Yesterday I met the witty and well-travelled Tim from Cultural Snow, the lovely Patroclus, the blindingly handsome Wyndham the Triffid and the glamorous Pashmina - it is strange walking into a bar to meet people when you don't know what they look like or (in most cases) what their real names are, but I had a great time meeting the lovely blog folk.
Drink was taken and this morning I had to catch a very crowded Silverlink to Caledonian Road in closer proximity to my fellow man than I usually enjoy, especially when hungover. I was sandwiched, no, cushioned between two ladies with very big bosoms - it was pretty much wasted on me and I was thinking of asking the man next to me if he wanted to swap places. The woman in front of me couldn't help it but when I looked at the woman behind me, I realised she had about five inches of space behind her - she was in fact a frotteur! A lady frotteur! I've never heard the like.
I've had such a beautiful day though, having been sent on a sculpture course at the Visual Learning Foundation, spending the day on their roof-top in the sunshine sketching the skyline from Canary Wharf to Kings Cross, drawing, painting & modelling with modroc, (that stuff they used to set broken bones in). Beats school any day.
Then I met Bad Sar in town for football with free margaritas courtesy of her work, to watch the tall skinny one and the, er, not-so-tall one score. My cup runneth over.
12 comments:
You don't get lady frotteurs on the piccadilly line. Although I did find myself wedged between 2 teenage girls on a crowded tube the other day, therefore I was unable to move or look down and had to concern myself with reading the adverts.
What a great day. Especially the cushioning!! My eyes are misting up at the views of London in the sunshine....
I write this with a hangover too, and it gives me a strange comfort to know that my friends still suffer the same way I do when we really should know better
Jasus it's been a while since I've been sandwiched between two pairs of large bosoms... Err...
Thanks for the squeezy Marmite Annie! Just got it today. It will be blogged like, later. x
Billy - it came as a shock as I got used to commuting away from the centre of town - maybe TfL should start having a special 'frotteurs' carriage' on the tube.
Ah Em, it's the worst bit of getting older, we never learn.
You're very welcome Matt. Won't that clog up your keyboard?
I have a pal who fell asleep on a big bosom next to him on the bus. He thought it was his pillow. The big bosom woman didn't mind, maybe 'cause my pal's good-looking.
Ha! Hilarious! I love it that she didn't mind.
In case you have noticed there are plenty of female pervs out there!
Once we went out to a disco and GH made all the plans, she invited six of her friends and their male counterparts. Curiously none of the guys showed up, one was out of town, two were working, you get the picture. So there I was on the dance floor with seven girls, when I went to the bar to get a drink along comes this woman... yup, a frotteur if you ask any of us. And believe me it took me some time to get rid of her.
Dcver, I swear, I hadn't noticed, and I apologise on behalf of the sisterhood.
Good grief, in bar too, with your Good Half present!
Annie, I do believe you are turning into an uber blogger. :)
I like the sound of that - do I get servants and a chauffeur driven car?
I see, I'm witty and Wyndham's blindingly handsome. Not that I mind, of course. Witty's good, and I thank you for it, most humbly. And W is rather a dish; even I can see that.
But sometimes I do feel a bit like Frances de la Tour, with everyone going on about how talented she is, skating around the fact she looks like a gargoyle.
No no no Tim - not to say that you're not blindingly handsome too, as well as witty - just that Wyndham always jokes about it on his blog - not that he's not blindingly handsome - (oh lord, digging my own grave here - think I'll just shoot myself.)
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