![]() ![]() I’m not too fussed about table manners but we shared food without fighting. This works well, say, if I’m doing an author event or am at a party full of mutes, but less so at funerals or in tranquil bookshops. I have a terrible habit of trying to fill even the tiniest conversational vacuum with jokes. Some very lovely comfortable silences, actually. How much time might I have to write dazzling novels or coruscating features if I didn’t spend half my life unzipping my backpack to check I had my spare phone battery or arriving twenty minutes early for absolutely everything ever and having to walk round the block ten times? Any awkward moments? ![]() ![]() I admire those ebullient titans who swagger from place to place running on sheer confidence with a braggadocio chaser. Being alive and mildly anxious at all times is absolutely exhausting. Not really, just an early panic that I’d turned up at the wrong restaurant (I hadn’t). Regular people like you or me wouldn’t talk about cheese on a date, unless we still had the remnants of the Cheestrings we grabbed as we left the house between our teeth, down our top, or floating in our long island iced tea. ![]() The surrealness of what we were doing – when do you think this kicks in for the daters, generally? During the photoshoot? As the date walks toward them and they try not to gulp too obviously in case it looks like they’re deepthroating a golf ball? Or on the Saturday morning, when they see the magazine has picked a photo of them that makes them look like Mark Goodier’s hype-man at a Radio 1 Roadshow in Kettering in 1991?Ĭheese – I’m calling it, they’re POSH. Theatre ✅ – When people talk about theatre I bet they’re not talking about how Alexandra Burke smashed it in Sister Act at the High Wycombe Swan, but believe me they should be. All sorts: our jobs, dating, family, theatre, the surrealness of what we were doing.Īll sorts ✅ – Were they actually sitting next to each other as they typed these answers out? What did you talk about?Īll sorts of things, from theatre to therapy, education to cheese. Warm, friendly, great smile.Ī double-smiley and a double-friendly? Why they’re so in sync! This is meant to be! And definitely nothing to do with colluding over your answers during the last half-hour of the meal, oh noooooo. But what about the Snap? I guess the Pop comes later if you’re lucky. Good food, good chat, the crackle of attraction. She’s a creative looking for inspiration, ladies and gentlemen. Absolute worst case would make my Edinburgh Fringe show for next year. Good food, easy conversation, a belly laugh if possible. Yay! Laura on Tom | Tom on Laura What were you hoping for? Read what happened on the date in full on the Guardian website and then catch the first train back – if it’s not cancelled – and read what I have to say. But here they are from top to toe: Composite: Jim Wileman/The Guardian The image the Guardian have chosen to use for Tom in the magazine is just… I don’t know why they’ve done that, so I will not be reusing it here. Nothing wrong with saying ‘unemployed’ though – hopefully Trussolini herself will be exactly that before the end of this column! And that is the last bit of politics you will hear in this review! Hurrah!) I hope Tom’s transitional job status is for a good reason and not a ‘cost of living crisis’ reason. (Either that or he’s in line for a promotion he doesn’t want to talk about? I don’t know. We leave the comforting, cosseted dating bourgeoisie of London this week and instead head to Plymouth, where vowels stretch out for days like sandy beaches, and, hopefully, a smaller dating pool means people are a little less… shall we say picky?īraving 48-hour infamy in the Blind Date pages this week are Laura, 38, and a playwright, and Tom, who is 47 and is described by the Guardian as ‘job in transition’, which I think is a new way of saying ‘taking some time out’, which was a new way of saying ‘between jobs’, which was a new way of saying ‘I’m spending my redundancy on Massimo Dutti loafers, veneers, and negroni sbagliatos’. ![]()
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