Date number three approaches ….boy picks up girl from station, boy is very complimentary, boy politely carry’s girl's over packed bag, boy shows girl around beautiful storybook village with limited Wi-Fi, boy takes girl to quaint English cottage….there are pictures of cartoon horses on the walls, strange figurines of animals and a very pronounced smell of damp. Girl pushes disturbing and unnecessary horse imagery out of mind and continues on the quest for love.
The village it turns out is a cross between the Archers and the Wicker man with everyone nodding or smiling to each other in a vaguely sedated fashion as we make our way down the lush and green paths. Following a pub crawl in furnace like a temperatures I’m seriously regretting my black skinny jeans and high heels combo. My make-up is now a just suggestion and I’ve also drunk my own body weight in white wine spritzers. The boy tells me stories of hunting small sweet furry animals and building bivouacs out of nettles. The vegetarian in me quivers- it’s all a world away from the concrete jungles of London….and I feel homesick.
As we wonder back to the cottage through some badly lit brambles (I to go to the spare room and him to his) the stars twinkle and something resembling an owl/squirrel hybrid swoops overhead forcing me to jump and nearly fall to the ground. The cattle are lowing and there is an unmistakable smell of slurry in the air. The boy takes all this as a sign of interest and he leans in for a kiss. He misses and leaves a wet patch on my chin. The wine still clouding my judgement and for a minute I kiss him back. After all this isn't so bad, maybe we do like each other…maybe I can start to like living in the countryside and maybe even collect ceramic dogs?
The next morning I awake very confused with porcelain animals in my iphone search history . There is also sound reminiscent of early nineties techno pumping around my head and 40 miles to the nearest chemist. The boy is finding reasons to touch me and after spending ten minutes heavy handedy stroking my hair suggests a brisk walk followed a tour around some ancient ruins. With three hours till the next train I smile and try not being sick. Several hours later and following a rather sinister encounter with some national trust volunteers who insist with some menace that I can’t leave without watching the instructional video I hobble sun burnt and defeated back to the station. The boy asks if perhaps we could be girlfriend and boyfriend? I tell him work is going to be very busy for the next few weeks. I'm also thinking of moving to Saudi Arabia for the climate. I feel sad and then change the subject.
The farmer may want a wife but sadly this lady is not for turning.
And so it begins...
The village it turns out is a cross between the Archers and the Wicker man with everyone nodding or smiling to each other in a vaguely sedated fashion as we make our way down the lush and green paths. Following a pub crawl in furnace like a temperatures I’m seriously regretting my black skinny jeans and high heels combo. My make-up is now a just suggestion and I’ve also drunk my own body weight in white wine spritzers. The boy tells me stories of hunting small sweet furry animals and building bivouacs out of nettles. The vegetarian in me quivers- it’s all a world away from the concrete jungles of London….and I feel homesick.
As we wonder back to the cottage through some badly lit brambles (I to go to the spare room and him to his) the stars twinkle and something resembling an owl/squirrel hybrid swoops overhead forcing me to jump and nearly fall to the ground. The cattle are lowing and there is an unmistakable smell of slurry in the air. The boy takes all this as a sign of interest and he leans in for a kiss. He misses and leaves a wet patch on my chin. The wine still clouding my judgement and for a minute I kiss him back. After all this isn't so bad, maybe we do like each other…maybe I can start to like living in the countryside and maybe even collect ceramic dogs?
The next morning I awake very confused with porcelain animals in my iphone search history . There is also sound reminiscent of early nineties techno pumping around my head and 40 miles to the nearest chemist. The boy is finding reasons to touch me and after spending ten minutes heavy handedy stroking my hair suggests a brisk walk followed a tour around some ancient ruins. With three hours till the next train I smile and try not being sick. Several hours later and following a rather sinister encounter with some national trust volunteers who insist with some menace that I can’t leave without watching the instructional video I hobble sun burnt and defeated back to the station. The boy asks if perhaps we could be girlfriend and boyfriend? I tell him work is going to be very busy for the next few weeks. I'm also thinking of moving to Saudi Arabia for the climate. I feel sad and then change the subject.
The farmer may want a wife but sadly this lady is not for turning.
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