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Disconnected

  Wed 12th November 2014

The bailiff came round again. Unfortunately, his visit coincided with the time the postman sometimes arrives, so I opened the door. He stood there with a clipboard and a recording device and managed to get me to sign up for £25 a month, but I'll write to them saying I can only afford a tenner. I've just started a subscription to a wine club for £20 a month, and it ill befits a gentleman to spend more on his debts than he does on his wine.


There isn't much to say about my date in Manchester last night with Sally. We met up in a proper old boozer down a side street near the Town Hall, where we pushed the conversation stiffly forward for an hour, about cats and our jobs and her house renovation, until she said that she was very tired and that she'd better go. She stood up to leave and said "I'm not really getting any connection, so..." "No, me neither," I said. It sounds a bit blunt but it was amicable enough and it's best to be straightforward at the outset.

Glad to have an hour to myself, I settled down with another beautiful pint of Mancunian from Brightside Brewery in Bury, and an essay about Larkin in the LRB, relieved not to be talking about window frames and cat litter trays. I rang Kim to tell her about it, and emailed Donna, who replied "You're lovely -- there's someone out there for you. I'm sure." I also texted Trina, just to quash any hopes she might still have.

On the train back I got talking to two girls from Preston, one of whom was an actress returning from an audition for a part in a West End show. They'd already told her she hadn't got the part, so she'd done what any sensible English girl would do in that situation -- gone out on the lash with her mate.

8 comments

I hope the bailiff doesn’t catch word of the wine club! Although, as always, you’ve chosen well.

I used to date actresses. They’re tragic. On a weekly basis they’re told, no, you’re too young, too old, too thin, not a blonde. It’s a ridiculous life. They need a lot of rescuing and that always appealed to me. Until it didn’t.

Wed 12th November 2014 @ 18:44
Comment from: [Member]

It’s ok with the bailfiffs. I’m a practised liar.

My middle daughter is dead set on being an actress. It’s the only thing she wants to do.

Wed 12th November 2014 @ 21:19
Comment from: smallbeds [Visitor]

Ugh, what bad timing. Maybe you could’ve offered to split the wine with the bailiff if he could just, you know… lose the paperwork….

Thu 13th November 2014 @ 17:00
Comment from: [Member]

Good idea but I’d be very reluctant to waste a bottle of Petit Verdot on him. He looked like he’s much rather have a nice tin of Carling.

Fri 14th November 2014 @ 10:30
Comment from: smallbeds [Visitor]

“What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s Bouvet Tresor, it’s a Saumur which is basically a champagne but from the other side of Paris, near Tours. They age it in caves cut hundreds of metres underground in the soft tufa rock.”

“Tastes lovely, a bit like Carling Chrome.”

[Looby turns to camera and wiggles his eyebrows up and down.]

Fri 14th November 2014 @ 18:54
Comment from: [Member]

Now that’s an idea! :)

Sun 16th November 2014 @ 15:04
Comment from: [Member]

i like those first dates when the night ends with “I’m just not feeling it! Thanks for your time! Good luck!” It is SO much more pleasant than the half-hearted “yeah, i had a great time…” exchanges that piddle on for a week or so….

Tue 18th November 2014 @ 02:43
Comment from: [Member]

Yes, I actually sat there smiling for a couple of minutes after she left, enjoying how honest and straightforward it had been. Good!

Tue 18th November 2014 @ 09:29


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