So here we are

So here we are, sitting in a People-Like-Us café in Seven Dials. This so easily could have been our world. I’m not quite sure why it isn’t. I’m really happy that it isn’t, but still I’m not quite sure why it isn’t.

Four women, they all look like Gill or maybe Vicky – not as good-looking obviously – sit around having coffee. One is tapping at a laptop. A bloke walks in with a young child. He’s wearing slovenly jeans with stitching that’s probably most posh and a thick knit zip up cardigan. The jeans cost more than my entire get up, but that’s always the way.

I feel a mixture of deep frustration and sweet contentment. It’s a curious mix, each keeps the other in check. I’m comfortable in the café – the coffee is good, the people are nice to look at, one of the women – the one sitting nearest me – is kinda sexy. There’s a tantalising glimpse, a slither of skin showing between her slovenly jeans and thick knit zip up cardigan and I have a fleeting fantasy – also a slither – about her. But the slovenly jeans and thick knit zip up cardigan get in the way, and my fantasy gives way to a thought-stream about this People-Like-Us uniform.

The comfort of the café and the comfort of my situation here never quite gets carried away with itself because every time it does… the anger about college rises to the surface. It’s a bore. I’ve been trying to invoke the Roy Keane/Thierry Henry framework – it’s happened, that’s the situation, get over it – but it’s hard. I’d leave in a jiff – or at least I think I would. I said last night that the glow I got from Joe doing well far outweighed the anger I feel about being dumped on and it’s largely true. Largely.

I’m also angry about what Gill told me about her evening last night. What sort of strange people are these? How can they disassociate themselves from life so entirely? And Ellie? It’s so hard to remember that she’s still so young. We demand so much from her yet she’s so young, so… unbaked.