Okay, so as I was saying in Part I, I was having a terrible week which began to turn around when my new, work-affiliated blog was Freshly Pressed. I thought it was a strange choice, since it’s a new blog, and there isn’t much on it. I hadn’t even started trying to get anyone to read it yet. But I was absolutely over the moon to be recognised for my writing.
It came just at the right time as well, what with how I’ve decided to try to start doing some freelance work, and writing seems to be the most straight forward thing to get in to.
I can’t freelance my day job because I’d need a licence, and insurance, and be putting myself in direct competition with my employer, which would be futile and get me fired.
But being Freshly Pressed gave me the confidence boost I needed to crack on and bid for a few things. And it worked. I got some paid writing work. It’s just a couple of articles, and it won’t pay very much, but it’s given me much-needed reassurance that plan isn’t entirely insane.
I was so busy being excited about it all that I nearly missed my train to Cambridgeshire. By the time a realised I just had enough time to through some stuff into my cool new weekend bag, spray some dry shampoo through for my hair, and rush off to the station to pick up my tickets then hop on the train.
I’d reserved my seat for the outward journey but, as per usual, it was already occupied. Or at least, it had a bunch of somebody’s stuff piled in it.
The owner arrived half a minute later. He apologised. He also explained that the air conditioning was broken in the carriage we were in, but he’d just been in the adjacent one, where it was cooler, and scoped out four empty seats around a table. He invited me join him.
I figured I might as well, since I most definitely wasn’t dressed for hot weather.
We spent the next three hours chatting, and flirting, and the journey eventually becoming our first date.
We’re seeing each other again in London on Friday, where I’m half expecting him to try to kill me. Because he seems far too good to be true.
This guy’s smart, he’s funny, he’s charming. He’s lived all over the world. He has a good job, his own home. He’s does triathlons, he’s really good-looking. He’s really easy to talk too, we got on like a house on fire.
I must be missing something here. There has to be a catch. I don’t meet guys like this.
I do concede that that may be in no small way related to the infrequency of my leaving my home for anywhere other than the office or the homes of people I already know, but still…
I never would have thought I’d ever describe myself as having a wonderful train journey.
And I did.
Anyway, we eventually came to my stop, and I got off the train and caught a cab to my hotel, while the guy carried on to home.
I was supposed to be meeting a friend for an early lunch – we were then both going to go to a third friend’s engagement party in the evening – but she text me just as I got there to say that she couldn’t make it. So I got checked in, took a lovely long shower, and changed into something more appropriate for the weather, which was simply gorgeous.
Then I went for a stroll around the tiny little town in, and enjoyed a cream tea beside the river while soaking up the bright, beautiful sunshine, which is where I took all the pictures.
Well, apart from the picture of the bag, I took that just now, in my apartment.
The engagement part was fantastic as well. Almost perfect.
The venue was small and intimate.
There was a balcony right on the river, which is where we spent the majority of the evening, as every time we dipped back inside to the bar we started melting.
We watched the sun setting, and when it grew dark you could see all the stars and pick out the constellations.
It was a really nice group of people. Everyone there had been invited because the couple really wanted them to be there, not just to make up the numbers.
The two sets of friends had never met but got along famously. Even planning on how we were all going to get to the wedding together, and descend on the happy couple en masse over Christmas, as they’re moving abroad.
The only glitch being when the soon-to-be bride and groom, having drunk too much, decided that this would be a good to time to break up for a couple of hours – I’d love to tell you about it, but if she ever found out she’d kill me.
The party went on until the early hours.
The next day, despite the previous night’s plans to go punting, everyone was worn out and headed home.
I’ve been exhausted ever since.
I finally had to book a couple of mid-week days off work to catch up on some sleep because it was beginning to affect my ability to function.
I think I got that covered today, not waking up until four in the afternoon. So I’m hoping to devote my free day tomorrow to catching up with you all and working on plans for generating a new income.