So much has happened in the last few hours that it’s like a different person wrote the stuff I wrote this morning. I needed this so much. So, I go down to reception and that guy from the travel agency (the hot one) was sitting there on his laptop and there’s no one else around. So I took the plunge and decided to speak to him. I made a joke, like, ‘Can you believe a girl like me has been ditched for the Pope!’ He looked up a bit alarmed so I lied because I didn’t want to come across as a loser. I said my friend had family visiting so I was at a loose end and wanted to go on his tour: can you believe it, at this point I am fully willing to pay for this guy’s time just to have someone to talk to. So fucking pathetic. So, at first he says tours are for groups, but I do a bit of sad eyes and he says, OK then, lemme take down your details. An exception because he thinks I’m a nice girl. And I notice he saves my number straight to his phone.

We leave the hotel and I could tell he was starting to relax and in a few minutes we were chatting like old friends, you know that special feeling – I felt properly comfortable around him, like I’d known him for ages. We get on the metro and we’re sitting together, our knees are touching and stuff. Anyway I end up spilling the beans about Beadle and her funny behaviour. That she’s always wanting to walk around twelve hours a day and never eats anything. I said I suspect she’s surviving on condensed milk miniatures, because the other day I dropped a hairpin in the bathroom bin and found a bunch of empties at the bottom when I went to look for it. That made him laugh. He has a great laugh. It made me feel like I’ve been blowing it all out of proportion. It finally felt like being on holiday.

And anyway the long and the short of it is he’s taking me for dinner tonight. Eat your heart out, Mike. Where is Beadle? Fuck me if I know. Fuck me if I care!

Xoxo Ally

30/06/2006

Diary dearest,