Tales of the Unexpected, Part 3 of 3.

<Deep American voice on>

Previously, Mark’s promised weekend of passion failed to materialise as he was stood up on the Friday night and completely ignored by the online dating community on the Saturday and Sunday.  How much worse can it get?  Find out here…

<Deep American voice off>

On the Monday I awoke in a pretty miserable and crestfallen state.  I never used to tell my staff anything at all about my private life, so I was pretty surprised when I walked into the office and was greeted by an inquisitive receptionist who asked “So, how did the date go then?”

“Eh?  How did you know?”

“There was an answerphone message from your Friday afternoon client. Can you call her as she has a query on her Will and she also asked if your date showed up.”

Good Lord, I hadn’t expected that. 

“Look, for the record I was stood up, but for heaven’s sake don’t let the client know. She said that she’d go out with me herself if my date didn’t show and I don’t even want to try and explain that away to her… she’s in her mid-seventies!  Anyway, if she calls, as far as she is concerned, everything was fine.”

She passed the message around the office and I imagine it provided them all with some amusement for a while.  Amusement was the last thing on my mind… I was still shocked at my apparent invisibility to the female dating community.

I returned my client’s call and sure enough, her first question was “How was your date?”

“Ok thank you.  You had a query with your Will I think?”  Move on, move on. I didn't dwell on the subject of the date and fortunately she didn't push the point either.  It was a minor query – something about a middle name – and it put her mind at ease.  She said it had been worrying her over the weekend and thanked me for my time.

The weather matched my mood as the skies darkened and we had the most almighty storm.  A lightning strike close by knocked the phone system out completely and we could neither make nor receive any calls.  Great.  The day was going from bad to worse.

Fortunately, the fax line was working and we arranged for BT to re-direct all calls through to that one, but this meant that all the receptionist could do was continually answer the fax telephone, explain what had happened and that someone would get back to them as soon as the phones were fixed.

Near the end of the day, the reception was busy; the phone was being answered continuously, files were being put away for the night and the post was being done.  I walked into with the last few letters that I’d signed and the receptionist turned to me and said,

“I've got that client you saw on Friday on the phone again, she has another query and she’s worried about it.  She needs to speak to you urgently.”

“Ok, pass me the phone, I’ll deal with it.” I said.  I took the phone and asked my client how I could help.  At that time I was surrounded by 4 reception staff.

“Hello, Mark here, what’s the problem?  I don’t have the file to hand but am sure I can answer it quickly for you.”

“Oh, hello, well, it isn't really a query but I just wanted to say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since Friday. I’d love us to go out but of course, you may be looking for someone younger…”

The colour must have drained from my face as my staff suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked concerned.  One came up behind me to catch me if I fell backwards. I composed myself, motioning to them that I was ok.

“Err… well, that’s err… very… err... flattering and thank you but, err… well, I don’t think that would be appropriate really, would it?”  What could I say?  The staff obviously then cottoned on and a whole series of muffled sniggers went on behind me. How embarrassing was that!

The client said she understood and said goodbye, leaving me to deal with the now very amused staff.  Oh great. 

So not only had I been ignored by my peers, but I’d also been hit on by someone nearly 30 years my senior.  Was that how it was going to be from now on?  Was I past my sell by date?

Fortunately not – I’ll soon recount the most requested blog story of all, which is how I met my lovely partner Dawn – but that one week in the summer of 2008 took me through all the emotional highs and lows the Internet dating scene can provide.  

But the last non-internet bit was just cruel.

Tales of the Unexpected - Part 2 of 3

<Deep American Voice on>

Previously in this Blog, Mark has the hots for a cutie from a town 20 miles away, she cranks up the heat and promises him a weekend of passion but lets him down by failing to show.  He has a whole weekend at his disposal.  How will he spend it?  Stay tuned to find out...

<Deep American Voice off>

The story continues...

So I'd had a pretty rotten Friday night and was determined not to let the weekend's dating opportunities slip away from me.Therefore, just after 7:00am on Saturday, I was awake, up and on the laptop.  It was a blitz; every single dating site I'd ever registered on was launched and I was shown as available to chat.  The search filters were set slightly wider than usual and I began to trawl. By the way, that's generally what men have to do; trawl.  Women can fish. They sort through the offers they have and pick the ones they like, whereas most men (unless they are George Clooney lookalikes) have to be a bit more, well, shall we say flexible?  Look at her photo... does she have just the one head?  Are the eyes and ears in the right place?  Check the profile notes... does the word "deceased" appear anywhere in there?  No?  Then she's a possibility.

It was early and I didn't really expect anyone to be up and about at that time in the morning, so I sent a few messages and winks (for an explanation of a wink, see my blogpost "A Toe in the Water") before heading for a shower and then some shopping, returning at about 11:00 am.  I rushed to the laptop before even unloading the car.

But wait... that was strange...  my email account showed "0" new messages.  Was it broken? Offline? It must be... there weren't even any of the SPAM emails or usual messages from Russian Prostitutes (they always seem to be aged 28), 65+ year old rich widows promising me all sorts of riches if I became their lover or anyone at all from Africa. Ok... reboot required.

I made a cuppa while waiting (it's a Windows machine - say no more) and tried again.

Launch Internet Explorer.

Open email account.

Ah, that's better, 8 new messages.  But, hang on, we have 3 from companies offering me loans, 1 from the football team I support telling me that tickets for the pre-season friendly are going on sale soon, 1 from a travel company offering me discounts on package holidays, 1 from a mate about a party next week and the other 2 were trying to sell me Viagra (Who told them? That's what I want to know!).

There was absolutely nothing from anybody on any dating site.

Maybe it was still early, after all, it wasn't even lunchtime! I logged on again and saw a whole lot of different people online, but despite trying to chat, none of them were having it. What was wrong with me for God's sake!

More messages and winks were sent and I went out again, trying to kill some time.  I got back at about 4:00 pm and again logged on.  There were 10 new messages this time, but sadly all of them were SPAM.  Time was running out if I wanted a date tonight... I sent more winks, messages and chat requests but not one - I repeat, NOT ONE - got back to me.  My browser was zipping back and forth between dating sites as, one by one, people went offline (Probably going out on dates. Humph.) and as it crept toward 7:00 pm I had to admit that it was highly unlikely that I would be going out with anyone that evening.

For my own sanity I gave up, vowing to try again tomorrow and ended up spending a very lonely evening in front of the TV watching rubbish... there wasn't even football on as it was the close season!

Sunday morning saw a repeat of the same routine and got the same response.  Zero. The early morning and lunchtime trawl was completely fruitless and then I decided to break my own rule; I started contacting people without profile photos.

Now this isn't as shallow as it sounds; the general rule is that if someone doesn't put a photo on their profile, then they may be trying to hide something, possibly the fact that they are married, in a relationship, or not who they say they are.  But by now I'd got to the desperate stage where I just wanted to go out.

Finally, FINALLY, I got a response.  It was about 6:00 pm, her name was Linda, she said she was 48 and was about 15 miles away.  She couldn't really give me a reason why her profile didn't have a photo, so I asked if she'd email one and she agreed.  And then I saw the reason. If she was 48, I was Margaret Thatcher.

Anyway, at that stage I really didn't care as just wanted to get out of the flat. It got to about 7:00 pm and so I wondered if she wanted to go out for a Sunday night drink in a Pub somewhere?

However, that was met with a refusal; she was already going out on a date and now had to get ready. She therefore said her goodbye's and logged off.

So how bad was that?  The previous week, I was in a state of near euphoria at my potential weekend of passion with Charlotte, but in the space of 2 days that feeling had been quashed and I had been ignored - not turned down, but ignored - by the entire online dating community.  My self esteem was at an all time low, worse even than when I first left my marriage.  I was wondering if I would actually ever have female attention again.

Unbelievably, the pain still wasn't over and yes, it was possible for it to get even worse. Read about the tragic but comical conclusion in part three, to follow...

Tales of the Unexpected - Part 1 of 3

Ah, the power of the internet.  It can take your ego sky high or send it crashing through the floor.

When first on the dating sites, you’re the “new kid on the block” and the site veterans are all over you like a rash.  You feel wanted and anyone whose self-esteem is low will receive an almighty boost.  However, after a few weeks (unless of course you have already met the partner of your dreams) then you become a veteran yourself and interest in you naturally wanes.

It's therefore refreshing when occasionally, just occasionally, you come across a newbie.  Should I rephrase that...  oh, I'm sure you know what I mean.  Anyway, this blogpost is the first of a three parter that will hopefully take you through the whole roller coaster of emotions that the internet can provide, just as it did for me in the summer of 2008.

It started one Sunday evening.  There I was, having just registered on a new dating website, flicking through my selected females (basically any woman with a pulse and her own teeth) when I saw someone I liked the look of who was also available to chat.  My success rate at chatting in real time with prospective dates online wasn’t exactly great.  This was because the prospective date in question usually closed the chat window as soon as they saw my profile picture (apparently unflattering – see blogpost “The day I went to France and it was closed”) leaving me high, dry and talking to no-one.

But wait - shock, horror – this particular one (Charlotte) responded positively to my “Hi, wanna chat?” message.  That was that.  The rest of the night was spent in an online conversation that got flirtier and flirtier until we exchanged phone numbers.  The hour long conversation that followed just cranked up the heat.  We were getting on like a house on fire.

During the next few days things got even hotter.  When she discovered that I had the following weekend completely free, she suggested meeting up on the Friday night because if we hit it off we would have the whole weekend to enjoy.  If that wasn't a come-on then I didn't know what was! She lived about 20 miles away but luckily, I had a previously arranged appointment to visit an elderly lady client of mine in the next town to hers on that Friday afternoon, so it made perfect sense to meet her straight afterwards.  We agreed that I would call her when my work was done and we would then decide where to meet.

Roll on Friday, I couldn't wait! When I got to my client, I apologised for being informally dressed but explained I was going out on a date afterwards.

“Oh, that’s good,” my client said, “is she nice?”

“Well, I don’t really know”, I replied, “It’s our first date.  We've only chatted on the internet and phone but she seems nice so far.”

“Oh well, good luck. If she doesn’t turn up, I’ll go out with you.” she said.

Ah, bless.  A senior lady with short term memory recall problems, possibly early onset dementia and a zimmer frame flirting with a man almost 30 years her junior. The Harry Enfield sketch featuring the two randy old ladies leaping on their prey shouting “Ooh! Young Man!” came to mind.  Obviously it wasn't going to happen but I humoured her (she was my client after all) and we got down to the proper work and reason for me going to see her which included me preparing her Will and then taking her to the local hospital to get it witnessed by her psychiatric nurse and assistant.

On the way back, she re-iterated her offer should my date not materialise.  I smiled, nodded and shrugged it off before dropping her back at her flat.  It was now about 6pm and I was nearly bursting with excitement.  This, I was sure, would be one hot and steamy weekend coming up (it was July after all - what did you think I meant?) and I couldn't wait to meet Charlotte. Were the pictures she sent me a true likeness, or taken 10 years ago?  She looked pretty good, I have to say... a raven haired beauty with a curvaceous, hourglass figure.

I raced to a local pub, where I made my way to the beer garden, having first ordered a diet coke. Once settled and still bristling with anticipation, I looked at my watch.  Hmmm. 6:20.  Was it too early?  I "Umm-ed and Aah-ed" for a moment before calling her. I could feel my heart racing as her phone rang... and rang... and rang... and rang.  Then a voicemail message.  Ok, maybe it was too early.  I left a message letting her know I was ready and asked for a call back.  I texted her as well and then turned my chair toward the sun and soaked up some warm rays on my face.  

Time ticked on towards 6:30 and as I’d heard nothing I tried texting and calling again, but got the same result.   6:30 became 6:45, then 7, 7:15, 7:30 and I still hadn't heard from her. Nothing said in the previous few days had indicated anything other than a desire to meet up, so this was puzzling. I had previously mentioned that 7:30 would be the absolute latest that I would be available, so I called and texted yet again, but with no more success than before.

When it got to nearly 8:00 I had to accept the inevitable.  For the first time in my life, I had been stood up.

Rather annoyed (understatement of the year) I drove back to my flat and logged onto the computer to discover she was actually online on the dating site!  I angrily sent her a short 4 letter instant message – “Well?” – and got some waffle about how her friend was sobbing on the carpet in front of her having just lost her Mum so she couldn’t cope with this tonight as it reminded her of when she lost her Mum, yada, yada, yada.  Under normal circumstances, I would probably have been sympathetic, but as this excuse didn't mention losing the use of either her tongue or her fingers it failed to explain why she had been a) unable to leave a voice-mail or send a text advising me of this or b) why she was able to be active on the dating site despite this unexpected mental trauma.  That was that for me and I therefore told her her fortune before signing off and blocking her completely.

Determined to not be alone on my responsibility free weekend and craving female company, I walked across to the local pub, but sadly the only people there were either elderly couples or single men. As I wasn't quite that desperate yet, I came back home with a vow to not let the rest of the weekend go without some sort of female company.

And that was just the beginning.

DOH! Oh Dear!

A female deer…   No?  Oh well…

It’s always good to try to start off with something humorous as in my experience, if people are laughing, then they’re taking in what you’re saying.  And now you can have a laugh at our expense as we have both done something pretty stupid recently.

Those who followed my "The Search for Nessie” blog will know that we went to Scotland for our summer holiday this year.  Whilst we had decent weather (for Scotland) we thought it would be nice to get some proper sun on our faces and so booked a holiday to the Algarve from Southend airport on Easyjet at half-term.  Or so we thought, anyway.  The Algarve? Yes.  Southend airport? Yes. Easyjet?  Yes.  Half-term?  No.

The reason for this monumental cock up was ENTIRELY down to the fact that the new Principal at the secondary school that 3 of our kids attend had spent all of her time implementing her new zero tolerance uniform policy and not making sure the term dates on the school website were updated. Ok, ok, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the blame for not noticing that it said "School year 2011-2012" at the top. In fact, I only became aware of the problem after one of my staff said to me, “I thought you were away at half term?”

                “I am.”

                “I don’t think so; not unless your school has a different half term to everyone else’s. Half term this year goes into the first few days of November.”

The breaking of this news coincided with the arrival of a very firm letter from the new Principal advising that under NO circumstances would term time holidays be authorised. Brilliant. Having never taken any of the kids out of school before, here we were yanking three of them out at once.  But what were the options?  I checked to see if we could change but there was no availability the following week and the situation was exacerbated by the fact that the flights stopped at the end of October anyway so even though we could get out, we couldn’t get back.  Could we cancel?  I scoured my insurance policy but couldn’t find the “Imbecile Cover” clause so an insurance claim was a non-starter.  The cancellation fees would mean I would lose pretty much the whole lot and we couldn’t afford to lose that money, so the Algarve it is.  However, as I'm finishing this, we've just arrived and I'm sitting in the hotel bar by the pool sipping a hot chocolate as I survey grey skies and rain of biblical proportions. It's about 15 degrees. I guess that’s karma for you.

Bad as that may be, my lovely Dawn managed (in my opinion) to top this a few days ago and in doing so has given the RAC man a story to dine out on for weeks.

We've had a ton of expense lately and with anniversaries, birthdays and Christmas looming, what she therefore DIDN’T want to experience as she turned right into our road was an extreme tightening of the steering wheel accompanied by a sound akin to the rumbling of a distant aircraft.  As she straightened up it passed, but turning right into the drive the same thing happened, only worse as this was a sharper turn. The wheel encountered so much resistance she thought that something like the axle was going to break.  An inspection of the front wheels didn't reveal anything in particular that would cause that. 

Once indoors, she called the lovely helpful guys at Leigh Service Station and explained the problem.  One of them said,

                “Hmm, don’t try and drive it, call the RAC in the morning and get them to bring it round here.  We’ll sort it out for you.”

Helpful though that is, it’s not ideal bearing in mind that we were on holiday in a few days’ time, plus there was the question of how exactly we would be paying for this?  There were visions of trading it in and getting something newer but the timing for that sort of expense couldn’t have been worse.

The following morning we called the RAC who came out very quickly, within 35 minutes in fact.  Top, top service.  The guy wandered over and we left him with the key whilst we were trying to usher the last remaining child out of the door to go to school.

I watched him through the window examine the exterior but he clearly found nothing that would explain the situation. He then turned on the ignition and moved the wheel to the left… no problem.  Turning back to the right there was immediate resistance once he had gone past the centre and I saw him try to get it to budge but to no avail.  At that point I stopped looking as there were £ signs dancing before my eyes, so I went off to do something else. When I came back I saw him gingerly reversing the car out of the drive.  He seemed to take an age manoeuvring round before driving away up the road.

In just a few minutes he was back and turned right into the drive, seemingly with no problem.  Dawn went out to meet him and was prepared for the worst; after all her Ford Focus was coming up to 10 years old. I was inside, surveying the scene with fear and trepidation.  I half expected the RAC man to shake his head and pull a blanket up over the front of the car before taking it off to Focus heaven.

Instead, I saw Dawn clasp her hand over her mouth and then shriek with embarrassed laughter.  The problem had been caused by the cable from the Sat Nav to the 12V electrical socket being caught up and wrapping itself around the steering column.  This had created the resistance and the noise made was simply the straining of the cable on the socket.  As soon as he’d unwrapped it, everything was fine!

We both felt pretty stupid and it was one of those moments where you just want the ground to open up and swallow you.  I was concerned he’d charge us for wasting his time but he was very understanding about it and all’s well that ends well.  Top marks to the RAC.

But that was, as I understand the youngsters these days would say, an EPIC FAIL.

Dating Netiquette

One of the things that prevent some people from dipping their toes into the internet dating pond is the fear that they will date a completely psychotic nutcase and end up on News at Ten’s main story as a missing person, perhaps never to be found after a worldwide search or, possibly even worse, to spend their remaining days chained to a post in a dingy cellar being fed scraps and forced to perform disgusting and degrading sex acts.  And that's just the men.

Ok, that’s maybe a slight exaggeration, but certainly the “weirdo” factor is what holds a lot of people back.

However, with a little pre-selection and judgement, you can practically eliminate the risks of meeting a complete loon and the good news is that all you have to do is learn to identify the words used in profiles to cut through the descriptions to find out what someone is really like.

So, for your education and entertainment, please read the following for a crash course in internet dating selection techniques.

For Men – words and phrases used in female profiles and their true meaning - 

1) Aged 39 – Yeah, right.  See my blogpost Forever Young.  The chances of women getting internet dates over 40 diminish, so take this stated age as an approximation.  She may be 39… or she may also be 49.

2) Homely – Boring and frumpy.  This lady will like nothing more than watching soaps, cooking, knitting and baking things like cake and apple pie.  Chances are she’s the size of a small shed.

3) Curvy – Fat. Simple as.

4) Voluptuous – Not only fat but also dresses like a teenager in crop tops and miniskirts.  Some can, some can’t and boy, she can’t.

5) Cuddly – Totally obese.  She probably has her own postcode.

6) Bubbly – Annoying and probably fat as well.  Never knows when to be quiet, talks at inappropriately high volumes and has a frequency to her voice that can splinter steel.

7) Party girl – If she admits this then the chances are she is a clubaholic and will spend the weekends lurching between wine, vodka, the club, the pub, the toilet, a bucket and paracetamol.

8) Likes the finer things in life – This lady is used to champagne, fine dining, designer shoes, Caribbean holidays and you will be paying for it.  Best have a large wallet and/or a private income.

9) Athletic – Flat chested tomboy.

10) Fiery – Unless you want to have saucepans thrown at you, your clothes cut into shreds and continual shouting matches, don’t upset her.  In fact, probably best avoid.

11) Wonderful personality – Probably as ugly as they come.  Will make Bella Emberg look like Miss World.

12) Loyal – She will never let you out of her sight and will continuously be texting, calling or emailing either to find out where you are or make sure you are where you say you are.

13) Animal lover – Animal rights activist who’s idea of having a few pets means her house is a menagerie.  You can be dying in the gutter but when you fall, just be careful of that Chihuahua.

14) Artistic – Weird.  Her house will be totally abstract and off the wall, the unwashed plates and glasses will (according to her) enhance the shabby chic look and she will offer you things like "The Biscuit of Torment" with your tea.

15) Honest - She has Tourettes.  Don’t be easily offended.

So now, in the interest of equality, let’s do one for the Women – here are the words and phrases used by Men in their profiles for you to re-interpret.

1) Athletic – Watches Match of the Day, Golf, Rugby, Cricket, Athletics… and plays darts down the pub whilst drinking beer.

2) Handsome – What era is this bloke from and who told him?  Greta Garbo?  He’s probably a cad and a bounder to boot.

3) Attractive – Says who?  Everyone online says they are attractive and it means they basically have no visible facial deformity.

4) Fairly attractive – Beware.  He may have some facial deformity.

5) Told attractive – by his Mum.  Who he still lives with. Probably.

6) The best picture I could find – It’s old, he won’t look anything like that now and he’s getting the excuses in early.

7) Height, 5’ 10” - This means he is no taller than 5’ 7” and more likely 5’ 5”.  Otherwise he would put 6’ minimum (blokes lie about their height in the same way women lie about their age – unless of course they really are over 6’).

8) Manly – A tattooed, hairy Neanderthal who will shed body hair all over the carpet and furnishings and will love bottles, either as drinking vessels or weapons.

9) Willing to travel – He lives either on a friends sofa, with his Mum or his one bedroom flat/bedsit is such a hovel you would run a mile if you saw it.

10) Six figure income – Maybe, but in what currency and where is the decimal point?

11) Likes trying new things – Pervert.  

12) Adventurous – Kinky and makes perverted look acceptable.  For him, bondage and a ménage a trois will be a bit dull.

13) Traditional – Otherwise known as a chauvinist pig. You’d best be ready for a lifestyle akin to a woman in the 1950’s and woe betide you if his dinner isn't on the table at 7 pm with his shirts not ironed.  Oh, and forget about getting a job.

14) Entrepreneur – An ideas guy with zero talent for actually doing stuff and who lives day to day by somehow wringing money out of people so he can supposedly fund his next big plan that will make him a millionaire. 

15) Romantic – A smarmy slime-ball that will give you cheap flowers and call you “Babe” or “Princess” because he’s having trouble remembering your name.

There you go - I hope that helps.  Enjoy and learn.

Next time, there will be more dating stories for you.

Lucky Escape, part 1

Leaving my marriage was the hardest decision of my life. Most blokes who leave their families usually do so for one of two reasons;

1)  They have a girlfriend to go to, or

2)  They have been kicked out.

Neither applied to me.  I left because I could see that, once the kids had left home, I would have probably been a candidate for category 2 as I would have outlived my purpose and then I would be in my mid 50's and faced with the prospect of starting again.  I grew up an only child and didn't want to spend my retirement alone, so, once it became clear that the relationship had ended, I set about finding a new partner.

The thing is, as a middle aged bloke, where do you go to meet someone?  Clubs were never my thing when I was younger and singles bars might work for some but the prospect of them made me absolutely cringe.

I therefore had no trouble at all in embracing the idea of online dating.  All forms of life are on there and some of the earlier blogposts have recounted some fun and interesting times on dates that I had.

But what about the people I didn't get to date?  The ones who showed early promise and then something happened that made one of us change our minds and just not go any further?

One such example was Wendy.  I've changed the name, obviously, but for all I know that may have been her real name as she had one on her email address and one on her dating profile, that I assumed was a pseudonym.  She was apparently from a rather desirable part of the county and apparently had two grown up kids in their 20's.  She also apparently had a large estate in the USA, her husband apparently having been killed whilst in military service and she had apparently received several million dollars in compensation from the US Govt.  I keep using apparently, because she was also apparently a barrister.

Having had several conversations with her on the phone, we hadn't met but I had already had an offer to go and move into her 8 bedroomed place if my finances got a bit tight.  She also stressed to me the importance of due diligence when on the websites, making sure I fully researched all potential suitors in order to minimise the chances of discovering any nasty surprises later on.

So, in her case, I did, only to discover that neither of her used names were on the list of barristers in the Barristers Directory.  As I work in the legal profession and know several barristers myself, I was keen to see if we had any common contacts.  For some reason, she was extremely reluctant to discuss any sort of work issue, such as what Chambers she was in, other barristers she knew... any attempt to discuss it was simply brushed aside.

This made me a little suspicious, so I checked with the Bar Council and every conceivable list of UK Barristers and neither of her used names appeared anywhere.  In fact, no female name was anything like either of the ones she had used.

During our next conversation, I again broached the subject and she again evaded the question so I just asked, "Why will you not tell me where you work?"

"Why do you want to know?" she replied.

"Because we both work in the same profession and apart from the fact that we may even know the same people, when getting to know someone isn't it usual to share this type of information? Plus, I've done what you suggested and you don't appear on the Bar Council register. Previous experience has made me cautious, as you know."

Well, that was that.  She absolutely hit the roof.  She was screaming at me down the phone, saying things like why on earth would I think that she would use her real name to someone like me, that she'd shown incredible kindness and compassion (irony alert) by offering lodgings and how dare I question her?  I then received a text message saying that she knew lots of different types of people, some of whom would be coming to see me to rearrange my features, including some graphic descriptions of what they would do with a table leg and what appendages would be sliced off and stuck in my mouth. How kind and compassionate that was.  She must had graduated with Honours from charm school.

The woman was almost certainly a fantasist, most definitely a psychopath and it just confirms that all life forms are out there with most of them appearing on dating websites. Therefore, in an effort to retain my (ahem) good looks and appendages, I decided to make no further contact with her to try and get her to change her mind.

Mission accomplished and I remained in one piece, ready for the next exciting adventure...

Speed Demon

I’m not a petrolhead. 

To me, cars are simply vehicles that transport you from A to B and as long as it starts first time and doesn't require the fuel consumption to be be measured in gallons to the mile, then it’s an acceptable vehicle.  Performance comes so far down my list of priorities that I haven’t even test driven the last two cars I've had.

It may therefore surprise you, dear reader, to learn that I have had four speeding offences in the last 11 years… all of which occurred on deserted roads in the middle of the night, something which I felt pretty miffed about at the time.

The latest of these speeding offences occurred about three months ago and I was dreading receiving the usual £65 fine and 3 points. Therefore, I was unexpectedly surprised to receive a third alternative; I was invited to attend a speed awareness course that would set me back £95 but with no other consequences!

It was a no brainer really, so I booked myself onto the most local course I could and this blogpost, as a bit of a departure from the usual dating disasters, recounts the experience of that day.

I was one of the first to arrive for the lunchtime start and found the two guys running the course excessively enthusiastic.  I sat down and one of them, Jolly Mike, gave me a name badge “to display prominently”.  As my fellow criminals filed in, a balding, pale, wispy haired pensioner dressed from head to toe in pastel green and with big “Buggles” type glasses sat next to me.  Was this a man or a woman?  A search for an Adams Apple was initially inconclusive due to the wrinkly folds of flesh hanging down from the neck, but wait... was that a trace of lipstick or were they very rose coloured lips?  Hmmm.  Not sure. Then the person on the other side said something and a deep, gravelly voice responded… ok, he was a man then.  He had apparently been an HGV driver (amongst other things) years ago.

He was one of the last to arrive and there were only two name badges left, one for Janice and one for Sarah.  The presenter came across looking at his list, clearly puzzled, and said “What’s your name then?  I don’t appear to have you booked on.”

“Yes you do,” came the gruff response, “I’m Janice”.

At that moment it was as much as I could do to stop laughing out loud and clearly quite a few people had the same problem judging from the muffled sniggers emanating from around me.  These developed into a series of loud coughing fits as Mike handed over the name badge with a “There you go, mate” response.  It was like something out of “Little Britain”.  

These coughs lasted some time until Sarah, a native South African, completed the 20 strong group and we were underway.

The introduction was delivered by Bouncy Steve, with lots of smiling, head bobbing and forced laughter. Aside from the usual housekeeping stuff (fire exits, turn mobiles off, etc.) he said that RESPECT was the biggest thing and they would not tolerate abuse, sexism or racism.  Oh, and as they weren’t Government Employees or Police Officers, if anyone wanted to rant they were in the wrong place.  THEY DID NOT DO POLITICS!

Any questions?

“Yes,” piped up a voice from the back, “What time does it finish?”

“Five o’clock” said Steve, smiling and bouncing.

“Oh... it’s not a misprint then." came the disappointed response.

With that we were off but despite the previous warning, the first point someone brought up was… a rant.  There were 3 or 4 in the room clearly up for the fight and Bouncy Steve did his best to laugh and joke his way out of the situation whilst politely trying to remind people that they were speaking to the wrong person in the wrong forum.  Sarah started moaning about the fact that she was missing a day off work to attend this stupid course and didn’t have a choice.  Steve bobbed around the fact that she clearly did and could have taken the fine and points instead.  This prompted her to respond that it was clearly this country’s fault she was caught speeding (yes, seriously) as we gave her the licence to drive over here when she had in fact passed her test in South Africa and we didn't attempt to educate her about our roads.  Jolly Mike laughed through gritted teeth, suggesting that surely it was her responsibility to learn the signs and limits in the country she was driving in… then a voice from the back shouted out "Bloody Africans can’t drive anyway!", Sarah hurled back something along the lines of "Shut your face mate you don't know what you're talking about" and Steve finally stopped bouncing and bobbing.

“LOOK” he shouted, “We’ve got a lot to get through and I’m going to tell you all how it’s going to go, because I think I have to.  WE DON'T CARE!  This is all about YOU and your attitude to speed and you’re only here because you’ve gone over the speed limit.  Whether you take anything from this is up to you but if you don’t then this course won’t be offered to you again for at least 3 years so you’ll get points and maybe a ban.  So, let’s just get through the course, shall we?  I’ll skip the rest of the introduction as otherwise we’ll be here until 6. Let's move on.”

It was like being back at school but it did the trick and shut most people up, apart from a Yorkshireman called Graham who clearly said what he liked and liked what he bloody well said.  Every time he (frequently) opened his mouth there was an audible groan from the rest of the room.  One of his gripes was that there were so many road signs that he couldn’t concentrate on the speedometer, so what was he meant to do?  Someone (me, actually) suggested he might consider taking the bus and Jolly Mike indicated that it was his job as a driver to observe the road signs and perhaps he might therefore examine his driving ability and technique?

The rest of the course was actually very interesting and to be honest it’s the sort of thing that every driver should have to do occasionally.  The stats show that the introduction of traffic calming measures and cameras have reduced road deaths significantly.  

We had a lesson in road signs and how they get there… did you know it is purely reactive to the incidents that occur on that stretch of road? I didn't.


Also, road hazard signs are, of course, like this -

but when they have a yellow background like this -

it means that there has been a fatality or near fatality on that stretch of road. I didn't know that either.  

We are one of the world leaders in continuing road safety and are only consistently beaten by Sweden, who have a zero tolerance rule to road offences.  Is it therefore a co-incidence that their road deaths are the lowest in the world?  Maybe not.  Sadly, no-one is better at killing children on the roads than we are so that's one league table we are trying NOT to be top of.

Other interesting facts and stats –

     1)      Not one person in the room knew the correct UK speed limits for different vehicles on the different types of road,

     2)      Just 1% of the traffic on our roads is on two wheels (i.e motorbikes) but they are involved in a quarter of all accidents,

     3)      Urban areas account for about 65% of road accidents but have the fewest fatalities,

     4)      Motorways account for only 4% of all accidents and so statistically are the safest roads to be on, and

     5)      Most fatalities occur in rural areas where there is far less traffic, poorer roads, higher driving speeds and where it takes longer for the emergency services to arrive.

So I definitely took something positive out of it and am now more “speed aware”, which is the entire point.  How Bouncy Steve and Jolly Mike managed to stay so cheerful throughout is one of life’s mysteries and I take my hat off to them. 

But aside from anything else, my biggest deterrent against speeding must be to surely not to have to attend another course with people like that.