"It's a numbers game," Peter explained on Thursday evening when I observed that I'd spent more time in Battersea than they had at Bermondsey (he'd used this explanation before, albeit in a rather different context).

Pacific Specifics in Borough Market

Then as if by magic, as I was getting ready to go to my now favourite urbanbliss salon on Tower Bridge Road for a Saturday morning treat, Peter called with the news that they were all getting on a bus to come over for lunch in My Neighbourhood.

I met Peter, Yuki, Dean and Jean in front of the Market Porter at Borough Market, where the scene was buzzing with gastronomic delights and smells to tease the appetite.

After a lunch of venison sausages (Dean and I opted for the healthier grilled vegetable wraps), fruit smoothies and chips, we made our way back to my place to watch the FA Cup Final.

And it's no secret, Peter and Dean were enjoying the fascinated glances, being accompanied by a pride of 'Oriental Charlie's Angels' as we wandered past Guy's Hospital and down Bermondsey Street (Picture Gallery: Pacific Specifics)...

Yuki, Peter, Dean and Jean

"She hasn't renovated this part yet," Dean explained to Jean as we made our way up the first 17 steps leading up to my front door.

Indeed I've given up offering any kind of explanation for the ground floor entrance; as I see it, it's a 'security feature' - a term we IT professionals often use for an irritating bug that doubles as a security feature in the way that it puts people off.

Then, settling in with some drinks on the sofa, Peter, Dean and Jean sat down to watch the FA Cup Final whilst Yuki and I went up to the loft for a girly chat...and to embark on yet another journey of giddy laughter.

Occasionally during these private discussions, Peter suddenly steps in and interjects with what seems to be his standard response to our secret chats.

"He's not good enough for you!" he declares without being given any context, nevertheless confident that he is equipped with the exclusive sense of intuition normally reserved for the complementary gender.

Me, Peter, Dean and Jean And so as the afternoon gave way to evening, we all found ourselves ascending to the loft, with the girls sitting curiously on the stairs whilst Peter's and Dean's feet dangled over the edge of the mezzanine... drinking and laughing more like a bunch of teenagers than a group of professional thirty-somethings. 

An old Chinese saying comes to mind: "when the shoe fits, the foot is forgotten," and this past Saturday was very much an affirmation that when friends fit, time is forgotten...

All too soon, it was time to split up for other evening commitments.

Several weeks ago when making arrangements for the fast approaching trip to New York, I'd agreed to meet Dennis, a friend and colleague of Ellen's. She mentioned that he'd enjoy seeing a bit of London beyond Canary Wharf, where he's serving a two year post for a global investment bank.

"...I’m not match making but he is alone in London and would be very happy to meet someone that knows the town and would be fun to meet for dinner or a drink. Dennis is unattached as well... and he is a gentleman..." her e-mail explained.

"Sounds like she's match making to me!" Peter laughed.

So I was given advice on what to wear for what I would guess could be called a blind date.

Dean voted a very firm NO to the black, conservative loafers I bought on New Bond Street. "Don't you have any strappy sandals?"

"You mean I have to change?...Oh common, what's wrong with the penguin rucksack?!?" I whinged at the thought of having to dress up for this particular occasion.

After Yuki spilled a beer on the loft, I conceded that some of my other French fragrances would probably be more appropriate than Kronenbourg 1664.

"Well you'll certainly earn top marks for enthusiasm," Peter commented as I reluctantly shifted the contents of the penguin rucksack into my smart handbag and changed into more suitable evening dinner atire.

Eventually Dean issued his approval, once I was kitted with high heels and an Austin Reed jacket to complement my trusty green evening dress.

Christ what an achievement, given that Dean's idea of heaven would be a world full of Eva Longorias all wearing stilletos.

So the bliss of Saturday afternoon subsided when I parted with them at London Bridge to meet Dennis.

We had a chat whilst walking over to Shad Thames for a meal.

Being a friend of a friend, I did my best to be present and to participate in the conversation. I surprised myself by how easily I captured his attentions, rambling on about the usual things - work, London, home, family, friends... I listened intently whilst he carried on about his life in Brooklyn and his vacation house up in the mountains of Vermont.

Picking my way through the seafood ravoili and not really enjoying the Chianti, my mind was further down along the Thames, my eyes following suit by remaining almost stubbornely fixed on the captivating glow of Tower Bridge... it's true that my west-facing view did no favours for my dinner companion.

Politely declining his offer to walk me home, I then pointed him in the direction of London Bridge Station, and carried on down Tower Bridge Road on my own.

Turning the corner onto Leroy Street, I did a double take - was there someone following me?

No one was, and I felt my heart leap with happy anticipation, remembering what a treasure it was that someone once did...

And will I reveal anything of this someone who has quite unexpectedly captivated my heart's affections?

I will offer this. He is a very nice young man with a great smile, and I can't wait to see him again after he passes his CFA exam and I return from New York...

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