure.

My fault for writing blogs in me lunch hour.

I feel ppfffffttttt...

Bad hour maybe. Bad day perhaps. But no, not really either of these. I just don't know. And that is the problem. Perhaps something new is needed...but i'm not sure what.

Grrrrrr i frustrate myself so much. I know what it is. But i can't bring myself to say it. And the few people reading this don't need to hear it. Cos they've already heard it.

Time to shut up and get a grip.

Lucky lady

So, today i've realised that i've been living with two of my lovely housemates for almost a year. When I think back to how I was a year ago I can't believe how much more contented I actually am now. Life had thrown me a few curve balls at the beginning of last year, which meant I was out of a job and couldn't afford my rent. I ended crashing on my crazy portuguese friends sofa(she's crazy in a good way and was a life saver at the time)and was doing some god awful temp work which barely gave me enough money to buy the bus fare to get to the handful of interviews I was getting. Luckily that all changed when i joined the company i'm with now.

When I moved (into what we now lovingly call the Rat Haus) last year, it was a relief to be in a job that had a future and in a house where i might have something in common with the people living there. However I didn't see much of the third housemate and i've been told that's a good thing. She soon moved out a couple of months later and us survivors were left with the task of finding someone new to take her room.

Easier said than done. Turns out there are a lot of weirdos out there. Luckily we did manage to find one young lady who is just the right amount of weird and just the right amount of sane. And for that i'm very glad.

Now the atmosphere is great and I can't wait to get home. I feel very comfortable and the four of us have grown a lot closer. Especially after enduring a nasty landlord, damp and rats. Before Christmas we all moved house, en masse, to a lovely house up the road. Sans rodents. We have a landlady who actually fixes things when they're broken, doesn't shout abuse down the phone and generally is pleasant to deal with. WE have a house that isn't falling apart. It's also a lot less studenty.

Basically i lucked out. Thank you ladies for being so good to me!

(there you go Jay, you haven't just had a cameo, you've been a feature! ;-)

Yo-Yo

I've decided my emotional state is very much on a par with a Yo-Yo. And i've never been able to work those out so this doesn't bode well.

My day didn't start well, I fell flat on my face on the walk from the station to the office. I feel I may sue Tower Hamlets council for their lively pavements...

Seriously though, because of all the building work happening around the new Heron Tower the pavements are all churned up. I love the fact that I fell flat on my face, smashing my knee on the ground and no one offered me a hand. Granted I did jump up pretty quickly but then realising my knee had taken such a bashing I had to lean against a wall. However i'd probably have been more embarrassed if someone had stopped for me. Ground, open wide and swallow me up.

On a brighter note I noticed my Ex commented on a photo of me on Facebook. He still thinks i'm beautiful it seems. That anyone would call me beautiful still amazes me. It's kinda bitter sweet coming from him though. This is the reason I deleted him from The Book of Face. Unfortunately we share friends so sometimes there's just no getting away from him. I've done pretty well though I think, although when he sends me random emails I do find it hard not to respond. Like the other week, he said something that really pissed me off. Perhaps that was his reason for sending it, he knew he'd get a reaction. Anyway, no one wants to hear about my stagnant love life. I will be going speed dating next weekend though!

Bring. It. On!

Not as happy, but blonde!

As always, spoke to soon! Not that I'm unhappy just a bit confused and slightly disappointed. I think I've been rejected but have no idea why! Rejection isn't easy when you've been dumped fairly recently. Oh well, enough of that. The dating game's not always straight forward. There's plenty more fish blah blah blah.

On a happier note, I experienced life as a blonde this weekend. And yes, blondes do have more fun (at least they do at house parties after a bottle of vodka...).

I went to a mates "bling vs. Chav" house party on Saturday night and had loads of fun picking out a costume. It's unfortunate I returned home at 7am on Sunday without most of it.

My costume consisted of some great fake silver heart shaped earrings with "love" written in the middle of them, a blonde wig with sunglasses nestled in it, hot pants, various silver/diamante necklaces, silly silver shoes, pink nails and wild make up. What a stunner! I'm not quite sure what I was thinking, wearing hot pants, but after a bottle of wine it seemed like a great idea!

There was dancing, drinking games, posing and someone being sick in the garden. Wouldn't be a good party without that!

So, the question is now...should I go blonde for real?!

Answers on a postcard please! (or comment on the bottom of this, which ever's easiest!)

Sunshine and rainy days

I have to say that I feel a little bit happier now than I have of late. I don't know if it's just because the sun has started to shine and Spring is in the air, or if the clouds have started to lift over my recent doom and gloom of the heart. Perhaps it's both. I feel a little more in control which helps. My emotions are in check for the moment. This could change with the wind of course, but right now, this minute, i'm fine.

Yesterday I was told I treated the whole dating thing quite light heartedly. She then back-tracked and said she didn't mean it to sound like she thought I didn't care, just that I was quite calm about the whole process. She's also started dating again and she's not exactly embracing the experience! I was glad to hear that's what she thought of me, and my approach to the whole dating scenario. Even if deep down it's not really the case! To be perceived that way is what i want. And people do say the more you act a certain way the more like that way you become. If that makes sense...?

The past couple of months (i think it's three now)have been a challenge. And a mind fuck. But with the help of my friends, who did physically have to scrape me off the floor at one point, I've managed to get my life back and have started to kick the habit, the Ex. I know I've got a long way to go, but I'm doing OK. I've been on a few dates and have realised that I'm an interesting, easy to talk to kinda gal. Sorry if that sounds like I'm blowing my own trumpet (and for those reading this who know me, you'll probably be cheering and clapping your hands at me praising myself!)but I've been made to feel like I'm neither of those things at some point.

So, onwards and upwards. I'm moving on, getting on and attempting to get back in the saddle, as terrifying as that is. It's probably a little bit soon, but I'm not starting any big, scary relationships right now. Just meeting new people and trying to remember what fun feels like. Bring on the singles nights, speed dating and blind dates! Woohoo!

Sunday in Paris

Sunday was spent in rainy Paris. The weather didn't dampen my enthusiasm for all things French though. I informed Francky that I wanted Chocolat Chaud and Moules avec Frites at some point before I left.

We jumped on the Metro and decided to go to the Louvre. I had never been or seen the famous pyramid. We were hoping to go inside but a huge queue had formed outide in the rain and as i was running low on money we decided against it. Instead we walked down to the Obelisque de Luxor and then went and stood on the Pont de Concorde, watching boats full of tourists float underneath us.

We then headed to the Sacre Coeur. I had visited this area ten years ago but had forgotten about the steps. I must have erased them from my memory. Francky, ever the show off, half ran up to the top. I started off not far behind him but soon flagged. I was determined (and i'm very competitive)to get up there without stopping, which I managed. He wasn't wearing heels though so i'm sure if it was an even playing field it would have been a closer race...I guess we'll never know!

With wobbly legs and a flushed face we sought the quiet sanctuary of the Basilica. Churches and cathedrals scare me a bit. I worry that I might burst into flame when I step across the threshold. It was very peaceful though, with lots of candles and I couldn't help but admire the stained glass windows.

We left the Sacre Coeur and walked around Montmarte, admiring the street artists. As we sat down outside a street cafe and ordered my long awaited hot chocolate the sun came out from behind the clouds. The hot chocolate was amazing, not too sweet but creamy and velvety.

Next on our stop was L'arc de Triomphe. Two nights before Francky did some crazy french driving around it. It really is a free-for-all and you have to have balls just to dive in and out of it! I told Francky that the last time I was in Paris it was with school and we were on a coach. The driver managed to get on the roundabout but we went round five times until he had the courage to get off!

Francky and I then walked down the Champs Elysee, window shopping. We almost got run over. There was a lot of gesticulation and animated voices but no one was hurt. All a bit melodramatic if you ask me.

Next we went to the Jewellery Quarter. It was a Sunday so Cartier, Dior etc were closed. Damn. Francky had thought this one through! Was nice to look through all the windows though, and I bought some fancy chocolates for my housemates. I am the most considerate of housemates!

After our day mooching around Paris, Francky took me to Leon, a restaurant in Montparnasse which specialises in Moules avec Frites. I was a happy girl. I'd only ever eaten Moules Mariniere before, but in Leon there was a huge choice. I plumped for Moules Ardennaise - white wine, creme fraiche, mushrooms and bacon. It was Delicious, especially with the Belgium beer as recommended by the waiter and the forever full bowl of frites. Anyone who knows me know my love of all things potatoey...free refills of chips was a big thing for me!

After a mixture of wine, beer and moules I was full and a little bit tipsy.
"I need to take a photo of the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles!" I exclaimed to Francky.

We jumped on the bus and Francky put his arm around me. We kissed. I know, I wasn't meant to, but i was just a bit caught up in the moment. As we stood outside the Ecole Militaire I star-jumped in front of the tower waiting for it's moment to start sparkling. Francky took my photo but unfortunately it didn't come out as well as hoped. I played around with it and managed to get a few out of focus (yet still pretty) shots and was content with that.

Tired and happy we went back to Francky's room and curled up on the sofa to see what was on TV. Amazingly Lethal Weapon 4 was on. In French. I enjoyed it as much as I would have if it had been shown in English. More so in fact, as Francky was trying to explain Mel Gibson's jokes, it addd a whole other dimension to the film!

We both managed to watch the movie without falling asleep, then decided it was time for an early night. My Eurostar left just after six the next morning which meant we had to be up at five. Francky tucked me in for the last time. He was a gentleman. His attention and tenderness towards me all weekend had been well received and even when i had made it clear to him that we wouldn't be going down memory lane he didn't stop his tactile behaviour, but he didn't make things uncomfortable either. He had taken care of me and made sure i wasn't without anything.

Saturday in France

After scrambled eggs, bacon and tea drank from a cereal bowl, Francky and i got ready to leave for another riding adventure. After braving another odd shower experience and watching Madonna's Confessions DVD, we set off for Rambouillet.

I had convinced myself that the snails I'd eaten the night before had made me feel funny and spent the first half an hour in the car wondering if I'd make it to our destination without having an embarrassing stop on the hard shoulder. Luckily, after a gulp or two of fresh air and a slurp of coke i began to feel less nauseous.

Rambouillet is about an hours drive south west of Paris. It's an area covered in forest and is very pretty. Unfortunately, heavy grey clouds pursued us and as we reached the stable yard there was a definite chill in the air.

This time I was riding a bay horse called Revenu and Francky had Oulaf, a huge chestnut gelding. Revenu was a bit of pain as he seemed very head shy and wouldn't let me use a brush on his face. He also liked to paw the ground, which is a habit I'm not keen on. I like it when my horses hooves are all on the ground when i am. I'm not so bothered when I'm in the saddle.

Francky told me we were aiming for a 3 hour ride. As i mounted Revenu i almost yelped out loud. My physical riding fitness had deteriorated greatly as i hadn't ridden for about a year. My seat bones were very sore, the inside of my calves were bruised as were my thighs and my arms were aching due to Urhold's strong head on the beach the day before. I didn't want to complain though, i was so grateful to be able to ride in such fantastic scenery. I rode through the pain and after about an hour it seemed to have ebbed.

It started to rain as we cantered along the sandy trails in the forest. Revenu had a surprisingly nice gait in canter but i wasn't fond of his trot. He also had a habit of throwing his head which would off balance him and myself. Not only was concentration needed for balance but also for navigating the trails. Luckily I've had quite a lot of practice at this sort of riding. It did involve a lot of gripping with my legs though, which was pretty painful at times.

I was very aware that i had been rather quiet on our ride. Not nearly as talkative as i had been. I tried to explain to Francky that sometimes I'm just a bit introverted.

For me, riding has always been a source of meditation. I let my mind focus on the riding and then it wanders around without my knowledge. I quite like riding out on my own, there's something very comforting about being alone with only your horse for company and nature all around you. You notice so many things and can really develop a relationship with your horse. Of course if things go wrong it's not so fun, like if your horse bolts and you get left behind, stuck in a tree. That's happened once or twice to me!

After our rather damp but exciting ride, we got back in the car and i promptly fell asleep. I woke to find Francky's coat draped over me. All the fresh air had taken it out of me. Francky also felt tired and i felt rather guilty for falling asleep and not keeping him company but he insisted on me having a nap.

That evening was in stark contrast to the previous night's escapades. I was grateful as i was finding it difficult to walk without looking like John Wayne. We decided to stay in and watch Last of the Mohicans. In English. Francky said he'd seen it so many times that he didn't need the subtitles. As we ate pasta with ham and drank Rose wine i noticed Francky's head begin to nod. I was on the sofa and he was on a chair. After watching his head sway back and forth rather dangerously i woke him and asked him to swap seats. He complained in French but i insisted. As he curled up and fell back to sleep i watched Daniel Day-Lewis battle the baddies. I shed a few tears when his brother was slayed. I was glad Francky didn't see. I'm such a wuss with movies.

Friday Night in Paris

I managed to clamber out of the car with aching muscles and Francky took me up to his place. Well, his room actually. It was a little like University Halls of Residence, but Francky's room was also a shrine to all things Western, in particular Wyoming.

The room was crammed with paraphernalia; flags, spurs, horseshoes, statuettes. Every available space was covered with bits and bobs from his travels. A single bed was under the eaves, a one ring hob was squeezed in the corner and there was a sofa covered in North American blankets with a Numnah and saddle on each arm. Photos covered a pin board, and I was surprised to see that I had made it on to the wall of fame. A plasma screen TV was perched in one corner, looking oddly out of place.

We both needed to shower and get changed. Now this was a rather odd experience. The barracks are men only, the bathroom was down the hall and I wasn't allowed to be in the bathroom on my own. Those were the rules. I didn't ask why and now feel i should've done...I ended up having a shower in a cubicle next to my French companion. With him serenading me. Badly!

As we got ready to go out Francky rang a few friends (all women) asking what they were up to and if they wanted to come out dancing. He was also ringing them to find out the address of the salsa club he planned on taking me later. In the end only one girl came out with us, Beatrice. Francky had been reluctant to ring her as he had avoided her calls for two weeks. And she wasn't very happy about it.

Francky explained their relationship to me. She wasn't his girlfriend. She had a boyfriend. And a lover. And then him. Basically if neither were around she'd call Francky and complain about both her boyfriend and her lover. Francky and Beatrice would inevitably end up in bed together.

A bit greedy, i thought!

Anyway, we all met up in Saint Michel and went to an amazing fondue restaurant. I tried some of Francky's l'Escargot (with my eyes closed) which were just like eating chewy garlic. Francky, ever the gentleman, wouldn't let me pay. Beatrice didn't get the same kindness, it has to be said... I'm not sure she was bothered though.

After the restaurant we went to the club. It was small, loud and sweaty. And everyone was dancing. It had a great atmosphere and after we fought our way to the bar, i found myself being propelled on to the dance floor. It seemed that French guys were just as eager to dance as the women were. In fact, everyone on the floor had a dance partner. Francky grabbed me and swung me around. To be honest, he did everything possible to cop a feel. And I let him. Well! He did buy me dinner, and he was a good dancer!

When I needed to catch a breath and wipe the perspiration off my brow (girls don't sweat), we managed to find a spot to sit. Beatrice had been accosted by some short fellow and they were still dancing. As she came back to the table, Francky asked if i wanted to dance again. I said i needed a few more minutes so he pulled Beatrice on to the floor instead. I noticed that there was much less groping going on. In fact, if possible, he looked a little uncomfortable. As i began to people watch i guy came up to my table and i think he asked me to dance, i'm not quite sure. I shook my head. He persisted. Beatrice grinned at me.
"ok" I said, not entirely sure what i was agreeing to.

We danced for about two minutes before the song ended and Francky cut in. He seemed a little protective, but i was glad. I'd rather have had Francky groping me than some complete stranger!

As the night drew on we danced to Salsa, Cuban music, Caribbean dance music a bit of French RnB (as far as i could make out) and we hardly drank a thing. Dancing was more important than drinking it seemed.

We left before the lights came on and I was happy as i had begun to flag. I had been up almost 24 hours and had been more physically active in those 24 hours than i'd been all week.

Francky drove us home, dropping Beatrice outside the Moulin Rouge. She doesn't live there, it was just that the traffic was bad! The neon lights and Sex shops entertained me on the drive back to Francky's.

As i got into the single bed he tucked me up tight and planted kisses all over my neck. He knew that was all he was allowed. I'd made it pretty clear earlier in the night when he was girating against me. He slept on the sofa and i, rather guilty, slept in his bed, dreaming of dancing, beaches and the Eiffel Tower.

Friday in Normandy

As I stepped off the Eurostar at 9am on Friday I wondered if I'd recognise my friend Francky, who I hadn't seen for about five years. I needn't have worried. As I passed through the exit I spotted his hat. You see Francky is a Cow-Boy, a French Cow-Boy. He wears the full outfit, much to the amazement of many Parisians. He frequently gets odd looks on the Metro. Francky loves the attention and even if he wasn't wearing his cow-boy get up, people would still be staring.

I met Francky in 2004 on a ranch in Wyoming. Since then I'd promised to visit him in Paris. This weekend I decided it was time I took him up on his offer.

So on Friday morning I found myself being given the guided tour around Ecole Militaire where Francky is part of the French Cavalry. The stables were full of beautiful horses, all cared for immaculately. It was clear (even with my basic knowledge of French) that Francky is well respected amongst his peers, as they all stopped to say hello and he gave them instructions for the day.

After my tour and a quick cup of tea we jumped in the car and headed out of Paris, to Normandy. Francky switched on the CD player and Cotton Eye Joe blasted out of the stereo. I couldn't help but giggle.

As we got towards Deaville, Francky started to tell me, in his broken English, about the 6 years he had spent there. He told me a story about jumping out of the local girls school window, narrowly escaping getting caught by one of the Nuns. This is the first of many stories involving Francky's conquests. He's a true Frenchman with a great love of women. I should know, I was one of his victims all those years ago in the Wild West...!

We arrived at a run down, typically French farmhouse and I was introduced to Mr Baccush and his wife. I was mistaken for an Italian. I have no idea why. From what I could gather Mr Baccush asked the Cow-Boy if i could ride well. The answer was yes, very well. I smiled at Francky and Mr Baccush asked in a heavy accent "you jump?" "Oui" I answered, as this is pretty much all I can say en Francais. That seemed to be all the clarification he needed.

We rode out towards the coast in the sunshine. My horse was called Urhold and Francky remembers him from years gone by, when he was working at the farm and teaching adults and children to ride. I was astounded to hear that Urhold was 24 years old. He didn't look it and certainly didn't feel like an old horse as we reached the beach and began to canter. It took all my strength to hold him back.

The weather was perfect for riding on the sand, with blue sky, bright sunshine and a cool breeze. With the wind in my ears and surf spray in my face we galloped along the deserted beach. I was grinning so much my cheeks hurt. As we gave the horses their heads a few solitary people watched as we swept down the shoreline. The horses began to race each other. My elderly steed and I won, of course, much to Francky's amusement.

Sadly as the horses began to tire and the sun lost it's battle against the oncoming clouds, we returned to the stables. Dominique, Mr Baccush's son, helped me hose Urhold down and started talking to me in French.

"Je ne comprends pas..." I say sheepishly.
"ah, Italien?"

Erm no, I'm still not an Italian... I told him I was English and he started to pick out odd phrases he knew. "Good horse, bad dog, London and pretty" seemed to be his words of choice. I smiled and nodded. His English was far better than my French!

After some long-winded goodbyes, we climbed back in the car and started on our journey back to Paris. Conversation became easier as Francky became more confident with speaking English. He told me about his family, his brothers and sister. We touched on Teresa, his American girlfriend, who sadly passed away suddenly last year. She had a sick heart, he tells me.

We talked about his life, how he feels like his friends only ring him when they want a shoulder to cry on, and i asked him who he called when he needed comfort. He tells me he prefers to be on his own. He's seen three psychiatrists, one he didn't like, the second was too expensive and the third...well she was a pretty girl. Needless to say she became more than his psychiatrist! Francky asked about me and my life and I told him the watered down version. For some reason I don't like talking about myself that much.

We made good time and as the sun began to set we entered the beautiful city of Paris. I gazed out of the window at the Seine, and at the passers by, wondering why I hadn't come to visit sooner. We stopped in traffic and the Eiffel Tower illuminated as darkness descended on the city. The Tower started to do it's sparkly dance as a Country and Western song played on Francky's car stereo, "My baby left me and she stole my heart too".

Change

I went back to my roots this weekend and spent some time with Ma and Pa in the countryside. I also dressed as a rabbit for a friends fancy dress party. It was nice to go back but sometimes I'd rather not as leaving is always quite tough. Going back also makes me realise what i've missed. It's silly really as I know life moves on and things change, but in my head, home is home and things should be as I left them!

It's been particularly emotional as Mum and Dad broke the news that they've accepted an offer on our family home. I've lived in that house since I was 3 weeks old, so the fact that it won't be ours anymore really hit me. I moved out a long time ago, i haven't spent more than a few months there since I was 19. But it's always been there. We've been talking about this moment for a while, so it's not a shock that mum and dad are selling. But the reality of it is quite different.

I know a house is just bricks and mortar and that memories contained within it can be taken elsewhere. I know that Mum and Dad are doing the right thing by selling up and moving away, as it's been their dream for years. I know situations change and i have always been supportive of their decision. But selling the place I grew up in, which has seen 25 years of birthdays, Christmases, parties, arguements, broken hearts, happiness, tears, love and laughter...is going to be hard when i have to say that final goodbye.