Killer Coffee!

The madness continues! Having just boarded an airport bus to transport me 50 metres to my Paris flight I first had to discard my recently-purchased large skinny latte. Why?

'Passengers are no longer permitted to board with hot drinks. This is for heath and safety reasons,' intoned the check in staff at the departure gate. 

Since when has a cup of tea been a risk to human health! Isn't that the Brits all purpose cure for everything from death of a loved one to a bad day at work?!

Got me thinking though...if hot drinks are a health and safety risk, then its hardly surprising I've had so much trouble with hot dates! 

Let's hope LP is on his best behaviour! Maybe I should ask him to complete a risk assessment before we go any further!  Or maybe not...it''s been a long 18 'sleeps' since we last met...will the magic still be there.....

Classy!

Another great date with LP. Our Paris rendezvous may not have been conventionally romantic - no moonlit trips on the Seine or photos by the Eiffel Tower - but it was certainly memorable for the right reason - laughter... lots...

Having decided to try out a local bistro recommended by our hotel, rather than heading into the city, we were surprised to find it closed along with pretty much everything else in the village. The only place doing a roaring trade was an Irish bar.

Having decided we  fancied steak et pomme frites we set out on a determined mission to find some.There had to be somewhere; it was Saturday night. Finally, two open restaurants. Warning bells should have rung on viewing the flashing red neon sign at the door of the first but, hungry, we ventured inside. No tables...just an open space with a small ante-room, off the main reception area, housing two reclining leather massage chairs and a table displaying foot high letters, stating what was not immediately obvious - 'BAR'.

Before we had a chance to retreat we were accosted by a young French girl in skintight grubby jeans. 'Come upstairs,' she mumbled.

By this point, we both thought we had happened on the local brothel rather than bistro. This looked like the sort of establishment that charged by the hour!

'After you,' said LP. In other circumstances I might have considered that gentlemanly; at that moment I wanted to kill him. As we tentatively followed the girl upstairs clasping a wonky hand rail, about to part company with the wall, I couldn't believe my eyes when we were shown into a room complete with twirling mirrored disco ball, neon flashing lights and leather swivel seats. Amazingly it even had 4 diners.

Most bizarre of all was being shown to a table behind a set of vertical Venetian blinds that divided the room (see photo).  All we wanted was steak and chips in vaguely convivial surroundings! Having been handed food splattered menus with burgers starting at €25, we knew it was time to leave. Classy...not!

'Some other time,' LP shrugged as we made good our escape and headed for the only other place open - a  Chinese.

Not exactly the simple Parisienne cuisine we had planned. Things were not about to improve...after ordering a bottle of house red, that had clearly spent a long time in a very cold fridge, the owner came to take our order.

After stating that two of the three things we had chosen were off the menu, he stood tutting and tapping his notebook menacingly against his hand until I hurriedly chose something else. He spent the remainder of the evening glaring at us.

It felt like we'd stumbled upon a Triad cover for money laundering....where diners were an unwelcome intrusion into their mrore lucrative activities.

The evening was topped off by a text from Classified, saying he'd been reading my blog and wished me well with LP, which was really sweet but did slightly add to the surreal nature of an already random evening!

All too soon our time was up and I was back on Eurostar. Was the 14 hour return trip, 11 trains, 3 buses, a Triad, a restaurant fashioned on a bordello, a perfectly chilled bottle of, ahem, red and finally a car, worth it....just for 24 hours with LP?

You know what....I rather think it  must have been...or else why would I be doing it all again later this week!

A plane, 6 trains, and not an automobile in sight...yet!

7 hours, 6 trains, 2 buses, and a bit of Shanks' pony for me; 1 aeroplane for him...Was it worth it? Or was this to be a disaster to match my last Parisian date?

I'm on the train! I'll tell you later..!

Cereal Dating!

I shall soon be on my way to a romantic rendezvous avec LP. To say I'm as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve is an understatement...he is too.

He's planning champagne on ice; I'm bringing a stash of his favourite Malteaster bunnies! Puts a whole new slant on 'rabbits' in the bedroom!

Anyway, our liaison will be fleeting, sadly, but further adventures planned. Clearly the Top Gun commentary earlier in the week amused readers, as blog viewings beat all previous records.

It got me thinking about why it is that certain posts are more hit upon than others; a look around blogspot told me the words most used by searchers finding my blog.

Amusingly, 6 out of the top 10 words searched involved Kellogg's (remember the 'Snap, crackle and pop' post?). How unfortunate for all those people, innocently sourcing the best price for cornflakes, who end up reading Daisy's dating diaries! Brings a whole new meaning to serial, or should that be cereal, dating!

According to my iPhone it appears to be snowing in Paris. What is it about LP and snow....lets hope we both make it! Later...

Mile High Club!

What can I say...? Not only am I dating a lovely pilot, I also seem to be provoking debate from the entire cast of Top Gun. A result...as it was some of my favourite teenage viewing.

Does being elevated to such heights mean fast track membership to the Mile High Club?! Now there's a thought....

Just to reassure all concerned - everyone, who needs to know that I blog, knows (and reads); nothing I have written breaches any professional rules and, once again, thank you all for taking the time to comment.

Now...back to the Mile High Club...mmmm!

Friends with Benefits!

Well here's an unexpected benefit of Internet dating, at least for the criminal fraternity!

Over the last few months I have attended police stations, as duty solicitor, at the request of various clients arrested for drug dealing. Most were away from their home area and when asked why they were so far from home with Class 'A' drugs stuffed down their socks, if it wasn't for the sole purpose of dealing, the stock answer seems to be 'I was meeting this girl I met on an Internet dating site and the 'gear' is my own. No intention of supplying it.'

So when asked where the £1000+ stuffed in their pocket had come from as the police, perhaps resonably, thought it was the profit from drug deals, the conversation went something like this with one particular client.
'It's my savings.'

'But you're on benefits, ' I exclaimed, 'how can you save £1000 from an income of £140 a fortnight?'

'I'm good with money.'

Clearly! Think I need advice from his financial advisor!

Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'friends with benefits'!