Monday, August 18, 2003

”Help, help, I need some cheap white wine and new shoes! Lipstick! Glittery hairclips! Anything delicately scented and frilly! The testosterone is driving me crazy…!”
- slept in
- got up and started preparing the barbecue scheduled for the afternoon as Boatie Flatmate had promised to play host to the men’s squad before they all scampered back to the river for a boat party (they clearly can’t get enough of the Thames these guys…)
- made houmous
- the flat slowly filled with enormous men clutching cans of beer and steaks and sausages; I retreated to my room with an armful of job applications and the complete scripts of Father Ted as I was slightly overwhelmed by the testosterone level suddenly shooting up so rapidly
- August Dangerlove tottered into the bedroom after his afternoon drinking session nearby and had a little lie-down so I was relegated to the living room where I was surrounded by huge men wandering about taking showers and getting changed into dinner jackets, bow ties and dress shirts for their boat party
- Big Sister wandered in just as the men’s squad was leaving and found herself in a maelstrom of aftershave, cufflinks and shirtstuds, joining me on the patio where we sat momentarily stunned
- We sat and drank white wine and ate crisps and balanced out the boyish traces remaining in the flat with our girlie chit-chat about shoes, tan marks, our winter wardrobes and houmous recipes
- August Dangerlove woke up and joined us looking bewildered and a bit startled
- Sent Big Sis on her way and then tumbled into bed
- got up extremely early and toddled off to Brixton market to gather together a back-breaking mound of fruit and vegetables
- had brunch with Taz, a rare and pleasant thing where we caught up on everything that has happened since we last met oh so long ago
- showed him the flat and whilst there, we discovered Boatie Flatmate and a casualty of the night before cooking a reviving repast of sausages, still in their dress shirts and looking slightly green
- fired up the barbecue again for dinner after spending all afternoon writing and chatting to the casualty
- sat around shouting abuse at the TV as Titanicwas being broadcast then introduced Boatie Flatmate to the joys of South Park: The Movie. The second Leonardo DiCaprio finally died, we bore witness to the fabulous line uttered by Boatie Flatmate as he slotted the video into the machine “Right, time now for some Uncle-fucking”
- ended a long and fun weekend with the realisation that though my current household is male-dominated (very much so as this weekend has proved), my hateful workplace is very, very female dominated and my cycle has synchronised with everyone else and the cycle I assumed I was stuck on and have actually planned around it well and truly out of the window. This means that I was totally unprepared for the way I feel today which makes everything so so so so so much worse: I am now in the midst of crippling “Women’s Troubles” with a banging headache and an unutterable urge to KILL AND MAIM. A LOT. If I hadn’t done so already this time last week, I would have resigned today.

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