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MR FRANKLY

Thursday 13 December 2007

Mr Frankly and I met in a bar in Chelsea. Mr Frankly is awfully awfully posh. To be honest, I was hammered and I could vaguely remember that he was tall and blonde. So when he sent me a text the next day saying that I was a delight and he'd love to meet up with me before he heads off to Africa for 3 weeks, I felt a bit guilty and pretended I knew exactly who he was. He seemed funny from his texts and we arranged to meet up after work the following Wednesday, provided that I didn't wear denim of any description. Curious.

The meet point was outside the Ritz and there a I stood for a few minutes until this blonde, foppish man bounded up to me. "Dahling hello! *cheek kisses* utter pleasure to see you again." I didn't remember him being so very posh. "Right, yes, well, I wasn't really too sure where to take you for a few drinks so if it's alright with you, I thought we'd go to my club, hence the reason I said no denim, the club has a dress code." Yes of course that's fine I say. I'm still a bit dazed by this whirlwind of public shool boy poshness.

Those who know me know I have a soft spot for posh boys but this was my first time meeting one - in real life. He's very good looking, about 6ft, very blue eyes and a mop of blonde hair swept back.

We arrive at Mr Frankly's club it turns out to be a private members club and the door staff take my coat and my bag. I guess I must've been rubbish at concealing my worry at being parted with my bag because Mr Frankly assures me personal items like that go into the safe.

We were led into the Drawing Room (false advertising, there were no crayons or paper in sight) and I assume I must be dreaming as it's like being on the set for an adaptation of a Jane Austin novel. There are big high backed chairs and paintings everywhere, the ceiling is ridiculously high and there are about 12 chandeliers in the room. I suddenly feel very very out of place. There are a handful of other posh people sitting in grouped chairs around the room. They're going to know I'm not posh I think. I will be pelted with vegetables by their help. Eep.

Mr Frankly leads me to the window where there are two big chairs and a coffee table. We sit down and a waiter comes over immediately with a silver bowl of Japanese rice crackers and asks what we would like to drink. Mr Frankly leans over to me and says "Dahling, the champagne cocktails here are superb, shall I order us some?" I nod my head and smile in a demure way and sit down with my back straight. Oh yes, I am sooo blending in. My Next shirt and River Island pencil skirt could surely pass as 'designer' and will fool them all into thinking I actually shop at Versace and Prada.

The cocktails arrive and Mr Frankly and I chat away. He slowly reminds me of someone and it isn't until he says 'Gosh, I am awfully sorry about my cough. You see my sister, she is at university and she is staying at mine for a few nights until she moves in with her student friends and one of them came over last night and they decided to smoke some.." at this point he edges closer toward me, places his hand on my knee and whispers "marijuana" I try desperatley not to dissolve into a fit of giggles and having sunk 2 champagne cocktails it's a job an a half. "Anyway, I decided to try some and now I have the ruddy cough" He's only Tim nice but dim!

After two more cocktails we decide to get food. "The pool bar do fantastic gastropub food" I am told. So we go downstairs to the pool and sit at the bar. For the rest of the evening I laugh to myself at how if anything were to develop between us, it would be very interesting introducing him to my friends.

Pip pip! Capital! Capital!

Posted by Celeste at December 13, 2007 11:26 AM | TrackBack

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