LORD CHATTERLY’S LOVER

18 Oct

I think I am Lord Chatterly’s lover, minus the rampant rogering.

I’m talking about the sophisticated Aussie.

I saw him last night for the first time in a couple of weeks. He took me to a restaurant, which has just been voted in the Top 3 in London.

Seeing how my cold had taken me up in the snottiest of grips, he prescribed a red wine that came from a vineyard close to his hometown in Canberra. (Fortunately, I felt too rough to mourn the lack of Pinot Grigio tonight.)

He told me a bit about the history of the wine and when it turned up at the table – thank faaaack – the waitress offered it to him to try first.

Needless to say, he took the glass by the bottom of its stem, swirled the contents and dipped his nose in for a sniff before drinking.

I felt the need to turn away in case he spat it on the floor. But he swallowed.

Once the waitress was off, we cheersed (gingerly, on my part) and took a big slurp. Well, I took a big slurp. He placed his glass back down on the table because it needed more time to breathe.

Christ.

I wanted to tell him it was bad luck to do a toast and then place your glass down without taking a sip. I also think it’s bad manners in some cases. But that wine needed to breathe.

What does he see in me? I am his bit of rough.

Or maybe he thinks of me as a rough diamond whose edges he can file down via a rigorous regime of fine dining and talk of wine, cooking (butternut squash and lentils factor high in his daily diet) and being in the open air on a bike.

I showed him a picture of the bikes my cous and I hired in Lanzarotte and he smiled encouragingly at me.

I really wanted to tell him that after our first cycling escapade, my cousin – whose seat was raised uncomfortably much higher than mine – told me her “vagina was shot”. But I stopped myself.

Maybe I should find someone I can laugh about vaginas with.

After our meal, SA hailed me a cab, walked me across the road, gave me a kiss and told me to get better. Then he texted while I was still in the cab, telling me he’d had a lovely night.

What to do next…