Wednesday, 15 May 2013

My Second Audition

Every time I get on the Eurostar or fly anywhere alone, a sick part of me wonders (even though you all know my theory about the L-word*) if this will be the journey that I am seated next to the Love of My Life...

On Saturday, when I was waiting at Gare du Nord for my train (I got there an hour early, having learnt my lesson last time), my eyes were drawn to a man sat a few seats away from me, because he was doing a big yawn and stretching across three seats. I recognised him from somewhere... then I realised, when I went to London for my RADA audition, he was sat next to me on the Eurostar and when I got off the train he chased after me because I'd left my pen behind.

I was sure it was him. I remember sneaking sideways glances at him on the train because I couldn't see if he was good looking or not. Unfortunately I was asleep for most of that journey and kept waking myself up by making funny little mouse noises...

I did fancy him a little bit, but I am suffering from a mild spell of Mass Boy Hysteria at the moment so fancy most people. But then he ran after me to give me the pen... a normal person would think 'that was nice of him' and forget about it, but I recognised the scene from the movie of my fantasy romantic life that plays in my head throughout long journeys, editing itself as I watch, constantly rewinding and fast-forwarding to the best parts...

She looks down at the pen, confused for a moment. Then she feels his large hand stroke her shiny hair.

"Oh my god," he says, turning red, "I did that without thinking. I couldn't stop myself."

She mumbles something and walks away, her head tingling as she remembers the soft pressure of his hand.

"You remind me of my cat." he shouts after her.

She turns round, a big smile on her face. He walks towards her and she waits for him, purring inside.

Bizarrely, the above scene has never happened in real life. (Once somebody told me that I look like Maria from 'The Aristocats'. They were being deadly serious so I'm inclined to believe them. They had taken magic mushrooms, though.)

Anyway, when it was finally time to board the Eurostar, guess who was in the seat next to mine? Pen Man.

I wondered if he recognised me too and if he believed in Signs and Fate. We were both reading books and he kept laughing to himself- he likes books and laughing, I like books and laughing...

Then two Australian people in the seats across the aisle struck up a conversation. They didn't know each other but it just so happened that they were from the same city. The guy split his time between London and New York oh my god no way so did the girl what a crazy coincidence, I love that bar, I don't know that area you'll have to show me round...

I realised that this would be the journey that some other girl met the love of her life. They chatted on and on in an annoying way for the entire journey. I had to close my book and put my headphones in just to drown out the sound of the guy's boasting:
"I have two sofas and a double bed in my room, it's pretty sweet." (That's an actual quote.)

They were both irritating and privileged, but I'm happy for them: even rich kids need 'love', I suppose.

Why do I always found myself sat behind two complete strangers who instantly click and spend the whole journey engaged in embarrassing, self-conscious 'banter' and 'flirting'? It's happened to me on the coach TWICE... at least the train only takes a couple of hours.

When we got to London, they were making everyone show their tickets for Some Reason and I'd left mine on my seat like a dickhead, so a woman had to question me and even though my passport looks like a counterfeit made by a wet dog and I couldn't remember when I'd last been in England or when I was coming back, she let me through. Unfortunately she didn't pass on the message and this HUGE woman, built like Miss Trunchbull, stopped me from getting past her and yelled in my face:


Before I could answer the other woman hurried over and explained about my ticket, but Miss Trunchball's eyes followed me suspiciously as I walked past. I felt like an illegal immigrant who had been hiding in the engine.

Lauren met me off the Eurostar and we went for lunch at Navajo Joe near Covent Garden and then, even though Lauren was really hungover, she dragged herself round the shops with me. In Central London. On a Saturday.

I really wanted to look in Topshop, as I didn't get a chance last time. I'd forgotten how insanely big the Topshop flagship is on Oxford Street. At one point I got a bit tripped out and felt like we were in a club- I'd barely slept, they were playing techno music and there were people pushing past us in all directions.

It was a good shopping trip- I was dreading looking for new jeans (if they fit me on the hips, they're too  tight on the bum and if my bum fits into them then the waistband is too loose and sticks out from my hips like clown pants) but I bought the first pair I tried on and... I found another magic ring!!

I was looking at all the sparkly rings, dismissing them because they didn't look like 'real magic' but then I spotted one that looked similar to my Magic Ring. I picked one up and looked into its turquoise depths... there was real magic in there, I couldn't believe how lucky I was! Lauren agreed it was just like my other ring, only more magic in a way because it was handmade in Africa (it wasn't actually a Topshop ring, it was one of the concessions) and each ring was slightly different. Also it is magic how I managed find exactly what I was looking for in the sprawling chaos that is the Topshop flagship.

Shit I have to go and teach now. Today I was supposed to be learning a new speech for my next audition as well... Oops.

*How it is a Made Up Thing and how, when people smile at me condescendingly and say 'You say that because you've never been in love', they are wrong because I 'love' my mum and I 'love' my eyebrows (sisters, not twins™) but I'm telling you it's just a word and what I actually feel towards my mum and my eyebrows is a strong mixture of emotions including attachment, concern and fondness. 


  1. Wow... that Navajo Joe website is disturbing, especially to someone who lives a few miles away from the Navajo reservation. They should have just named the restaurant "Random American Themed Food". Would have been more accurate.

    1. Hold on, hold on... you mean Native Americans don't really eat pulled pork and fries???

      If you thought the website was bad, you should see the Wild West show at Disneyland Paris, I went to see it because my friend dresses up as Minnie Mouse in it, I think you'd be outraged...

  2. Terrific story. My eyes were riveted to the screen; so much so I didn't realize my daughter had been calling my name for five minutes. Well, that's how long she says. The "meet cute" on the Eurostar is picture perfect-- I believe everyone wishes this is how they'd find their one true love. But, alas, real life isn't always written like a movie for everyone. :)

    1. A-ha, that's what it's called- the 'meet cute'. Thank you for such leaving such a lovely comment, keep reading!

  3. Hey :)

    In September I messaged you that I had been reading your blog and had finally come to give Paris au-pairing a try, and with it left my no. as I had only one invite so far which was a guy I met on the way here on the Eurostar! Which I thought nothing of at the time, but who is now my boyfriend and first L-word - so unprivileged au-pairs are definitely not exempt from train like fantasies happening!

    Also, I have a much more shameful hot water story than you, this will be my second half term without hot water - my family was basically completely non reactive to this situation and I'm a completely unassertive fool who went along with trying to fix it myself by playing around with the electrics like they suggested, and drying any 'water in my walls' with my mini radiator, so I have just put up with it.....with a combinations of those mini sink washes you talk about and using my other au pair friends drip of a shower, she is also being somewhat unassertive in not telling her family that having to shake your hose to get the water out is not really an adequate washing facility!
    Au pair shiz!

    Good luck with your second audition! Where is it for? I definitely think you should start blogging with whatever new city you live in next year!

    1. Ahh I remember you Fiona, I saved your number in my phone and was going to text you... not sure what happened and now don't have your number anymore as my phone is broken! Can't believe you actually met someone on the Eurostar, on your journey here as well! Are you going to stay in Paris then with your L-Word, when you finish au pairing?

      Your au pair family sounds shit, that's so annoying about the hot water. Before my shower broke the water pressure was really good but now it's fixed I too have to suffer from a drip shower. SICK of au pair shiz now, there's a reason most people only do it for one year...

      My second audition is for Guildhall, not holding out much hope now but thanks for the well wishes and thanks for commenting!

  4. I laughed out loud at your romantic day dream. You and me both girl. I always have high hopes, then some other lucky lady gets it.

    1. Ha ha a lucky lady like Fiona who commented above- proof that it does happen!

  5. I have to leave a comment. I read your blog before I moved to Paris, during my 9 months as an au pair and sometimes now Im back in the big smoke to remind me of the magic that was Paris.

    I came back in February to visit. I saw a guy on the platform. Thought him beautiful, wondered if he would be sitting near me. He sits opposite! Anyway, we share quite a few intense glances (it was just me n him opposite one another on the table) Im writing, he is scribbling away in a notebook, i see him try and steal a glance at what im writing. I go to the toilet and summon up the courage that when i get back I will talk to him. I get back and there is some lanky blonde sat about to sit in my seat. They explain they are friends and is it ok if she sits by me. The spend the rest of the journey discussing how her husband is managing Azaelia Banks (i think it was managing..) and he talks about how his friend Adele has really calmed down since the baby. The girl works for vogue (its fashion week) and he mentions he is djing at silencio and i know his name is Jack. I rack my brains for who he could be. It kills me. He makes a comment to the girl about the book he is reading, how he is only reading it so a pretty girl might ask him about it.

    I get into Paris and a day later and it dawns on me who he is. Jack Penate. I've only seen him in concert and fell in love when i saw him. Realising I tell a friend and we decided the best thing to do is to tweet him a message asking him about the book he was reading. No response. Love story over. The tweeting was maybe a bit stalkerish.

    1. Oh, what a disappointing ending to your Eurostar Love Story, although he does sound like a bit of a dickhead- talking about his famous friends on a train? Have some manners, Jack.

      Glad my blog reminds you of the 'magic of Paris'... I was worried I just make Paris out to be dirty and full of sinister perverts...

      Thanks for sharing your story!