Italy... I wish!

We didn't drive to Italy. We both have jobs remember? I would love to spend the rest of the year traipsing through Europe, spending all my money and having wild adventures but I had to get back to work to sign the company Christmas Cards, rearrange my desk and set up meetings for the new year. Bollocks!

Stoner got back from Amsterdam yesterday especially for the Christmas Party. Bad news. There isn't one this year. (Unless you call the Accounts department meeting for a drinks at the local bar a party. I'd rather go home and watch Eastenders...) All the fun people are away this year. Gay Boss is still in South America, Bimbo is still off work and Scruffy Artist is still too moody to talk to people. He's still refusing to unlock his office door, claiming that he needs to concentrate.

The last time Scruffy Artist locked himself in his office his girlfriend cheated and left him for the bass guitarist of "Eat My Nuts"; the rock band that play at the local pub on the first Friday of every month. I've seen them play once and they sound awful! If there was ever a reason to commit suicide... I'll probably try speak to Scruffy Artist later and find out whats eating him up.

I like to help people with their problems. I think this stems from my urge to know about everyone's lives. Whenever I meet a new person I'm curious to find out as much as I can about them. I like piecing together the little bits of information I have and building a picture.

Scruffy Artist is difficult to evaluate. He's very quiet most of the time and he's reluctant to share his personal problems with anyone. I found out about his girlfriend and the bass guitarist by doing a little digging around. I spoke to a few people. Spied on the band for a bit.... Well I had to find out what was wrong with him didn't I? It was driving me crazy!

Now that Stoner's back I think the two of us have some intense detective work to keep us occupied until the end of the day. Maybe Scruffy Artist is in love with someone... I would love to play match maker for a while.

Paris

The drive to Paris was long and silent. Solicitor was lost in his own thoughts. Even though I was dying to ask him what was on his mind I kept quiet. The last thing he needed was me probing.

It was extremely late by the time we arrived at Aimee's town house. Solicitor unlocked the door with his key and walked in. An extremely tall, thin woman ran down the steps and lunged herself into his arms. She began sobbing uncontrollably. He led her to a nearby room and shut the door. I stood where I was for a few minutes unsure of what to do. I finally decided to go into the kitchen and make some tea. I sat at the breakfast bar slowly sipping tea as the hours ticked by. I finally fell asleep with my head resting in the counter.

It was bright outside when Solicitor gently woke me. He massaged my stiff shoulders while we whispered to each other. Aimee had fallen into a deep sleep on the couch in the living room. Apparently she had taken something when she called Solicitor. She freaked out and thought she was dying. From the way Solicitor was talking I could tell that she had done this before. He looked tired and warn out.

We quietly raided all the bathroom cabinets, draws etc and disposed of any medication. I found a shoebox in Aimee's en suite bathroom. The box contained a plastic bag full of white powder. I knew what it was before I'd even opened it. Cocaine. The box also contained a little bag of pills. The pills were imprinted with smiley faces. I was pretty sure they were ecstasy.

I walked into the bedroom and showed Solicitor expecting him to be as surprised as I was. He regarded the content of the box and sighed. He flushed everything down the toilet and replaced the box where I'd found it.

We sipped coffee and talked quietly in the kitchen while we waited for Aimee to wake up. Solicitor checked on her every hour to make sure she was okay.

"How long has she been like this?" I finally had to ask. There were so many questions in my mind and I couldn't hold back.

"A long time."

"Since your son passed away?"

"Before that."

Solicitor told me that Aimee had been taking drugs pretty much as long as he'd known her. She hid it well from him at first but things got worse when her career was put on hold when she got pregnant. Solicitor first found her snorting cocaine when she was five months into her pregnancy. She agreed to stop taking drugs as long as she could continue with her career after the baby was born. But things got worse. She refused any help and they quarrelled constantly. I listened for hours as Solicitor told me everything about the breakdown of his marriage. Holding his hand.

Aimee woke up late that afternoon. She looked so fragile standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiled shyly and apologised sincerely about "messing everything up." She looked so childlike I had to fight the urge to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. She convinced us to stay for dinner before driving home.

When I first saw a photograph of her I had been so jealous of her thin boyish figure and model good looks. After meeting her my insecurities vanished. There was absolutely no chemistry between Solicitor and his ex wife. Aimee didn't seem to mind my presence. In fact she seemed happy that Solicitor and I had found each other. She's a genuinely friendly person. It’s a shame she's so unsure of herself. She seemed so...lost.

Solicitor and I held hands as he drove to Calais that night. He frequently squeezed my hand and kissed my fingers. We shared my emergency cigarette as we stood in the cold waiting for the ferry. He smiled and kissed me. His nose was cold but his lips were so warm.

"Wanna drive to Italy?"

Amsterdam

I'm late for work. Who cares. Gay Boss is away, Bimbo has taken the week off, Stoner is in Amsterdam, Scruffy Artist has locked himself in his office (he's slightly moody today), and I haven't bothered with the Accounts department. It gives me time to write about my trip...

Switzerland was truly amazing. We stayed in a wonderful hotel overlooking a lake. The mountains in the distance were breathtaking. I would have been happy to live there for the rest of my life... I'm not going to bore you with romantic stories. Besides, I'd rather keep those moments to myself for now. I may share at a later date.

It takes approximately 14 hours to drive from London to Switzerland so making little stops on the way back was part of our plan.

One of our last stops was Amsterdam. It wasn't technically en route but we both agreed that it would be worth the extra few miles. I called Stoner while we driving through Holland and asked him if he wanted to take a last minute flight and meet us there too. He agreed without persuasion.

We met up in a coffee shop called The Grasshopper. Stoner, being the expert on cannabis, chose a gram of Super Silver Haze from the menu. It was the most expensive thing on the menu costing almost double the price of the others. After rolling a spliff up Stoner took a long puff. He coughed deeply. Stoner smokes all the time and if he had a "virgin lung" cough then I should have realised that it was way too strong. I smoked it anyway and before long I felt the buzz kick in. I silently sipped my hot chocolate and tried to concentrate on the conversation between Solicitor and Stoner. The psychedelic dance music seemed to get louder and louder. I felt Solicitor push a bottle of water into my hands. He smiled and urged me to drink it. Did I really look that bad? God I felt like such and idiot!

We decided to pass on walking through the red light district. We'd all seen it before and it would have wasted time. We went to another coffee shop before stopping at a restaurant for dinner. During dinner Solicitors phone rang. He diverted the call without answering. It rang five more times before he switched off his phone.

Later that night he switched on his phone to check his messages. By then I was dying with curiosity. He swore under his breath and went for a shower. When it rang again I checked the name flashing on the screen. "Aimee"

Okay, I know I shouldn't have done it but I answered the call. Nobody calls someone 20 times in one day unless it was important. I couldn't help myself.

"Hello"

...Silence...

"Hello?"

"Are you Elise?" She knows about me!

"Yes. (Solicitor) is in the shower. Is everything okay?"

"I need him to come and get me"

At this point she started crying. Shit! Something bad must have happened to her. I started to panic.

"Whats wrong? Where are you?"

"In Paris. Please! I need someone here with me!"

"Are you hurt?"

... more sobbing...

I pounded on the bathroom door before walking in. Solicitor was standing naked in the shower with shampoo in his hair. God he's gorgeous! I told him Aimee was on the phone. He swore and quickly rinsed his hair. I handed him the phone and walked out of the bathroom to give him some privacy.

When he emerged he had a thunderous look on his face. Thinking that he was angry that I'd answered his phone I started to apologise. He cut me off and told me that he needed to go to Paris. He started dressing and packing and I felt a wave of panic. I sat down and contemplated on asking if I could come. Or maybe I should just give them some privacy. I was so confused!

"Elise! We have to go, can you start packing your things."

So I didn't even have to ask!

I called Stoner as we got into the car and explained that we had an emergency. He seemed too stoned to care. Probably finishing off that Super Silver Haze...

The shortest post

This is the shortest post I have ever written....

I'm off to Switzerland for a week with Solicitor. We're driving through Europe and making little stops at hotels on the way. Hmm I wonder how many countries we can cover in the given time...

I hope that we stop off in Paris at some point. Maybe I can convince him to meet up with his ex wife. They are still friends and I am so damn curious!

Aunt Elise

My sister is an "anorak" person. The type that spends her holidays taking long muddy walks with the dog and buys clothes for practicality as apposed to fashion. Her wardrobe consists of fleece jumpers, light blue shapeless jeans, mustard walking shoes, wellington boots and, yes, lots of anoraks. For her anniversary I bought her and her husband a spa treatment weekend (lord knows she needs her hair conditioned!).

Early Saturday morning I drove to Devon and picked up my nephew. I had offered to baby-sit for them while they "had a go" at the spa. My nephew is a sweet polite boy. I feel quite sorry for him sometimes. His parents seem to want to dress him in Trax trainers, fleece jumpers, blue jeans and, yes you guessed it, anoraks, without any regard at all to children's fashion. I know he's only 6 years old but children can be so cruel at school. The slightest difference can cause teasing. Imagine what the poor child goes through every day!

I grasped this opportunity to be Cool Aunt Elise and took him shopping as soon as we got back to London. Within an hour he was completely exhausted and I had successfully bought him new t-shirts, Converse trainers, fashionable army trousers and some sports hoodies. Children's clothes are so inexpensive!

Solicitor called me while I was driving home through the town centre. I had forgotten to bring my hands free kit so I put him on loudspeaker and asked my nephew to hold the phone up near my ear as I battled through the traffic. I luckily missed crashing into another car by inches. I broke hard and swore. My nephew found this incredibly funny and started laughing. I quickly asked Solicitor to meet us at my place and hung up. I spent the journey home explaining why swearing is very bad.

It was only when I arrived home that it occurred to me that seeing my nephew might erupt some bad memories for Solicitor. His son was around the same age when he died and his dark hair and large brown eyes were very similar to my nephew's. When he arrived I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. He recovered quickly and offered to play Ludo with him while I prepared dinner.

When I'd finished cooking I found them both talking easily with each other. My nephew's eyes were lit up and he was animatedly describing his pet hamster. Solicitor’s eyes met mine across the room. I don't quite know what passed between us but I my heart felt so...warm.

Later that night the three of us sat on the sofa and watched Disney's Lion King. I'd dimmed the lights to create a cinematic effect. My nephew sat between us holding a big bowl of microwave popcorn. By the end of the film he had fallen asleep on my shoulder. Solicitor carried him into the spare room and pulled back the covers while I dressed him in his plain blue cotton pyjamas. The poor kid should have Looney Toons ones or something. What was his mother thinking buying plain Marks & Spencer pyjamas for a 6 year old? I must remember to buy him some new ones for Christmas.

A few hours later the two of us went to bed. It was the first night that we'd slept together without having sex. We were content with just holding each other through the night.

The quickie in the morning doesn't count!

Sexy Models...?

I've never "hated" my body. I'm perfectly happy with my breasts, thighs and ass. I've never purchased cellulite cream or been on a crash diet or complained about being fat. I like the shape of my nose and my big eyes. I'm lucky to have thick, long hair. I don't have to blow dry it or straighten it. A few brushes with a hairbrush normally does the trick.

Last night everything changed. I spent the night at Solicitors and I found a picture of his ex wife. She is absolutely beautiful! Her hair is paler and blonder than Bimbo's. Its cut stylishly short emphasising her big brown eyes. She has a tall, thin model figure. Her camera pose is as perfect as Posh Spice's. The right amount of attitude that oozes sophistication. I suddenly felt frumpy and odd.... It was not a nice feeling.

Solicitor saw me looking at the photograph and he probably guessed what I was thinking about. He pulled me into his arms and told me that nobody has ever turned him on as much as I do. Now I know that all you guys probably think that's a great thing to say, and I suppose in a normal situation it would be, but it made me feel like a cheap porn star!

Solicitor's ex wife was a model! She used to strut up and down runways showing off fashion for a living.

Solicitor told me that models are not sexy. I beg to differ. If models do not have the "ideal" figure then why are they the ones modelling fashion? More people find Keira Knightly's boyish figure more appealing than Catherine Zete-Jones's curves....

Any thoughts or opinions?

The Elite Oxford Group

I spent the whole morning playing Pacman on my computer. I made seven cups of tea, ate four Jacob's crackers with Philadelphia cheese and I rearranged my desk. What a depressing start to a day....

I decided to take a wander down to Admin to see if Bimbo was as bored as I was. I found her sitting at her desk intently looking at her computer screen. She jumped when she spotted me.

"I can't find it!" she groaned

"Find what?"

"The article on the Oxford University Orgy Parties!"

Maybe I'd better explain.

A new part time employee joined the company on Monday. He's a student at a local university and he's earning his extra cash by sorting out the incoming and outgoing mail. He seems like a very quiet, aloof person. Almost gothic with his attitude to social interaction...

Bimbo, being a sensitive person, felt sorry for him so she invited him to have lunch with us yesterday. Hoping to bring Weirdo out of his shell I began a conversation about university, something that he could relate to. I did not expect the following:

"Did you go to Oxford?" (At this point I thought; Do I come across that posh?!)

"No, Oxford isn't really my scene. I stayed in London."

"Damn! I'm dying to find someone who went there."

"Why?"

"Because of their elite drug and orgy parties"

Bimbo choked on a mouthful of chicken salad. I struggled so hard not to laugh out loud. Who in their right mind would say something like that to complete strangers? I thought he'd realise what he'd said and stop there, but no... he carried on!

Apparently, Oxford University have a elite group of people. Once a year this group meet for a "session". They meet at a barn in a rural field. The barn has blacked out windows and is fully equipped with showers, toilets etc. Before the group are allowed in the barn they must produce medical results for STI tests and they are searched for any cameras or other recording devices, including mobile phones. They basically spend the night taking drugs and "doing everyone" as Weirdo put it.

"Man, I'd love to be there! Can you imagine? Buzzing on pills and just doing everyone!"

I glanced at Bimbo. She was red and in total shock. The silence dragged on so I thought I should say something.

"So, how do you know this?"

"I read it in an article. The guy was actually there!"

I guess Bimbo decided to find the article herself this morning. She'd used every search engine and checked out every online newspaper. She looked extremely frustrated when I found her. I asked her why she was so upset. Tears welled up in her big blue eyes. She couldn't sleep last night. She kept thinking about England's politicians, top lawyers etc doing that kind of thing at university.

I calmed her down and said that Weirdo was probably making it up, or he was misinformed.

I wouldn't be surprised if it was true...