Isn’t it funny how something as innocent as a power cut can drive one's mind to madness, pondering over that crazy little thing called love. Well that’s what happened to me last Tuesday.
It began as a normal day. An average Tuesday morning. I was sitting on the train, during my journey to work, engrossed in my book. My mobile telephone rang in my big brown bag, rudely interrupted me from my far away world.
It was my boss. “There’s been a power cut Nikki. The office will be closed all day.”
An unexpected day off! How nice. However, it would have been nicer if I’d known the night before, or even earlier that morning, so I did not have to stumble out of my bed at an ungodly hour and ride three trains to reach my destination.
The next telephone call I received was from my colleague.“Nikki!” she said. “Have you heard the news? No work today! Where are you? Fancy coming over for coffee, bagels and a DVD?”
What a great idea! I disembarked at the next stop, my final destination, and made my way to my colleague's house. It wasn’t such a wasted journey after all. Luckily there were no magazines due to be sent to press. It was going to be a day of relaxation with my colleague.
“Sex and the City?” my colleague enquired when I reached her house. Another great idea.
I have never been an avid follower of SATC but I’ve seen snippets of the series and I’d have to be living on Mars not to know the character of Carrie Bradshaw and friends. So we sat on the sofa, with coffee and bagels, to indulge in the life of four fictional friends. As the story unravelled we couldn’t help commenting on the ups and downs of four young women searching for love, falling in love, avoiding love and trying to stay in love.
That four lettered word called love.
The power of love.
The thing which apparently makes the world go round.
That crazy little thing called love.
Our conversation moved on to real love, love that we have personally experienced, not the love found on the television screen between four girls from New York. We exchanged stories, we laughed, we sighed. I envied her true love. I despaired of my disastrous attempts of love. We decided to drink wine (it was noon by this time which we thought was an acceptable time to escape in a bottle of wine). We bonded over tales of love and loss of love.
We wore ourselves out talking about love. And then we realised the sun was shining in the real world. We decided to venture outside and stop thinking about love.
Once outside, in the sunshine, we headed to the local pub’s garden. Well it was our day off.
We sat in the beer garden watching the world whizz past. Okay, maybe not the entire world, just a small town called Stevenage where my colleague lives and our office is based.
Our next plan was to stop drinking wine and visit the pictures to watch 500 days of summer. Another story of love!
I began to feel uneasy. Is everyone obsessed with love? Has everyone found love accept me? It was enough to make a girl paranoid.
I sat in the pictures with my nachos and cheese sauce (it’s another habit of mine which is hard to break) and watched a man falling in love with a woman, and a woman resisting falling in love with a man. Was she insane, I couldn’t help thinking, why doesn’t she love him? He’s hopelessly in love with her, he’s honest, he’s cute, he’s faithful. Where do you find a man like him?! Oh that’s right, it’s the movies, it’s not real. Call me cynical dear readers, but at the grand old age of 35 I am very disappointed with love. The film was not helping matters.
After the film I looked at my watch and regrettably thought it was time I began my three train journeys home.
I sat on my first train, and I tried to shake off the memories of the days viewing and conversations, the memories of love. I opened my book to continue my latest novel. Twilight is the title of my present reading material. The story revolves around a vampire called Edward. This vampire called Edward has been searching for his true love for over one hundred years. Arrg, I painfully thought, what hope does a mere mortal like me have, if Edward has been searching for over one hundred years? I very much doubt I shall live for one hundred years, and if I do, I may have forgotten who I am, let alone the meaning of love.
Therefore, I was glad to return to work the next day. I buried my head in PDF problems, paper queries and invoices, glad of the distractions and the work load. I was trying desperately not to think about that crazy little thing called love. I refused to waste any further time or effort thinking about the subject.
(Please, no more power cuts!)
And then something very strange happened.
Stranger than me finding love!
It was an out of the blue, sudden, dramatic change.
Something that I would not have thought ever possible.
Yet it happened.
And it certainly stopped me thinking about love.
But you'll have to read my next post to discover exactly what it was.