Crossing The Line

So. Let me ask you all a question. How was your Monday? Fabulous? Let me tell you about mine. Overall I was pretty happy with how my day unfolded. Work was both productive and tiring. A satisfying combination. I got to meet new colleagues and had interesting conversations to boot.  I managed to sneak in some catch up’s with work friends that resulted in plenty of laughter. The day was running so smoothly I was even able to to leave the office on time. Bonus. As a result of this I managed to arrive at the gym earlier than usual meaning I could hit it hard.  As I was leaving the gym I noticed a few eyes on me which always puts a little spring in my step. I cycled home in the glorious sunshine.  I prepared dinner as I listened to some music and jumped into the shower to wash away the gym sweat and day. I was feeling pretty content it was a good day.  Smiling to myself I turned to face the mirror. Enter the biggest face crack of the century. There, to the left of my front teet

Recently after a few drinks as you do on a typical Saturday night I made a cliche mistake. I started to peruse the various dating applications. As you do. I struck up a conversation while only slight inebriated with a nice chap. Okay so It was not a slight inebriation and more of an obliteration. We decided to move the conversation over to WhatsApp as is customary these days when you make the decision that the person you are talking to is not a complete weirdo. One you might one day come home from work to find them going through your bins, while humming the theme tune to psycho. You have eliminated that possibility through secretive and cleaver banter such as ' are you a weirdo?'. Anyways. He passed this test so we exchanged numbers. I saved his number under his name we shall call him 'Bob'  and added an emoji to help the name stand out.  This is something I do with anyone's number I gain from dating. I add an emoji. They have absolutely no thought pu

 I have slowly come to the realisation that over the last few months, I like others, have become terribly addicted to using my mobile phone.  Numerous studies have been completed proving that receiving a notification on your phone release dopamine in our bodies. How utterly astounding is this? I wont lie. I am a high user of my device. I enjoy, scrolling through Instagram - bombarding others with funny memes. Sending lengthy voice messages on Whatsapp describing my day to my bestie and completely utterly useless quizzes on Buzzfeed.  Not mentioning my constant perusing of Grindr and Tinder. Enough said.  In a earth shattering decision I turned my phone off for a day.  Ground breaking eh. I needed to test myself and see how I coped without a mobile device to obsess over. I turned the device off on a Sunday evening and it was not powered back on until after 9am on the Tuesday of that week.  That way I could get the full experience.  Here was the result.  5:30am I begrudgin

I willingly gave up coffee on a schedule during the month of January. I say schedule because, it certainly was.  I decidedly choose not to drink coffee, Monday to Friday, the time I usually relied on it most. This was again a game of testing what I was made off. The background. I have been in a serious relationship with coffee from the age of 13. While everyone else was sipping there sugar filled milky tea I was using a french press to get my fix.  It was love at first taste, granted first taste was an instance Maxwell House red label, but every addict has to start somewhere right?! I enjoy the taste, the bitter after bite. I adore the smell, even the dirty coffee stank that lingers in the teacher’s staff room at every single school. Most of all, I enjoy the social aspect of it all. Nothing better then catching up over a coffee. Or even just going to a coffee shop to get some work done. Or an afternoon of cutting it up like cocaine and snorting it up both nostrils while watchi

From the title you may have guest it. I took part in my own little version of Dry January.  I can hear you now. Oh how original Ray. Its oddly predictable isn't it. A dry January, or as I refer to it a dryish January.  Alarmingly the name dryish comes from the fact I had little confidence I would be able to achieve it and so didn’t want to set anyones expectations to something I wouldn’t be able to meet. Standard practice by yours truly, I detest failing. First of all, here are the facts. This was my first time trying this. I have no recollection of ever attempting it before or in fact being dry for a month since meeting the legal drinking age requirements.  I decided on trying it randomly with not much premeditated thought. From the haze of a hang over on new years day. It all looked pretty achievable.  The first week of January is a easy one. No one seems interested in doing much, everyone is facing the realities of a new year and is on a low after the holiday peri

So here is a shocker. I enjoy the gym. I really do. As a stress head I find that it helps relax me. As a vain mother fecker it soothes my ego to see some progress on this hot body.  All of this is a great bonus, however, my favourite thing to do at the gym is people watch. Not that way you perv. I am not talking about salivating over all the muscle bodies. Well not much anyway. I am more interested in the slightly off beat chaps that you encounter. These folk can offer some serious comic value as long as its not at your own expense. The other evening, during my stretches I noticed a girl next to me of a similar age wearing cow girl boots. I presumed she was on a quick demo tour of some sort checking out what the gym had to offer, but then I noticed the weights in her hands. Nope, girl just likes to work out in some western Daisy Dukes.  While we are on the topic of clothing - why do some gents wear jeans to the gym? recently there was even a chap wearing green cords. Not everyon

What is the deal with everyones reaction to the sudden appearance of some sporadic snow? The entire population of London could talk of nothing else for an entire week with pre game talk beginning at the end of the previous week. I am  halfway through my 6th year living in this urban metropolis, It has snowed heavily once. To be fair, the one time it did in 2012, It snowed really bad and it did cause mayhem as the cities prep for such an event at the time was non existent. I know this all to well as I was trapped by Piccadilly circus for 2 hours in the middle of the night getting sober by the minute and getting wetter by the second. Side note, I was wearing a cardigan as a coat, I assure you it was a chunky knit and was the height of fashion at least to me at the time. Bad choice.  Further side note, I was so new to London I went out to a club on Piccadilly circus. Those were the days.  The weather stations and the BBC had the entire population of the United kingdom believi