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Julie is working for the police

  Thu 17th May 2012

Kathryn, aka Rhode Island Red, regrets that she "forgot" that we were supposed to be having a night at the pictures watching Into The Abyss by that master of central European comedy, Werner Herzog. People do forget things, and we know we're not after one another, so I've suggested Le Havre on Monday instead.

Why am I so pleasantly tolerant to her and so horrible to the Prof?

To my friends' attractively messy house, with a dirty kitchen from which an almost entirely enjoyable meal was produced.

He's a psychiatric nurse, a kind, long greyhaired biker type, one of those blokes who get passed over for years by women who turn to him when they want to complain about the poor boyfriend choices they've made. Finally, he's met a curvy gothy girl from Northumberland, who dresses in pleated black miniskirts and platform thigh boots and says "fillim" for "film". They clearly like each other. It's not made up.

One should try, when one is a guest. But even by sight, I turn from beef. I slathered it with large spoonfuls of horseradish sauce and struggled through half of it, but I was beginning to retch, trying hard to turn my mind into the conversation and away from the foul physical and psychological feeling of stringy bits of bottom caught in my teeth. The rhubarb and ginger crumble with clotted cream was a purifying, tart conclusion. I only wish I'd taken some dry sherry rather than Leffe; Leffe and rhubarb don't marry. But we drank it all anyway.

The other guest, a mutual friend, was telling us about his squatting days when he lived in the house in Hampton Wick which was a cynosure of Operation Julie, the regrettably successful police operation to break up one of the world's largest LSD distribution rings

Him and a fellow squatter-- neither of whom were involved in the trade--went up to the attic one day to find the entire floor space ankle deep in LSD tablets. My friend said "Let's get our rucksacks and pinch some!" "You do realise, Tom, that the police are recording this conversation?" He's adrift after the woman he was with for twenty-seven years died a couple of years ago. "I feel like I'm crawling along on all fours."

At home, I turn the computer on. Someone "likes me" on the website and I am pissed off. How can you like someone without words, a drink? On Friday, Mel went to the bar. Watching the attractive switch of her arse, I pulled her chair a few inches nearer to me so that she'd be closer to me when she came back. That's liking. I can feel my drunken impatience.

Such is the mediated nature of modern attraction. Fucking relax lad. Don't start getting arsy again with women who show an interest.

I look at her profile. A sentence about Meccano which she deftly turns into a self-mocking awareness of how that will come across. Brown hair hairgripped up, looking a bit quizzical, honest, not putting anything on, aware of the artificality. All I can manage after all that Leffe is "Bloody hell, nice hair. But why, H, why?

Next day she writes back an email which ends with "Oh... and I'm aware I've not told you why I liked you. Well, [first,] because of the way you looked [...]."

Because of the way you looked. Thank fuck for that.


Comment from: Furtheron [Visitor]

There is a novel, or a film in your lifestory I’m sure of it… :-)

I like your observations in itallics - the one about the Prof… so what do you think about that? Why more accommodating to others?

Thu 17th May 2012 @ 10:36
Comment from: young at heart [Visitor]

Operation Julie…..a blast from the past!! This whole dating thing is really begining to depress me….mine not yours although yours is begining to bring me down too…. tonight am going to the Barbican to see the Bauhaus exhibition with some 57 year old with arrested development who thinks 3 weeks between dates is de rigeur….oh shoot me now!!!

Thu 17th May 2012 @ 14:06
Comment from: [Member]

Oh no, that’s no good… three weeks is far too long. It’s not cool to make them wait.

No idea F… well, I have some but they reach down under stones that are best unturned.

Thu 17th May 2012 @ 15:33

Good for the nurse. There’s someone for everyone out there.

Bad meals have a place in this world. They serve to show you just how good a good meal is.

Not kidding here…is Operation Julie the inspiration for The Clash’s Julie’s In The Drug Squad?

Wish I was going to the Barbican tonight.

Thu 17th May 2012 @ 22:57

A sentence about Meccano?

How the hell do you work Meccano into a conversation?

Was it
“Do you want to come around to my house to play with my Meccano set?”


“Are you any good at screwing nuts?”

Fri 18th May 2012 @ 01:09
Comment from: [Member]

UB: 1) Just one meeting so far, but I like her a lot. Same social level as me, literate, and really fit [=goodlooking, physically attractive]. Bit worried as she hasn’t said anything since Monday, but she’s a busy lass.

2) Shit food–can tell you’ve been to Las Vegas :)

3) Yes! I didn’t know the song until I got home and wikipedied for Operation Julie. Well spotted.

4) Me too! Hope YAH gets on OK with her widely spaced date.

TSB: There was quite a rambling paragraph on her profile which started “Ok, there’s the obvious stuff but I’m not interested in having a fling based on my having a lovely set of meccano models. So, apart from my penchant for 1950’s construction toys (this is a lie) […]”

What man isn’t going to find that interesting?

Sent her an email three days ago. One lives in hope.

Fri 18th May 2012 @ 07:56

I could make a comment like, she’s obviously looking a for a missing screw, but it’s too obvious, so I won’t.


It’s nice to see that Homer and I agree on something, even if it’s that you’re a rather insensitive *&^%$%^&

Fri 18th May 2012 @ 08:27
Comment from: nursemyra [Visitor]

Let me know what you think of “Little Bob” after you see Le Havre

Sat 19th May 2012 @ 00:11
Comment from: [Member]

your dating is making me tired… it must be emotionally exhausting for you. easy to get jaded. i only did online dating for 3 months (met a lovely gent there), but couldn’t take it any longer…

Sat 19th May 2012 @ 13:12
Comment from: [Member]

I’m bored with hearing about it too :) But it’s my only option. I’d love to be proved wrong but I can’t get anything moving IRL in Lancaster. There just aren’t the women.

Sat 19th May 2012 @ 15:25
Comment from: Redbookish [Visitor]

“Why am I so pleasantly tolerant to her and so horrible to the Prof?”

Seems to me the answer is fairly obvious. In one of your lives, you’d have liked to be a Prof yourself (otherwise, why embark on a PhD – it’s too much like hard work, as I tell my own hapless PhDers), and her success underlines your faint suspicion of failure? And your sense that women are not meant [really] to be *that* clever. Or at least, demonstrably cleverer than you. Unless, of course, they start by ripping your trousers off.

Yes, of course, my comments are cruel – just as yours on the Prof are. Give her a break, she’s just a human being wanting probably much the same things as you.But you’ve judged her in a way she didn’t judge you. You never know, she might be part of just what you’re looking for. Or maybe thinking she’s not what you’re looking for, the encounter will help you work out what you *are* looking for.

Mon 21st May 2012 @ 10:11
Comment from: [Member]

I would object only to the part in which says that I have a sense that women are not really meant to be that clever. I’m attracted to clever women–it’s a necessary condition for me and inextrivably linked to how physically attractive I find a woman.

Mon 21st May 2012 @ 10:22

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