June 3, 2010 by jessperriam
It could have been messy. It could have been a panic attack. There could have been tears before bedtime.
But I surprise myself sometimes.
What I’d imagined in my head to be a big teary, Casablanca style Rick being jilted at a Paris train station style farewell turned out to be uneventful.
No one wants to see hysterical tears on the Circle Line, especially when it’s peak hour with a rowdy bunch of Jewish boys wearing the Israeli flag as a cape, yelling at one another between two carriages.
And it’s not considered classy to be teary with mucus streaming down your face in South Kensington.
So what’s a girl to do but have a shower, go to the pub and force yourself to talk to complete strangers.
I never do this unless I absolutely have to.
Because I’m a wimp.
So pint in hand, I walked up to a group of two girls standing in the mews.
“Hey can I stand with you guys so I don’t look like a complete loser?”
Yeah, classy entrance.
So I went on a jazz gig at a bar at Royal Albert Hall. And it was amazing. The music was phenomenal. They even had a man called John Smith in the band.
Jetlag kicked in during the second set. I wasn’t being rude but I think I fell asleep with my eyes open.
Bed time was just after midnight. Goodness knows what time my brain thought it was.