Hugh came down to see me in London yesterday, as he's going on holiday to Kos today and flying from a London airport.

It was lovely. I took him to one of my favourite pubs on the Thames and we sat out for ages in the warm evening sun before going for some Greek food (to prepare him for his holiday, said I, not because I fancied vine leaves, oh no). Then a walk along the river, over the river, past St Paul's and the Old Bailey before heading back to mine.

We are getting on very, very well, which is nice. Better than nice.

I'll tell you what was not quite so nice though, oh yes I will!

So, this afternoon Hugh was using my computer to buy some travel insurance (typical unorganised male!) and look up train times back to London and I gave him a notepad to write the details on. With my consent he ripped out a page and, ladies and gentlemen, what was on the page directly underneath?

Well...

WELL...

THIS!

Would you like a closer look? You would? Ah.

I don't even remember writing it. Thank God I don't ever get properly embarrassed anymore (due to the fact I commit acts of stupidity with spectacular regularity, and thus my brain has given up manifesting the feeling of embarrassment).

I felt quite the dork, screamed 'Argh, no! You can't see that!' even though he already had, wished for the ability to turn back time and then finally accepted it'd happened. Luckily he seemed to find it quite sweet/amusing rather than psychotic/stalkerish.

He still kissed me a lot anyway.

But seriously! I am 23 and therefore should have grown out of the whole 'writing the name of the boy I like on a bit of paper' shindig approximately a decade ago, if not more.

It could have been worse, it could have been another guy's name with a heart next to it. I just keep telling myself that and feel a hell of a lot better.

previous | next