Dateathon starvashathon... But I'll always have The Lavender

I used to be such an angry little ball of fire. There was nothing I liked more than a bit of self-riteous inner rage. Don't get me wrong, I was never the kind of person who would lash out, and I'd be just as likely to cry tears of pent-up frustration than shout at anyone else but I'd be lying if I didnt admit that there was a little, no, large part of me that actually quite enjoyed the ride.

I'd like to think that this has changed. That with maturity (don't snigger) has come a mellowness that definitely was not there before. It started when I left Dubai - not only was I travelling around some of the most beautiful countries in the world but I was literally living an almost stress free existence.

There were no taxi drivers refusing to listen to my directions and haring off to the wrong end of the city, no coffee baristas calling me mamsir or sirmam or (the penultimate sin) just sir (I am CLEARLY a girl), no twats telling me that they didnt understand my English because of the colour of my skin. Yes, I certainly became a lot calmer.

But once in a while, I feel the old self-riteous boiling of blood coming back and these days you can almost bet your bottom dollar that it is going to be boy-related.

At 24, there is only a limited amount of patience I can have with a right old numpty, which is quite a bit of a pain in the ass as someone up there has decided to allocate me a fair share of them over the last few months.

There's no conversation, no spark, no enthusiasm. I've never understood why boys go through the rigmarole and potential embarrassment of chatting a girl up if they are not going to at least pretend to be a normal human being with good conversation, emotions and a bit, even a bit of joy in their life. Patrick the moaner, Matt the twat, Tom the waster, Sean the genie (poof he's disappeared - magic). It's a roll call of wasted evenings and often bad conversation.

That said, all these deflated dates have given me the perfect chance to spy out some new eating and drinking locations, the pick of which has to be The Lavender on Lavender Hill. Quaint, small and serving stellar cuisine, this is one of the stars of Clapham Junction's dining scene and relatively off the radar. Perfect.

And so, here beginneth a period of self-imposed singledom or, as I've named it my dateathon starvashathon, hopefully leaving more time for blogging and training for that pesky little half marathon I've signed up for in September. I will be in imminent need of distraction (the one thing dating is apparently is time consuming) so feel free to send over any recipes you've spied. I'll be glad to try them out.

Off to The Ship in Wandsworth tonight - soon to be blogged, keep your eyes peeled!

The Lavender
171 Lavender Hill, London, SW11 5TE
Tel: 020 7978 5242