And I'm up.
And I'm out of the house on the way to the gym and today is going to be a Good Day. To celebrate the impending Good Day that is going to occur, I am listening to "Footloose".
Scratch that. It is "Good Morning Baltimore" from the Hairspray soundtrack.
We have a brand new personal trainer in our gym. His name is Will. Chris introduces me to him.
Will.i.am.is.hot. and while I am running Will.i.am. wanders past and says hello. I nearly loose my footing and go skidding off the back of the treadmill.
Note to Bobby: Stop being a fucking girl. Thanks.
I am at work and I want to put my protein shakes in the fridge near our desks and it's full of food and packets. But.
It's always full of packets and stuff. This confuses me greatly so I pull out a sandwich and see that it expired in December 2008.
Three words: dis. gus. ting.
So I grabbed the camera and went creative... Do you wanna see the shit in the fridge in the office?
Hold your nose and look at this.
I sent it around to as many people as possible. Dirty bastards.
I go upstairs to find Anna for two reasons.
Firstly we have to gossip about Raymond who's over from our unit in New York and everyone is perving over Raymond. Anna is not there which distresses me greatly.
(Oh yeah, Raymond is French Canadian so you say "Rey-mon...")
Secondly Anna and I have to go to Westfield to bury my heart that I ripped out some days ago, I think!?
Rey-mon wears a lot of aftershave. And Rey-mon has a Macbook Pro and an iPhone and Rey-mon wears meedja glasses and a grey cardigan.
I hate him. It's very difficult to tell if these guys are gay.
They're the kind of straight men who would consider having bum sex with another man as an act of rebellion against societal norms and standards.
Be very careful of straight men who use the word hetero-normative. Rey-mon seems like that kind of guy.
I'd like, if I may, to draw your attention to a gentleman on the Jubilee Line who is holding a bunch of flowers.
Now, If he was celebrating a wedding anniversary or birthday he would have bought them for his birdy in the morning.
So is he
1/ Angling for sex?
2/ Apologising for something?
The conundrum entertains my mind as we travel north from Baker Street.
Opera music entertains my ears. Specifically Libiamo ne'lieti calici from La Traviata. (It's the Drinking Song which you'd recognise if you heard it.)
Do you want me to tell you what I'm thinking about?
Okay, when I used to live in Cape Town I hooked up with a man who was a guy. And this guy who wasn't that old but was an opera singer.
He was early 30s and he did not look like Pavarotti. He's famous in South Africa you know.
Anyway. I said I would only consider interactions with him if he sang the song from the Cornetto advert (O sole mio) for me. And he did it at full pelt.
And then there was the - oh god - I wonder whatever happened to er...?
Basically I went to an all-boys school and I ended up hooking up with the art teacher from the rival school.
He was also very well known in the art world - and was, at the time, very very attractive. Like wow.
Have ever tried to make a list of all of your interactions?
And I remember an event once I was invited to.
It was an auction at a very prestigious wine estate on the outskirts of Cape Town and ... one of the cellar masters was extremely hot and recently graduated from agricultural school.
It was in his office and bla bla...
I'm not going to go on with this. Thank god the train has arrived at Finchley Road.
More gym and no Will.i.am.
There are 13 days and 23 hours until I fly to Cape Town.
(Beware, this bit of audio has a word that starts with "c" at the end of it...)
And on and on it goes...