Behind enemy lines

I wake up a few minutes before my alarm at 13:25.

Checking my phone I have two messages.

One of them, a friend of mine want me organise Salsa tonight, but I know that I cannot make it so I phone her and apologise. Hopefully we will hook up next Monday.

The other message is regarding a seminar I have booked for the 28^th of the month. Among other things I have a few tasks to organise: Most importantly, I need to confirm my trip to Egypt at the end of the month. I also confirm my attendance to a hip-hop/RnB night tomorrow evening at SO.UK The Egypt trip means I have to cancel the already booked seminar and shift a hospital appointment.

Nonetheless, along my travels I meet with my accountant and together we go for a coffee in the nice place in Catford. At the coffee shop I am reminded of the importance of Groundwork as I meet a girl, whom I chatted with a couple of weeks ago. I notice her playfully flirting with me, which I of course, respond to accordingly. Over a coffee and couple of iced drinks my accountant I discuss at length the strategy of chatting up women. We say goodbye and I leave.

I walk to my friend in a Record Shop and pick up the latest release, Teedra Moses, a fantastic RnB soul singeR. I also find out some details about tomorrows trip to SO.UK. I return to the Coffee shop and ask the girl if she wishes to come along… she responds coyly by telling me that she will let me know tomorrow. I tell her I will swing by to find out the answer. (She is 19 years old and goes off to University in two weeks time so I realise that I do not have much time to make a move on her)

I go home and them make some breakfast before a meeting I have this evening.

My hair needs styling. I experiment with the VO5 Rework fibre putty, but the result is messy and now that I have used peroxide on my hair three times, it is thin and lifeless. In the end I use the Wella Shockwaves Ultra Strong Gel. Which is, as the name suggests, ultra strong. Although it has been only two weeks since my last haircut, I believe that I need another.

My shoes, by Jones the Bootkmaker are a light crème leather, the same shade as my Ralph Lauren Polo Shirt – which I wear with the collors turned up, the way a polo shirt is meant to be worn. Arguable they are both the same shade as my hair but nevertheless I also wear my French Connection Denim Jacket along with my fitted jeans by Zara. I must point out that the two shades of denim do not match, as that would make me look like a tourist. Scentwise I choose Man, by Jasper Conran - I find this scent to be mature and masculine.

I venture into town to meet the animator for my commercial. At the train station I am delighted to find that a considerate soul has left their used travelcard in the machine for me to use. I consider this to me a good omen.

I meet the animator and we agree on some good ideas. Then wo go our separate ways.

At this point I find myself as a loose end. It is roughly 20:30 and I am alone in the big city. I ponder calling an old friend from university to go out with her but I decide against it as I am wearing the same shoes and polo shift as the last time I saw her - invariably she would consider me to be a tramp. In the end I decide to walk along Shaftsbury Avenue to SO.UK to check the venue before tomorrow. I notice that the girl behind the reception desk is pretty and before she lets me through to the rear club area I ask he whether or not she will be working tomorrow night – the answer is affirmative and I make a mental note to remember her. The club area is very nice, it is tastefully decorated and I believe that tomorrow evening could well be a very nice night. I thank the girl with a wink and walk out.

Then I head down to Leicester Square to see if my friend is at Salsa in Sound. She is not and then I aimlessly walk towards the square. At this point, a man hands me a flyer for a free drink at The Buzz bar which then head down to. It is empty so I immediately leave again. On the way out I see two girls heading in and I tell them that it is “fucking shit” but they too have the vouchers and after a quick chat we decide to go in together.

I spend the next two hours with two girls who are 19 and 20 respectively, two marvellous ambassadors to the Australian people. We have a really cool time and as they leave them I pass them my number telling them to give me a call if they are in town again.

After two minutes of sitting alone I turn the table behind me to apologise to two nice girls for disturbing their conversation earlier in the night with my misbehaviour. I then skilfully manage to integrate myself onto their table and pretty soon the flaming sambrucas are flying back. The girls names are, ***and ***. I make a mental note than ***name is very much pronounces like *** which I find amusing because she really is. She is 22 and from the Czeck Republic. At 6”1 and with beautiful blonde hair she cuts a striking figure in the September evening.

Kissing them on both cheeks I say goodbye on the street outside - I pass ***my number and ask her to give me a call.

I then leave them and walk to the station utterly smug in the knowledge that I have actually gone out in London for the first in my life ALONE, and had a really cool time.

As I walk I quietly hope to myself that *** will call me one day. Somehow I doubt it, but nonetheless, I walk with the arrogant strut of a man who knows that – for one day at least - he is the don.