A new bike for £96!

Twice a year I take my bike to the service, because I found this shop that I quite like, and they are doing a much better job much more quickly than I could.

Inspired and encouraged by my friend Kat who for a while had a 90 minute commute each way by bike (in Britain!) I cycle on average a hundred kilometres per week, mainly through my own commute, so my bike parts wear quickly.

At my last service, more parts of my bike were replaced than remained and I ended up with a new bike that was still dirty enough to not attract thieves, but it's fast and the brakes brake beautifully!

Harrassed!

I spent a night in a jazz bar with friends, chatting and drinking, and not really listening to the music, when a guy touched my hip repeatedly, intentionally and knowingly against my wish. He followed me around the room so it was clear that this was no accident, and I started to shout at him to stop touching me. I deliberately made a scene to draw attention and show him that he couldn't get away with it. I was feeling quite brave, being tipsy, and having my friend Jack with me.

He shrunk back from me but didn't say anything, and his pal was very apologetic and angry at his friend which made me think that this might have happened before. I kept shouting for a bit and suggested they leave, but when his pal said that they had just got drinks and if it would be ok if they left after finishing the drinks, I said fine.

My other friend Calum came over and asked what the commotion was, and when I told him he went off and told the bouncer - even though I didn't want to make a fuss. I didn't really know how to feel about this. I grew up quite sheltered and have never been in a similar situation - verbal abuse or sexism, yes, but never actual sexual harassment! I wasn't scared - rather the opposite, I almost enjoyed shouting at that poor guy!

My friends asked if I wanted to take this further, but I thought that was disproportionate, especially since the guy was so taken aback when I shouted at him. For some twisted reason I didn't want to get him into trouble, and I think the fact that he wasn't white also played a role - I did think about racism in the police. But my main reason was that I didn't want the hassle of talking to the police this late at night in my tipsy state.

I was wondering though if I was letting other women down by not reporting the incident. Calum said it was absolutely up to me, and the three of us left soon after. We cycled together for a bit, and then stopped for chips, only that the chippy was closing up and we had potato fritters in a bun with ketchup instead, which was quite disgusting, but preferable to the only other option, a haggis pie in a bun, and actually quite nice. Sitting by the canal in the dark in the middle of the night eating greasy food was brilliant.

And then Calum's phone went. The jazz bar bouncer called - he had a police officer there who wanted to ask Calum a few questions about the incident. At 2.30 in the morning. I shook my head at Calum while he answered the questions. No, he didn't see the incident himself. No, he didn't know my last name. I was quite grateful. To him, for reporting it in the first place, but then letting me decide what to do or not to do, and to the jazz bar staff for taking this seriously.

Looking back (through the alcoholic mist...), it seems quite silly. That guy's touching my hip had more the quality of playing tag rather than anything seedy. But if I hadn't been with my friends and if the staff hadn't reacted as supportively, I might have felt very differently about the incident.

When I talked to my friend Nat about this the following night she said that these things happened all the time in some other bars and that the staff there wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't go to such a place! In fact, I was having this conversation with her in the same jazz bar, because I can trust that such behaviour isn't tolerated there. But the discussion must have left an impression. That night, I dreamed of being followed and threatened by a young, skinny, crazy guy with a knife - a Swiss army knife, would you believe it - and I woke up from shouting for help.

Oh well, Schwamm drüber as we say in Germany. I'm just not a pepper spray kind of girl.

Cobbler

I took some shoes to the cobbler to extend their lifetime a bit, but oh boy was that cobbler scary! This wasn't the experience I had had in mind at all!

The shop looked old-fashioned and no-nonsense from the outside, and not one of these chain stores that double up as key cutting services. It actually has an old wooden sign above the door saying "Gorgie Cobblers", how quaint! But instead of a frail old man with glasses and little hair, a tattooed brute "welcomed" me and refused to do any of the things to my shoes that I had in mind. In fact, I'm not actually sure what it is he is going to do - I was too scared to ask too many questions, let alone take my business elsewhere.

At some point during our short exchange he said to me "this is the heel." when I referred to the part in question as "the back bit of the sole". And he seemed furious about having to explain the correct term to me, or maybe he thought I wasn't taking his profession seriously. I certainly am now!

Heatwave!

The temperature outside has reached 24°C and it feels just like a few weeks ago in Athens at 40°C. Too hot. I couldn't find my shorts. I must have got rid of them since the last summer which was three years ago. I feel taken back to that time, my first summer in Scotland, when my impression of Scottish summers got seriously skewed.

But how lucky am I to have taken this week off work?! It's the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival again, and I'm volunteering, going to gigs, hanging out with the musicians. Highlights so far were catching up with the other volunteers and staff, many of whom I hadn't seen in a year. Wandering from venue to venue, never knowing who I would run into. Announcing the bands to thousands of people at the free open-air event. Of course hanging out backstage with the musicians - so cool, I'm still getting star struck all the time. An amazing drum solo by EST's Magnus Ostrom, which might have been two, five or ten minutes long, I couldn't tell, but I wouldn't have minded if it had gone on for much longer - it was so good. Seeing him in his underpants before the gig. Cycling home at night in a T-shirt - no jumper needed! The discounts on drinks in the festival venues. All this music, all this skill!

Good times.

Pentlands once more

I hadn't been to the Pentlands in a few months, so it was high time to rectify this and blog about a Pentlands walk for the seventh time!

I met up with my man in Bonaly, where I had walked and he had taken the bus. For me, walking a few miles to get there was slightly faster than the bus, less hassle, and also quite nice. The walk took me through a former railway tunnel which is now part of the Water of Leith cycle path. The walls were covered in an interesting mix of graffiti and lichen.

We headed for the hills, meeting a bunch of sweaty soldiers on the way, who were running with heavy packs and big automatic guns in their arms. Shouldn't common sense around running with scissors also apply to guns? Those that weren't out of breath greeted us politely. Cheerful soldiers!

We then climbed higher and I couldn't wait to tell my man to turn around - because suddenly, this amazing view over Edinburgh opens up. He responded to it sufficiently pleased, and I rewarded him with a long break and a cup of tea. The secret to getting people into hillwalking is breaks and snacks. Lots of snacks.

After the initial climb the walking was fairly easy for a few miles along the Glencorse and Loganlea Reservoirs. Then, we had to climb a bealach to get up to the first of a couple of hills we were going to cross before descending to the pub, the Flotterstone Inn. The climb was fairly steep and I'm not sure how much my man enjoyed this bit, but a family with four young kids were ahead of us and made it seem easy. Only their little girl wasn't having all that much fun - she reminded me of myself when I was little and taken hillwalking against my will.

Over the hills and down again was great walking, and busy too - lots of other walkers, usually in pairs, and runners, usually alone. We finished at the pub with a nice coffee and then took the bus home.

The route, starting at my house at the top, finishing at the pub

Walk profile

Colinton railway tunnel

Low clouds over the Pentlands

 Big pack for all the snacks!

Edinburgh of the South

Work sent me to Athens a few weeks ago. I was accompanied by my boss, and we had a few meetings with members of the Greek government, the European Commission and academia. These meetings were slightly bizarre and much more political than I am used to in my day job, but I won't go into details here.

That week, Athens had unseasonally hot weather. But while I generally prefer my summers Scottish, I do enjoy going out at night in a hot country. I spent a few lovely evenings eating out with my boss with various views of the Acropolis by night.

Athens is also known as the Edinburgh of the South. The main feature of its skyline, the Parthenon on the Acropolis, looks just like the Scottish National Monument on Calton Hill.

We got a flavour of the social unrest troubling Greece these days. Demonstrations happen on a daily basis, and no one seems to know much about the different groupings demonstrating, who they are and what exactly they want. The military presence on Syntagma Square was quite disconcerting. I can't help but wonder if this is what awaits the UK if they don't get their shit together very soon.

Here are a few pictures, but really it was too hot to take photos.

Plato in the Academy of Athens

The guards in front of the parliament.

Imagine holding this pose at 40 degrees!

Loved the shoes.

Military getting ready for the nightly demonstrations at the parliament on Syntagma Square

Too hot to climb the Acropolis, so I explored Athens' "Traditional Plottery"

Dinner on Friday night, boss and I shared a litre of wine.

View at dinner

The end

So, how are things with my man you might wonder.

First of all, there were more dates but we stopped writing about them. And we certainly did not take things slowly! On date seven he said he wanted us to be a couple, as in solid, committed, serious, exclusive, etc. That was sweet. It was also very, very soon, and very much the opposite of slow!

Of course I agreed. But then I started to worry about all the things that could go wrong: Was I committing to more than I was ready for? How serious and sustainable were my feelings? Were they the right sort of feelings and what was I supposed to be feeling at this stage anyway? Was I too relaxed, risking to get swept away by this new relationship only to then get hurt myself if he wasn't up for it or things just didn't work out? Was he getting too comfortable? Was he taking me for granted and just replacing his ex with whoever was convenient? Was I worrying too much, jeopardising the whole thing by overthinking it?
That last one might be a yes...

Ooft.

I then went away on a walking trip to Ullapool, a home visit to Germany and a work trip to Greece, too busy to worry, and I'm quite alright just now. I'm writing this while he's making me breakfast.

It's strange but nice to be in a relationship again. There are moments that are just a thousand times more pleasant with a boyfriend. Lying on a wooden jetty by the canal in the sun: definitely better with a boyfriend. Watching a movie on the couch: also much better with a boyfriend. Hugs too.

It's fun to discover one another's little quirks and routines. How he needs to eat at least five times a day, how untidiness makes him alternatively feel uneasy or wild. Seeing him one morning on the couch in his bathrobe (morning gown?) reading the paper was a memorable moment. Made me aware of my own quirks as well, like my erratic eating patterns, my occasional indecisiveness, my ignorance of current (and not so current) affairs. I've found myself a man next to whom I look flaky! I don't even want to think too hard about all my annoying things he has to put with.

It's quite difficult to organise a relationship around a full social life. I have neglected my French studies, my online courses, my dancing and my Uke. We live in opposite ends of the city, so travel is time consuming and sleep-overs need planning ahead. But I'm sure we'll figure it out and find a balance.

So after the first few dates we have now reached a phase where there isn't much to report. If things keep going well he'll probably get the occasional mention in my blog. If things go badly I'm sure I'll write about it too some day. Wish us luck!

In any case, I really did appreciate that he was brave enough to post here for you. If you want to re-read any of it click the links below for the full report:

• Being the man
• Live coverage from the front
• Working Class Boy #2
• First date - what he says
• At the theatre (second date) - what he says
• A coastal walk (date 3) - what she says
• A coastal walk (date 3) - what he says
• Dinner at his (date 4) - what she says
• Dinner at his (date 4) - what he says
• Date #5 - what she says
• Date #5 - what he says

Referendum

Seventeen million people across the UK said this week that they wanted to leave the European Union. What this means was very well described by other people like this unknown and widely quoted commenter on the Financial Times website who talked about "three tragedies" of the EU referendum result:

"Firstly, it was the working classes who voted or us to leave because they were economically disregarded and it is they who will suffer the most in the short term from the dearth of jobs and investment. They have merely swapped one distant and unreachable elite or another one.

Secondly, the younger generation has lost the right to live and work in 27 other countries. We will never know the full extent o the lost opportunities, friendships, marriages and experiences we will be denied. Freedom of movement was taken away by our parents, uncles, and grandparents in a parting blow to a generation that was already drowning in the debts of our predecessors.

Thirdly and perhaps most significantly, we now live in a post-factual democracy. When the facts met the myths they were as useless as bullets bouncing off the bodies of aliens in a HG Wells novel. When Michael Gove said 'the British people are sick of experts' he was right. But can anybody tell me the last time a prevailing culture of anti-intellectualism has lead to anything other than bigotry?"

Me, I was surprised, shocked, disappointed. I'm sad for Europe, sad about the failure of the European Union, sad for the British people.
Many of the 17 million who voted to leave will have done so because of "the migrants" in some way or other. I am an immigrant in this country.

So what really moved me was the response of the people here: Two major Scottish politicians, Kezia Dugdale and Nicola Sturgeon, in their first responses both specifically addressed the European workers in the UK and stressed how welcome they were here and how their contribution was valued.

My boss's boss Paul who is English apologised to me for his countrymen and made sure I was doing ok.

And my bus into town got stuck in a demonstration against the referendum results, with people shouting "Migrants are welcome here".

So how could I take this personally? I definitely don't feel unwelcome in Scotland.

PS. One of my favourite bloggers has expressed his own Brexit sadness in his Make Wealth History blog (*click*).

Scotland's best mountain?

My walking pals convinced me to join them for a long weekend in Ullapool - how could I say no to that? Cute little Ullapool! There was a catch though, they wanted to climb the mountain An Teallach. An Teallach is a grade 5 walk on the trusted Walkhighlands scale (*click*), 7-11 hours long excluding breaks:

"This fabled mountain is perhaps the most impressive in Britain, and gives a day of drama and views that will live in the memory forever. The full traverse is a magnificent scramble, whilst the two Munros can be reached by an easier there-and-back route."

I agreed to do it only if conditions were perfect, little wind, good visibility, not too much snow. An easy way out I thought, because conditions are never perfect in Scotland.

But oh boy, was I wrong! The sun just wouldn't stop shining, no winds but a gentle breeze, and no excuses for me! But what sealed the deal for me in the end was this obnoxious older guy in the bunkhouse who kept mansplaining and acted incredulous when I said that I was going to climb An Teallach. Well, I would show him. Arsehole.

Anyway, everyone else in the bunkhouse was lovely as always in the hills, including and especially my walking pals, Jono, Vivien and Valentina. Also, all of them are great at food-related things, such as buying food, the snacks they bring, and especially cooking! Perfect company for a weekend in the hills.

The big walk started off rather pleasantly up a forestry track along a burn. And while the climb wasn't exactly gentle, the countryside was varied enough to distract from the hard work. The other thing that distracted was the worry about the things yet to come...

The first thing to come was leaving the nice track to climb up a spur. This spur was not the trampled path I had envisaged, but a giant pile of boulders. It was quite a slog to climb the steep rocky slope, but after that the next tops looked grassy and fairly easy.

We then got an excellent overview over the tops and pinnacles of An Teallach - a daunting sight. The sun came out intermittently, and the views were far and incomparable.

Once we reached the first pinnacle I looked at the route and chickened out. For the first time in my walking history I was actually scared of following a route. I thought it too risky to do this bit without ropes - not because it was a difficult climb, but it was more than a scramble and if you fell you'd get seriously hurt.

I left the boys behind and took the bypass route, but soon they caught up with me. It wasn't safe. Or maybe we didn't find the right starting point. But after bypassing the pinnacles we finally reached the first top and then the second, and it being a bank holiday weekend and perfect weather there were loads of other people up there as well, a party really!

Such good fun! The descent was knee-shattering, it was overall quite a long day, and the midges got us in the end when we almost got lost in a rhododendron tunnel. But this is one beautiful mountain, an exhilarating walk, and I'd do it again.



Boulder pile. No path.



First hardship of the day done.

Looking at the pinnacles of An Teallach

View towards the Fisherfield 6 - more mountains to climb for another day.

Another day in Assynt.

Ullapool.

Ullapool.

Stac Pollaidh

Achnahaird Beach

Quinag - just a few corbetts but also quite nice, need to come back for the whole circuit.

Walking pals.

Ullapool.

1000 Comments!

You did it! You lovely people who keep coming back to read about the banalities and angsts of my life - you finally managed to hit the long-announced 1000th comment.

And the prize goes to my most loyal reader - my mum! Her comment was about the first guest blog ever to be published here (*click*), so I guess I have to share the credit. In any case, congratulations! I haven't decided what the prize will be but I'm sure it will be no less amazing than previous ones (*click*).

The Germans are coming!

I was so chuffed that my oldest best friends from school came to visit me in Scotland! We spent quite a lot of time shopping for 'exotic' British toys for their kids, but we also got a lot of sight-seeing, pub-crawling, and Skat-playing done. So much fun.

My highlight was the third day, when we were done shopping and went to Roslin Glen for a nice walk along the river North Esk in the sun. My friends hadn't expected such nice weather, and Scotland is beautiful in the sun.

In the evening we had the ultimate Scottish experience in the Captain's Bar, a tiny pub, where some local musicians had a folk music session. It was so small that we were almost sitting on the musicians' laps, and we got the most of it. At some point the whole pub was singing Scotland's inofficial national anthem, "Will Ye Go Lassie Go".

Date #5 - what he says

Get ready for what might be my guest blogger's final post:

"Date number 5 is a different ball game as we enter the realm of the ad hoc date. Maike is dancing during the weekend so I text her to ask if she wants to meet for a quick coffee (this ends up being a very unquick coffee). 

It’s a sunny day. We meet in a park and wile away a few hours lying there and chatting, which is super nice. It feels very natural and I’m definitely the most relaxed and at ease I’ve been on the dates so far. Maike is great and it’s so nice to spend time with her like this. The only downside is that I take a healthy interest in her dancing shoes and she thinks I might have a foot fetish (I don’t)(at least not that I know of).

We eventually have that coffee. I fear Maike thinks I’m a little unusual as I tell her I like to rewatch certain films lots of times. We then decide to extend the date further by getting dinner. We eat at a really nice Turkish place and have lots of MEAT. The waiter used to live near to my hometown and gives us free tea. Maike decides that I’m better company than that evening’s dancing (I always knew this lady was wise) so we decide to go to the cinema instead. The film is very funny and we have a long, in depth conversation about one of the big questions in life: just how old is Hugh Grant these days?

After the film finishes Maike walks me to the bus stop (she is an old fashioned romantic) so I can get home while she cycles back to hers.

So, a quick coffee turned into an 8 hour date with a beautiful, smart, interesting lady. Life is good, dear readers, life is good."

And to answer the one obvious question that must be killing you now: Yes, Hugh Grant is indeed looking quite old in the film Florence Foster Jenkins, but he is only 55!

Date #5 - what she says

Date 5
This is an impromptu date. Unexpectedly, my afternoon is free and he asks me if I want to meet up for a coffee. Do I ever. I am really glad he asks, I have been wanting to see him all day. It seems the more time I spend with him the more time I want to spend with him.

We meet in Princes Street Gardens and just lie in the sun for four hours. Enjoying the sun and each other's company, rolling in the grass, watching people, kissing, talking.

We go for coffee at Waterstone's, a bookstore with a nice café overlooking the castle. Apparently, his go-to place for first dates! I still have some time to kill before my next engagement, a dance I am going to go to. He suggests we have dinner, and I ask for a cheerful restaurant rather than a fancy one. The Vietnamese place he suggests is full but we find a Turkish place nearby which turns out to be a great choice. The food is very good, but also, Ali, who runs the place together with his brother, is a lovely host and has a friendly chat with every guest. Definitely a cheerful place.

On our way to my bike we pass by the cinema. I'm not ready for the date to be over, so I can convince him to see a film which he doesn't even want to see, and I ditch my other plans for the evening.

I've learned more about the mystery live-in ex. When he first mentioned her I commented on the fact that the break-up had been quite recent. Maybe because of this remark he was reluctant to tell me that they were together for a very, very long time. I don't mind. Should I? I've always thought I might 'end up' with someone who has had a previous marriage or something, because the ones who haven't had any serious relationships by now - will they ever?

Dinner at his (date 4) - what he says

My guest blogger:

"So, dear readers, we have arrived at date number four. Exciting times! For today’s date I aim to impress Maike by cooking for her and showing her my flat.

I have a minor panic on the day when Maike tells me she has never had blue cheese before, and this is a key ingredient in what I’m cooking. I have bought a German blue cheese, so what can go wrong?

As it turns out she likes the food and my flat. She spends time looking at my books, which I like a lot. We go for a nice walk along the beach (this working class boy has a ‘beachside property’) before coming back for dessert (which I’ve bought, not made, I confess). We listen to jazz and Maike is very interested in counting the beats and I learn a little about musical theory from her. What a find this lady is!

There is some very nice kissing (awwww) and then I drive her home. A really nice date!"

Dinner at his (date 4) - what she says

Date 4
He invites me to dinner at his place. I realise that this could be code for something else but in fact I suspect nothing other than honourable intentions and hopefully a nice dinner. He even picks me up from work and offers me a lift home later - how nice is that!

His flat is very close to the beach, very clean and tidy and nicely decorated. I must admit I am relieved. In fact, I am ridiculously pleased about that. Lots of framed prints on the walls, lots of books, CDs and DVDs neatly stacked in shelves and in an old fireplace. We share our taste in books - frighteningly so.

There is more kissing and when it gets a bit heated I suggest we take things slowly. He might be a keeper so I'm not taking this lightly. I want to make sure no one gets hurt too much before we've made up our minds.

He makes a lovely dinner which involves blue cheese - I was worried, I had never had cheese with blue mould in it. But it works really well with the other ingredients, butternut squash, mushrooms, rocket and a sweet dressing. We take a walk along the beach at sunset - again! It is beautiful and I am feeling happy. Apart from being slightly paranoid about running into one of my old flames who all seem to be living in this area.

He opens up a bit and tells me about his own old flames. I'm still waiting to hear about the ex live-in girlfriend from not too long ago, but I think he must have had his rebound, and it's not going to be me. He tells me how nervous he was when he first saw me on our first date because I was better-looking than in my picture. Then he quickly added that my looks weren't the only reason why he wanted to meet me - as if he was worried he might have offended me! Adorable.

I have deactivated my online dating account. I can't possibly deal with more than one boy at a time.

A coastal walk (date 3) - what he says

And here's my guest blogger's account of date number three:

"Date three has been arranged as a long coastal walk. Maike is well prepared. When I do the gentlemanly thing and offer to carry the rucksack, I nearly snap my arm because of how heavy it is! It later turns out that she has a second outfit in there (this lady likes to layer) and snacks for the trip (I’m a bit embarrassed as my preparation amounts to a bottle of water). The weather is beautiful. Nice sights: bridges, water, islands, trees, wildlife, beaches. We walk. We talk. Life is sweet. We reach the halfway point and turn back after a short rest. I am thinking I would love to kiss Maike today. I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I’m also aware that if I am rebuffed it is going to be a long, awkward walk back. We spot a strange, small rock called Eagle Rock (named because in theory an image of an eagle can be seen in the rock – possibly an optimistic claim). Maike wants to take a look at the rock. I realise this would be an amazing spot to kiss. Windswept and romantic. I could commune with nature and be all Heathcliff-like (if Heathcliff was clean shaven and wearing a blue hoodie). I decide to go for it. You only live once and all that. I am happy to report that Maike does not rebuff me. We kiss. And she is an amazing kisser (apologies to one reader in particular – Maike’s mother – if this is too much detail). At the end of the walk, we sit on a wall for a long time and admire the view. Then a meal and home. It’s been a great day and it’s really nice to getting to know Maike."

To be continued.

A coastal walk (date 3) - what she says

Date 3
We meet in South Queensferry in the afternoon of one of the first properly sunny days this spring. My evil plan is to walk the 5 miles to Cramond and back in a little loop so that at sunset, we will be walking by the water with views of the Forth bridges and over to Fife. Could it be any more romantic?

We walk to Cramond where the river Almond meets the Firth of Forth, and watch the boats, and the people on the other side of the river. There used to be a passenger ferry to cross it, which would have taken under five minutes. Now, there is a bridge a mile up the river. We are alone on this side of the river, safe from other people and the ice cream van.

We walk back along the coast and climb a big rock that has a name plate attached to it. Eagle Rock. It is exposed up here, windy and sunny, and offers nice views. Almost too perfect a spot for a first kiss. And I am taken by surprise when it actually happens here, so soon. Good work!

I wonder how scary it must be to make this move for the first time. It's probably easier with online, 'official', dating, because it is clear to all parties involved that this is about romance not friendship, so attempting a kiss shouldn't be too risky. But still, I have never done it.

I'm feeling a bit self-conscious about kissing in such an overly romantic spot, or kissing at all, but it soon passes, and I am just enjoying the moment, the walk, the sun, the twosomeness, holding hands.

Back in Queensferry we sit on a wall by the water for hours, getting a Scottish tan (=sunburn), until we need to pee. We have dinner in a pub, and he gives me a lift home.

To be continued.

Forth Rail Bridge

Barnbougle Castle

Dalmeny Estate

The scenery which made him want to kiss me.

Most romantic rail bridge to cross the Forth.

At the theatre (date 2) - what he says

Here is my guest blogger's report of our second date:

"I manage to leave work on time and get to the theatre for my second date with Maike right on time. I feel more relaxed and we have a catch up before heading into the play. While waiting for the play to begin, we discuss books and she says she has read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace twice. One of my favourite books. My heart swoons. The play is, erm, interesting and pretty weird. One audience member needs to fake an illness to get out of there.  Afterwards we go for a drink. Maike makes me laugh a lot when she can’t understand some of my words and then proceeds to say back to me how they sound. The conversation flows. I give her a lift home. On the way we arrange a third date (readers, there are no flies on this boy). To kiss or not to kiss, that was my question. I ponder trying to give her a goodnight kiss but don’t have the courage and don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. We hug instead. A very nice second date and third one arranged. Life is good."

To be continued.

First date - what he says

I'm so excited, I have a guest blogger today! Not only are you reading about the story as it develops, you are being treated to both sides of it! Working Class Boy has kindly agreed to report his experience of dating me. Is this a great or a terrible idea? I honestly don't know, but I do think it might be entertaining. So, in his own words:

"I have had the honour of having been asked to contribute a guest blog to this publication. So, here goes...

First date:
Before the first date with Maike, of course I had seen her online profile and there had been messages sent between us. From this Maike seemed interesting, quirky and pretty. On the day of date I arrived feeling reasonably calm and optimistic. She was already there and reading (a very good first sign). Very quickly I realise that I have underestimated Maike. First off, she is incredibly good looking (Readers, I know I am a fool for not realising this sooner. What can I say? My Ipad is small and her photographs simply did not do her justice). I suddenly feel more nervous than I did. Maike struggles to understand some (actually, maybe a lot) of my accent. I fear I am making a mess of this. So, I regroup and try to portray myself as something other than a bumbling idiot. Hopefully I achieve this. We talk about various topics: work, where we live and have lived, books, music, and even dating. Maike is sweet and very funny. Her sense of humour is sharp and dry. I find myself laughing a lot. She even manages to suggest I might have an inappropriate relationship with my sister, which is funny rather than offensive. Time goes. One hour turns into two and then three. There is a slightly awkward moment when we realise that she lives in the same building as my friend (hopefully she does not think I’m an axe murderer and now have her address). At the end of the date I decide to be brave and ask her out for a second date. She accepts. Hurray! So, dear reader, the first date is navigated with a great deal of nerves but seemingly a level of success. Phew."

Aw, isn't he a charmer? To be continued.

Get ready, a treat is coming up!

Brace yourselves for a special treat on Wednesday: For the first time in the history of my regular ramblings on the internet, I will have a guest blog!