“The highlight of my trip to Laaahndaaan was meeting Celeste. She is great. I thinks he is the fittest girl I have ever seen – wow. I think there should be a town in Wales re-named to ‘Celeste’ in some megre attempt to pay tribute to the wonderfulness that is Celeste!”- Celeste, last Thursday, My blog notepad
I agreed to met Celeste for some Pizza and soft drinks, I was getting more and more comfortable with the underground, so I braved something that shouldn’t be attempted by anybody, especially a country bumpkin such as myself: rush hour. I was only going a few stops and managed – somehow – to get a seat. I was early, as I managed to find the restaurant so easily. Celeste was right, it really was next to the station.
I stood outside which seemingly pissed off a number of Londoners and a guy tried to hand me a free paper, three times. I politely refused thrice, and waited.
Whilst waiting I saw a petite blonde that could’ve been her – the half light made it difficult to see. Instead of walking over and making a tit of myself if it wasn’t her, I’d send a fairly safe text to her, to see if it was her. Lo and behold she took her phone out of her bag and read a text! I walked over to say hi when I realised….it wasn’t her.
The official Celseste arrived about a minute later. She’s just as bubbily and happy as she appears in recent blogs. We got a seat upstairs and waited to be served.
We got served by this Aussie waiteress. Now, I’m perculiar with my soft drink in that I can’t drink fruit juices – they’re too sweet. So I ask for a orange J20, watered down with soda water. Now, for a bright button such as Celeste it’s fairly easy to comprehend what I want. Not so our Shiela. She made a few jokes about it which I suppose were designed to come accross as welcoming but instead came accross as offensive. It affected her tip.
The company was fantastic though, I’ve never been to Pizza Express, and eating pizza with a knife and fork is very alien to this northerner. However, we talked about all sorts: blogging, London, rugby and boobs. I think I ermbarrassed myself by saying rather loudly “LOOK AT MY BLACK NIPPLE HAIR! DOES THAT MAKE YOU HORNY BABY?!?!”. Luckily, Celsete didn’t get up and leave me to foot the bill, she found it amusing, which is good.
Celsete, the busy HR dynamo she was, had to run, so we took a picture. We were at Liverpool Street Station, and didn’t fancy stopping some commuters to take a picture of us, so a Myspace angle jobby was necessary.
We tried again.
I looked like a pervert in one, and fat in the other. Boo myspace angles, boo them!
Right, Han has been annoying me for the last couple of days, saying “when you’re going to talk about me?” She hasn’t read or seen this entry yet, so I can imagine she won’t be best pleased with it. Next two days will be Han, with side note on London. Trust me, the next two days will explain why London was such a good holiday. You – honest to god – don’t want to miss it!