Inner Cynic: 1 Romantic: 0

Sad to say that I was right to maintain my cynicism concerning the idea that a buff, young, body-building Ukrainian would actually commit himself to living with an ancient, cantankerous queen of questionable fitness like me! As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the five month experience, I maintained a modicum of awareness throughout, to enjoy it like a sort of active novella or computer-generated alternative reality game.  Even after I contacted my supposed suitor three days before Arrival Day (oooh!) to make sure he was actually going to be there before I splashed cash on trains and accommodation, he left it until Arrival Day (oooh!) -1 to concoct a tale of incapacitation as the result of a serious road accident. I wrote back that I was of course horrified, but I had to go as I had just noticed a 500lb pig flying around my garden and I wanted to get a picture of it. No further contact after daily missives and conversations without fail for the last three months. You gotta admire that kind of dedication to a craft!

I was pleased to have declined his request for 1,000 Euros against being questioned at immigration re how he meant to sustain himself whilst visiting this fair isle. I know that he could be questioned in this way, but I told him I was unwilling to part with so much money to someone I had never even actually met. I offered to reimburse anyone from whom he might borrow the sum after he had arrived. I think that was when the game was up. Despite him saying his grandparents were willing to loan him half of it. I confess, to my shame that I had already sent him £120 after he'd asked me to pay for "his visa". It was more than he'd asked for (lol soppy twit) and probably why he got greedy.

He was good. Or possibly THEY were good. I can imagine quite a cottage industry of people providing the photographs, the correspondence, the telephone calls. Who knows how many 'Marks' are being 'played' at any one time?... Or maybe it was just one person... As much as I despise him/them, there's a begrudged grain of admiration at the artistry of the operation. Had I been entirely green I might have allowed myself to have been fleeced completely,  but I'm not, and I didn't!

There seemed no reason to cancel the London trip so I went and I had an absolute ball! I hooked up with friends in South East London after a nostalgic stroll round once familiar haunts that had finally seen the benefits of Labour's regeneration programmes. I met up with someone who'd been part of the youth theatre project I ran as my first job and then with a host of fuzzily familiar faces in the pub where I once ran a theatre. The food there was phenomenal! The 'music'; diabolical. A friend commented wryly that there seemed to be a direct correlation between the ability of the musician and the volume at which they perform. Its great to be friendly with ex-lovers, I stayed with one and his not so "new" partner after 15? years, and spent time with a couple of others including a couple I'd introduced to each other and are coming up to their 20th anniversary: Bridesmaid, even Cupid sometimes, but still waiting for my turn to do the Aisle Smile and Shuffle.

The whole trip was a whirl of musems and shopping and taxis and eating out and nostalgia and drinking half as much as all my friends and singing along to 'disco' tracks till 2am so that I was hoarse for three days afterwards (a bit sexy-sounding actually!) and it was just what I needed in the circumstances. I came back unashamedly spreading my trophies over both the seats for which I'd paid in the train and began to wonder when I'd ever be able to wear almost any of the clothes I had bought in Newcastle and not cause "comment in the High Street" [Bloolips, 'Living Leg Ends']... 

...It would be disingenuous to the point of an outright lie to pretend that I am not "emotionally compromised" [Star Trek] by being duped by The Fabled Ukrainian Inc, but the feeling has taken a week to surface and is more "Bleh!" than "Oh god I want to end it all!!" Thank goodness and bitter experience I never invested more than a lot of mushy emails and £120 (dammit!).

Romance is nice but don't fire your Inner Cynic till you've got your hands on some rocks of one kind or another, and even then: keep him on retainer.