The weekend drinks were supposed to be for Dana’s birthday.  We’d already kind of had birthday on her actual day, but given it was in the middle of the week and Tim was working they decided to go for a few drinks with people on the Saturday afterwards.  It took place at our usual pub in Guildford.  I went on the train while everyone else except Phil came in Tim’s car.  I met Phil at the station and we walked to the pub together.  It was the first time Phil and I had seen each other since the new year, so we talked about what we had done over Christmas and I told him about my new year’s resolution and the Press Club.  Once we arrived at the pub we got a table, and then people changed their mind about the table so we moved.  And then they changed their mind again and we changed back.  Shortly afterwards they changed their minds again and we moved for one final time.  The rest of the evening went pretty much without hitch.  I sat between Phil and his brother and oposite Dana.  I talked mainly to them because they were the people I knew most.  It did strike me as the evening went on, however, that other than me it was really just a group of Tim’s friends.  Granted Dana’s friends are either busy with babies or further away than was practical, but it was still all Tim’s friends.  In fact Dana said something in the following days about feeling she wished there were more girls there to talk to.  I suppose there wasn’t much anyone could do.  On the way back home as I was walking with Phil back to the station after the rest of them had gone off to the car park he said he sensed some tension between Tim and I.  I’m not really sure why, I thought it had gone OK and I’d pretty much managed to avoid saying too much to him.  I guess either it’s more obvious than I realised, or he just read that into it because he knows what I’ve told him before.

So that was that weekend.  The next weekend (last weekend) I got a text from Phil saying that Cecile was over from France and asking if I would like to meet up with them on Saturday and maybe go to the theatre.  Always being up for the theatre, and very happy to see Cecile again, I said I would.  Unfortunately Dana was off seeing Tim that weekend (she sees him every weekend and Cecile not very often, but still.  Cecile’s going to be back in about 3 weeks when I’m told it’s Tim’s birthday so there’ll no doubt be a collection of his friends going out for that which we’ll all go to) so it was just me.  I met them at Embankment tube just after 4, just in time to see a protest march going past along the Embankment.  I’m not sure what they were protesting about, and I didn’t have my camera so I didn’t bother investigating too much.  We walked to the discount Tkts booth in Leicester Square to see what shows were still available and decided to go with Buddy, the Buddy Holly musical.  Both Phil and I had seen the touring version a number of years ago and were happy to go again while Cecile hadn’t seen it at all.  The show went up at 7.30 so we headed to find a bar.  We went to a nice place near Covent Garden and chatted until it was time to head to the theatre.

The show wasn’t quite what I remember (or the touring version has more story telling).  I still enjoyed it, and I think I’d go again if someone else wanted to.  It’s supposed to tell the story of Buddy Holly’s life, but the story telling is a little thin on the ground.  The first half takes you from an appearance on the radio of The Crickets as a country band through them recording their hit singles, Buddy’s marriage, the band’s break up and on to the final tour.  The second half turns the audience in the theatre into the audience at Holly’s last concert in Clear Lake with The Big Bopper and Richie Valens in 1959.  It’s more like seeing a tribute band than a musical.  Buddy’s death is treated handled very poignantly if briefly and it seemed to genuinely take some people by surprise (“shit” said one lady behind us with honest surprise when the VO said what had happened).  The thing closes with a big reprise of Oh Boy.  It does make you leave with a smile on your face.

Sitting next to me were a couple of foreign girls and sitting next to Phil were another couple of girls one of which caught my eye a few times during the show.  I’m sure she was looking at me, and she wasn’t unattractive either.  I thought maybe I might be able to find out if she really was interested during the interval, but she seemed to be buried in her programme with her friend so I summised she wasn’t.  On the way out she was standing in front of the theatre waiting for her friend when we came out, and again she caught my eye.  So I don’t know what she thought — perhaps she was as shy as me and that’s why she hid during the interval — but I am liking the attention my new look seems to be attracting.  Just got to keep it up and I think I’ll be well on track to managing my new year’s resolution!

I did my bit for the economy this weekend.  I finally gave in to the fact I needed some new clothes. The last straw was when I realised I had holes in the elbow of my last standing woolen jumper whilst I was getting dressed on Saturday.  I’d been putting off clothes shopping for a long time, despite Dana’s nagging, because I resent the price of clothes.  My thinking is that something which I have to have (I have no choice but to wear clothes if I ever want to leave the house) shouldn’t cost so much.  How expensive can it be to produce a jumper really?  “But you spend hundreds of pounds on camera equipment” is the usual counter-argument, but that’s different – I don’t need that to function in society (I need it to work, but that’s beside the point), so I’m willing for it to be a little over-priced.  Ultimately I’m willing for someone to make more money from something I want but don’t need than from something I need and have no choice in.

Anyway, I had a wander around Guildford and ended up settling for a couple of things from M&S.  Marks & Spencer seems to suit me.  While it’s maybe perceived as being a bit old and stuffy they have some nice things.  And I am a bit old and stuffy.  I managed to get a couple of jumpers, one fluffy grey one and a slightly lighter stripy one, a couple of casual shirts, one dark red and one which makes me look like a farmer, and a couple of pairs of trousers.  I bought a pair of dark red chinos (they match the shirt) which are great and a pair of black cords.  They are both the same size (32, 33) according to the labels but the cords are about 12 times bigger around the waist so they don’t fit.  Not only is it a bit upsetting when you’ve spent £35 on a pair of trousers, but it’s silly when they trousers claim to be the same from the same shop!  And it’s another reason I don’t like clothes shopping.

All in all it’s been a reasonable weekend, although I still didn’t get around to getting my accounts up to date.  I must do that this week.  Preferably tomorrow.

Friday was Hallowe’en and a group of people connected with work had organised a party at a local bar to which I was invited (I realise just because they wanted pictures of the night — a little earlier in the day Paul asked me “are you being photographer tonight” — but I’m used to that).  With it being Hallowe’en it was a fancy dress party.  With me being me I didn’t dress up.  We started off meeting up at the office where people got themselves dressed up and ready before walking to the bar.  The back room had been reserved and the plan was to get there about half 7.  As is expected with these plans we didn’t actually leave the office until about quarter past 8.  There was a good number of people there and we had booked a buffet which went down reasonably well, although there was too much of it (it ended up feeding a lot of people not in our party in the end).

I spent the evening snapping away.  I only took the one camera because I was expecting us to be moving on somewhere before the end of the night and I’m always concerned that clubs aren’t necessarily going to be very pro-gear friendly.  This restricted my scope a little but still, all in all, I took around 135 pictures and from that came up with about 60 of publishable quality (not job-quality, but that’s ok when they are just going to be used on Facebook).

After a few hours I’d pretty much run out of things to photograph so I decided to sit down for a bit.  Amy, the girl I mentioned above, came and sat with me.  “I haven’t spoken to you yet tonight”, she said.  So we sat and talked for a bit.  About what she’s doing (a placement from University doing something with chemicals — she’s studying chemistry and forensic science), about what I’m doing, about my university, about where we’re from, about her boyfriend.

It was interesting to get her side of the story — I’ve heard about the relationship from his side quite a bit, but having never met her I’d not been able to judge his comments, or hear what she had to say about things.  She’s not happy with him.  “He treats me like shit”, “it’s like I’m not here”, “I was worried all his friends hate me because of what he’s told them”.  I know what his friends think.  So I lie: “They don’t hate you”.  Then, because I’m nice and she seems a bit upset: “I like you at least”.  It works.  We hug.  I get called away because shots are on the cards — this is an important photo op.

A little later I’m standing by the bar with everyone else and she wander over again.  She stands next to me and puts my arm around her.  That’s ok I guess, I have plenty of girly friends who I’d do that with.  The next thing I know she wants a photo of us together, so we pose — typical friends-taking-a-picture-with-their-own-camera type pose, faces together, camera up high — and she takes a picture with her camera.  And then another.  And another.  Another.  And another.  I am summoned away again, this time to get a picture of Batman and the Joker.

TIme passes, the Joker wins costume of the night, and it is decided to go to Guildford to carry on the evening.  By this time most people have given up on the party and split to go home.  There are only 7 of us left and not many of us really think it’s worth going on to Guildford, especially not by £36 taxi.  I’m in two minds — I do actually quite like going out, despite what people think, and I’m happy to go on somewhere, but I’m not so keen on spending well over £170 to get us all to Guildford and then back home again — but I don’t have much else to do, so I figure I might as well.  Amy wants me to as well.  There’s a bit of a fuss getting into our taxi.  Amy gets in next to nick both facing forward and she signals that she wants me to sit next to her.  But Steve says he wants to sit facing forward, and I don’t mind facing the other way, so he goes to sit next to her.  This causes her to move so she’s on the other seat facing backwards, next to me.  The reason for this soon becomes clear — she wants to hold my hand.

The trip to Guildford is about 15 minutes.  Throughout this she keeps trying to hold my hand and I keep moving it away.  We finally arrive at the next bar, although I have no idea what it’s called.  We roll in and head for the bar.  There Harry buys everyone a drink.  Except me and, apparently, Amy.  So I offer to buy her one.  In fact, I offered to buy her boyfriend one.  I did this strategically.  I didn’t want to look like I was offering to buy just her a drink.  He already had one — Harry bought it.  In the time it took for me to get served everyone else had gone off to find somewhere to sit.  That left just the two of us.  She latched herself on to me and rested her head on my shoulder.  I didn’t respond.  We got our drinks and went to join the others.  There I strategically sat at the other side of the table from her and didn’t talk to her.  It worked, she talked to Harry.

Soon people were fed up of this nice comfy seat and wanted to go upstairs to, what turned out to be, another part of the bar which was busier and less enjoyable.  She grabbed my hand, and we moved to the other bar.  Once there, she put my arm around her again.  Only this time she pushed my hand down onto her bum.  And not only onto her bum, under her skirt onto her bum.  I kept trying to find a way to move it away: I’m talking to Steve so I’m going to have to gesticulate; I need to check what time it is; I need to take a photo…  When I moved my hand away she put hers under my shirt onto my back.  Hmm.  We stood by the door of the bar for a while, mostly because there wasn’t room to go anywhere else, until Harry found a table in the corner with spaces to sit.  So we pushed our way through to that.  On the way I decided to say something in her ear: “I have to work with Nick, I’d rather he didn’t find out…”.  “So would I”.  “I’m not the one doing anything wrong”.

Soon enough it was decided that everyone had had enough.  Nick was looking worse for wear, Steve and Matt were fed up, Freya had convinced Harry they should go home and I wanted to escape.  So it was decided to call it a night and we started to make our way back to the taxi rank.  As had become traditional by this stage, she grabbed my hand.  Not much happened for the first part of the walk to the taxi rank.  At one point she stopped to zip up her jacket while I carried on going.  A brief stop at the cash machine gave her chance to catch up, it also gave her chance to realise she trapped her hair in the zip.  “That wouldn’t have happened if you had done it”, she said to me, before continuing “although you’d probably rather zip it the other way”.  Oh dear.

Had I really given the impression I was that interested in her?  Sure, I’d been friendly — she seemed miserable when we were talking and she seemed like a nice girl — but I don’t think I’d done a huge amount to lead her on.  Perhaps I should have more obviously moved away from her when she put my arms around her.  Perhaps I should have just come out and said “I’m not willing to do this” rather than hope she’d get the message from other things I said.  I suspect I was too willing to cuddle, but that’s what I’m like.  That comes from the lovvie group I’ve grown up with — yes actors really are like that.  I think she just wanted attention.  I know she said her boyfriend doesn’t give her as much as she wants, and from the way he behaved that evening I can see that, so I suspect she was looking for it from somewhere else.  Anywhere else.  I’m looking forward to the fall out.  I have no idea what he saw or thinks he saw or thinks he thinks.  I guess I’ll find out.  She added me as a friend on Facebook, but other than that we haven’t spoken.  She posted a few comments on the photos I uploaded but nothing directly relating to me.  I’m curious, I think, to find out what she really thinks — was it all just drunken attention seeking, or does she think more of me than that?  Does she think I think more of her than that?

You know, there’s a small part of me which is really curious.  I never said no.  Sometimes I think we all crave a little attention.  Don’t we?