and then there was September

Last month started with far too much drinking and dinners for my bank balance to be happy with. The last Friday of August saw a big work booze-up at the ever welcoming local. The following weeks however were comprised of much-needed one-on-one catch-ups with various friends (and hyphens apparantly). A return to a friendly, speedy and reliable haunt in Soho(where they a) demand that you have another go at pronouncing your order if you didn't get it right the first time and b) shake their heads and sigh, but nevertheless will put cheese on a fish-based pasta if you ask really really nicely), was shortly followed by a nice little evening in the window seat at the Camden Bar and Kitchen (friendly staff, great vibe). Two days later I was off on a trip down memory lane (in a good way, not a PTS way, as is often the case with Oxford haha) to see Maya for an afternoon of lunch and tea at the Nose Bag (complete with afternoon stroll to the river). Then a Monday night treat of wine, risotto and tiramisu at the Charlotte Street favourite Ooze (the last time we had gone, we figured out half way home that due to the bill-splitting we'd over-tipped by about ten pound. Ka-ching) was warmly welcomed before taking half a week or so off work for a much needed holiday and trip back to the midlands to see the family. Then, just before our Freshers' week I was back at the Camden Bar and Kitchen to drink far far far too much wine with Nat (I'm sure this only made my political commentary all the more sophisticated, and well-reasoned, right??).

Now at this point, I was only half way through the month and my debit card may have been silently whimpering. Like the callous bitch I am I just demanded more service of it, ignoring it's plaintive cries. Sure enough, stubbornness was rewarded by Emma finding a fabulous Top Table deal to go to Pont de la Tour. Yes, that's just a restaurant next to Tower Bridge, called Tower Bridge, but in French. The imagination of the owners obviously knows no bounds. Nonetheless we had a great table outside, overlooking the Bridge all brilliantly lit up to the left, with the collapsing (we laugh only so as not to cry) Canary Wharf to the right. True, the patio heaters on full were a bit (very) naughty. The food was superb (Chloé the ex-veggy to my right tucking into a bleeding bit of cow-flesh that really shouldn't have tempted me as much as it did...), service great, piano-playing entertainment gloriously cliché, and the company (Em, Hector, Chlo) brilliant as always. Being quite swish, it was also a welcome opportunity to finally put on a dress and heels for a night out (which I *really* miss from Uni days). My, didn't we all feel beautiful and smug. Shameful. The walk (zig-zagging, admittedly) back along the river was a perfect end to the night.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't fine dining last month (!). I was introduced to the camaraderie and general delightful bitching of X-factor night at G-A-Y , complete with cocktails named after the judges (Louis Walsh is a kind of coconutty green). Now, I never normally watch X-factor, and have in fact been known to attribute to it the fate of Broken Britain on more than one occasion. It was a damn good night though, and many thanks to Tom for a lot of silliness. A return a few weeks later was (sort of) dampened by a problem with the TV feed which led to a nada-factor evening, but the cocktails remained (the important thing).

Then nothing left but for Freshers' weeks to roll out across the country, which is always a great time for getting asked the widest variety of questions in one day you can think of (everything from 'I dont' know who I am or why I'm here, but could you tell me where I'm supposed to be right now?” to “what cutlery is available in my halls” to “where can I purchase those delightful logo-d bags for life?”.

It's also a time to put names to the faces of all those applicants you've helped finally walk through the door. Well, that's the theory, but sadly doesn't really work for me as I have a horrendous memory for faces (and boy's names, strangely). From what I've read my facial recognition and retention is probably about the same as that of a two year old child. I suppose then that f I can associate you with chocolate pudding or plastic blocks you probably stand a better chance than most. I have to therefore spend my life either a) going around smiling over-familiarly with everyone which just unnerves those who don't know me, and are adverse to accepting me as their 'hey' girl (see here for details) or b) keeping my cool British reserve until such time as clues suggest I should really not be stand-offish with dear X who I've already been introduced to fifty-odd times (I still think the greatest victim in all this is Tim, who has far far too many friends, about 2 of whom I can ever remember. It continually gives off the impression that I don't pay any attention to them. Which isn't true. Honest.) It also means that I can never ever ever remember individual students' names. I don't have that much to do with them once they're here, so it's not vital to my job. But if you've been dealing with some of them for over two years, you feel you don't want to appear quite so dismissive...

The solution? Name-tags people. Name-tags. In a friendly font. Not comic sans though, that's just passé. Smiley faces instead of dots on the lower-case-jays are acceptable if they have one raised eyebrow to suggest a smirking cynicism.


Trips to the cinema this month: were lacking. Only one film, the Duchess, because my ma wanted to, and we thought it might be a good all round choice for a family outing. Mostly it was all very sumptuous and Keira atually quite good in the more vulnerable moments. A bit of political history was even acknowledged. Sadly though I will now be loathe to watch anything with Ralph Fiennes in every again as his face is now associated in my head with nasty rape scenes. I have the same problem with DeNiro after seeing Once upon a time in America. Oh dear. For something a bit fresher I'm looking forward to going and seeing well, at least one film as part of the Times London Film Festival in October though. I tried to get in on the Quantum of Solace screening but missed it, and Frost/Nixon was a bit pricey as it was part of the opening night gala. Nevermind. I've also been very keen to see The Fall since I first saw the amazing trailers months ago, but it has shamefully limited showings.

TV this month: Well, Dexter Season Two finished on FX. It was as guilty-pleasure entertaining as usual, although I was slightly annoyed at how long it took for anyone to wonder about the immigration status of the the pyromaniac British chick (played by Jaime Murray of “Hustle” fame in a bare-all role) waltzing around Miami in her self-employed thief/artist way. Making the character British seemed a strange and distracting choice, unless they were purposely going for the 'exotic' contrast to Rita's homely Americana girl-next-door (who would have thought in the BtVS/Angel era that 'homely' would every have been used for a Julie Benz part?). Or maybe Murray doesn't do accents? Ah well, I'm sure such things are described in DVD audio commentaries, but I'm not that much of a fan.

We also finished Season Three (the 'schools' one) of the Wire The Wire which raised the bar of excellence yet again.It really is the best thing on TV but you must watch it right through from Season one episode one to get the best out of it/in any way understand what anyone is talking about. By all appearances it is militantly anti-exposition which just makes me appreciate it all the more. We're on to Season Four now, but as this is just sitting on the Sky+ box rather than on DVD we have the irritation of ads (don't get me wrong though: I'd rather ad breaks still existed than be faced with even more product placement). I am very very glad Time and I watch this together, because if I had free reign I would watch the whole box set back-to-back in a day, and probably not savour and appreciate it half as much. Flatmates are obviously there to bring you back from the brink and say,no, you *can* wait twenty four hours until you see those opening credits again...

What else? Oh yes, we were kindly leant AMC's Mad Men (ta Pete) which is a bit of a slow burned but I've been loving it from the start: again, patience is a virtue.Their next big gamble,Breaking Bad, has only just started over here, so I'll comment later.

When I was out in Washington DC for a poorly-chaired conference in March, I caught a bit of the new HBO mini-series John Adams with Paul Giamatti. This started last week on Sky and is extremely good, keeping it's focus on the political process and decisions around the declaration of Independence whilst not disregarding the violence that is normally the focus of the historical 'patriotic' US blockbuster.

What was happening in the world this month: Well, a lot, and hopefully you were there, and paying attention. For political and economical commentary I'll merely refer you to Nat's blog. I may start putting my BBC news postings here rather than facebook, but we'll see.