Prelude to Chez Gérard - Day 5

There it was right in front of me. His number, sexy barman’s number! This was now a sacred piece of paper. I nearly slept with it. Even though I had put the number on my phone, it was still sacred paper; my holy grail. It even smelt of him. (No it didn't) but that’s how delusional I had become.

I wondered when a good time to text was. Now I was home, was that too soon? Or should I wait until tomorrow? Well really the question was could I wait until tomorrow? The answer was plain and simple, no! However, in all my excitement, I knew that if I text him and he didn't reply then I would be up all night checking my phone. I doubt he was at home willing me to text him, he was probably already asleep.

Berkley was an odd one… He messaged me first, something along the lines of ‘Hello, my name is Berkley. What a charming picture…’ hmmm well charming wasn’t what I was aiming for with my picture but I liked that word. ‘…Would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me one evening to dinner?’ Oh I say! He was what I like to call an ‘old school gent’. They really don’t make them like this anymore. These species of men are very hard to find. But when you find them, they are very enjoyable in so many different ways.

I found his message just so enchanting that I had to say yes. Who wouldn’t! It sounded so romantic, like something out of a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers musical. The thing is, anytime I smell a hint of romanticism, (regardless of if I’m in delusional mode or not) I'm already planning the wedding! 

Berkeley and I were to be married on a summer’s eve in his beautifully big country mansion on his grand estate. The day after, we’d go shooting in the morning (never been, but it sounds delightfully posh) and have a fabulous garden party in the evening … yes, I really am that insane.

We’d had a few brief messages back and forth and a date was set… for 6 weeks’ time! That was when he was next available. See, Berkley was a consultant, he consulted all over the world (apparently) for companies that needed consultation I guess and that’s all I managed to find out. He seemed to not be that keen on messaging, at all. After the date was set that was it, the messages were few and far between.

I decided to text sexy barman on my lunch break. I figured that that would be a suitable length of time from when he gave me his number. Ok great, good, now what do I write? It occurred to me that I didn’t even know his name! Though for a text I didn’t need his name so that was not an issue…. What to write, what to write….. The problem with me is that I can’t just write something simple, it has to be what I consider amusing, but I couldn’t think of anything…

At the age of 40, Berkeley would have been the oldest guy I’d ever been on a date with. It made me realise how much of a child I still feel at times. I was nervous, probably the most nervous I’d been all week. There I was, back at Covent Garden Station (having taken the lift) anxiously looking around. There was this old man opposite me who smiled every time I caught his eye and he was starting to annoy me as I felt the need to smile back every time just to be polite.  Berkeley and I had arranged to meet at six but now it was coming to quarter past and I still couldn’t see him. Hmmm, maybe he went for a walk as I had turned up slightly late or maybe he chickened out? Well if he did, he would have messaged me I was sure of it. The old school gent would never keep a lady waiting. How very odd…. I decided to wait until about half past before I messaged him. I caught the old man’s eye again, he winked and waved.  Ewww. He then started walking towards me, great! This is not what I need when I’m about to meet my newly appointed husband for a date. As he got closer I began to realise…

Farking hell it was Berkeley! FORTY BLOODY YEARS OLD MY FECKING FOOT! This man looked about Sixty and that was me being kind! 

Fan-flipping-tastic, I was about to embark on a date with a GRANDDAD…