An Abundance of Creepers

So my dear faithful readers, remember last time when I told you about the creepy, overzealous (if not slightly good looking) Italian man in the park? Well, I believe I may have jinxed myself.



This week, I have been in the presence of no less than three slightly creepy men (and that's not counting a couple of other less eventful encounters).



The first of these chance meetings occured at the University Union pub where I had just finished lunch and was settling in to read my book (The Bolyn inheritance which I found at a charity shop for a pound) with a surprisingly good late.



When we first arrived for Lunch, the pub was so crowded that my friends and I had to scavage for the first booth we could find. By the time I began reading my book, late in hand, my friends had gone to their afternoon classes and almost everyone else in the pub had seen fit to do the same. The only patrons now were myself and a small group of students sitting in the booth to the front of mine.



It was at this time that another patron entered the pub, an elderly man in a tweed jacket and rather nice hat. He walked through the door, passed at least five or six empty tables and one empty booth, stopped at my booth and without looking up, without speaking, without acknowledging the fact that I was there, set his things down in the booth I was occupying, sat down and proceeded to write.



Now, perhaps it's simply an American thing, perhaps I'm just an overly anal person who does not like to have her space invaded, but, to me, something about this seemed rather off. I stared at him for a couple of seconds, I cleared my throat just in case he was a bit blind and truly hadn't noticed that the person reading at the same table he had chosen to occupy.

He glanced up at me for half of a milisecond and continued writing. I stayed for a minute or two and continued to read. Afterall, why should I be pushed out of my rightful seat by an elderly man with a fixation on booths and no concept of personal space?

However, after a minute or two, the creepiness of the situation made me feel too uncomfortable, so I gulped down my latte and headed over to Waterstones across the street to continue my reading.

You may say, 'well, one incident with an elderly man in a booth doesn't exactly count as a curse now does it?', and I would tell you to mind your manners and wait until I've finished.

Because, while one elderly gentleman may not equal "creepers out the wazoo", another at the pub the same evening would begin to make anyone a little suspicious.

Later that night, while Alysha, Mary and I were sitting at a pub called 'The Famous Cock' (more juvinile members of my reading audience are given full permision to giggle uncontrolably), eating our diner and minding our own business, another not elderly gentleman walked up to our table.

'Is the food here good?' he asked us. Because this is not SUCH an unussual question, we all replied with the affermative.

'Oh, that's good to hear' he says. We think that he will leave it at that, walk up to the bar and order. However he just stands there slightly awkwardly, staring at us.

'Not as good as my mum's though probably,' he says finally.

Not knowing what to say we kind of look at eachother questioningly. The man does not leave. Finally Mary says:

'Yeah, well nothings ever as good as mom's' we all laugh slightly uncomfortably. The guy chuckles still swaying awkwardly from one foot to the other.

'Except for my food,' he says desperately 'I'm a good cook'.

'Oh' we all say. There is the longest silence yet.

Finally he says: 'Well, I guess I'd better go order'

'yeah,' we all agree. Finally, he goes to the bar and we all breath collective sighs of releif.

Even though he did not speak to us the rest of the evening, he choose the small table right across from ours and stared at us until we left.

No less than two days after that incident, I went to a club which just happened to be full of creepy men. This incident has caused me to realize that I am far too trusting and should not dance with just anyone; even if I am at a club.

Alysha said that night: 'Geez Rachel, what is it with you and creepers?'

Perhaps that is the question which I will send out into the void today.

Despite the creepiness of certain creepers however, I am glad to report that London has not only been a place of awkward romantic encounters. I have seen much to make the inner nerd inside me squee uncontrolably.

For example, I have been to the globe twice. The Theater itself is amazing and the ammount of history recounted in the exhibition is something to behold. I got to hear recordings of famous shakespear speeches performed by Kenneth Branough (who holds the Shakespear loving portion of my heart in his hands) as well as Peter O'tool and Laurence Oliver (I've never been a fan of his actually. He was always a bit too stagey for me).

I've come to realize that the Globe to Shakespear actors and fans is what Lothlorian was to the Elves in Lord of the Rings. I kept humming bits of the lothlorian song from the lotr musical durring the tour and was being given strange looks by many of the other sight seers.

So, you see, despite what it may appear London is not only a land of creepy men and a non-existant grid system, but also of Shakespear, history and culture. Hopefully this post has helped me to break the jinx of the creepers and on my way to pick up my laundry I shall meet a nice, good looking, non creepy and (preferably) rich man who will ask me out for coffee. Keep your fingers crossed!