Hopefully My Luck Will Hold

It has been a good day. A very good day. I am not a failure, not quite the opposite, I'm not a success, I'm merely really fucking lucky.

This 'luck' stems back to a book I have by Pat Montandon called 'How To Be A Party Girl'. I have never read the book cover to cover, I've skimmed it. Kinda.

One thing that has stuck with me, aside from wandering around the house naked before going to a major event because bra strap marks are unflattering for anyone, is that you should be nice to everyone because you never know when that ugly guy who flirts with you might have a hot banker friend of your dreams he just happens to introduce you to and then you get married...just, to paraphrase.

She was right in a very 1960's way, I expanded her philosophy past the limited scope of husband hunting and into everyday life. We postmodern women must do these things, especially when living in a country where one's accent makes everyone predisposed towards hostility.

Just sayin'.

Today was a case in point.

I have made random friends in many different ways over the past couple of years here in London, one friend (whom I met on the tube), kindly introduced me to someone who has today become an important part of my life. Professionally of course, both of these men are old enough to be my father.

After months of chasing down the Scottish Hart I've finally managed to corner him and have a face to face meeting RE: Raeburn.

Turns out he owns four.

Fuck. That's cool.

He also owns two sources on Raeburn that are very hard to find, to which I am now welcome to use.

My god, the generosity and fortuitous tube ride that lead me here!

Over tea I had a discussion that has lead me down the rabbit hole and closer to my more fantastic professional dreams, of being published, rubbing the right elbows (or shoulders if you fancy), and generally getting a little bit closer to a career in the art world rather than merely being a random wannabe outsider.

Given that after the interviews (which were merely to confirm availability according to Cocker Spaniel), The Voice decided to turn down her internship in favour of teaching English in France next year, I have to say that while she was given the internship in the department I'd wanted, this is better. I might have just managed to make up for some lost ground.

Fuck you The Voice, I'm getting from A to B via X, and the road is a hell of a lot more interesting.

And yea, there's like, totally other things I can do.

While this may seem cocky, some people might just call it fate.