‘Now, for this exercise, we’re looking to examine how you come across in this situation, body language, flow of conversation, etc. I’ll see you back here at ten am.’
Will reluctantly stands up again, informing me that ‘this meditation shite is dull’. ‘Want to skip it and go for a wander?’ he suggests. ‘We could drown ourselves in the loch. That might be more exciting.’
‘I’m going to give it another go,’ I reply assertively. ‘Maybe there is something in quieting your mind. I could use a bit of quiet.’
‘Wow, Brad must be one hell of a mentor,’ he teases. ‘Do you love him yet? A spring wedding is good for me, I look good in linen.Mrs Brad… what’s his surname again? Begins with an H… Hoodwinker? No. Hoodwanker?’
‘Stop being ridiculous,’ I insist as we walk into the red-carpeted room. ‘I’m allowed to change my mind about meditation, it doesn’t mean I’ve been brainwashed.’
‘You’re right,’ he agrees, kicking off his heavy boots. ‘But if I see you chanting at the moon, or performing any kind of sex ritual… well, I’ll be forced to join in, cos that sounds kind of fun.’
I laugh loudly as I pick up my floor cushion, causing everyone to turn and look. Anna gives me a smile which saysstop disrupting my beautiful Zen ambience, you moronso I make an apologetic face and dash over to my yoga mat. Will follows.
It’s only my third time meditating but I feel like I’m getting the hang of it. I inhale and exhale correctly and the number of obscure thoughts which race around my head are diminishing. The water sounds are still a little pee-inducing but at several points my mind is clear, and it feels wonderful. Like I’m not even there. I don’t completely zone out like last time but when we’re finished, I feel focused and more enthusiastic about my day. That is until Will opens his trap.
‘Ready to be chatted up by these clowns?’ he asks. ‘I wonder what they’ll write about you?’
Oh shit.It’s speed dating time.
CHAPTER17
As we return to the main hall, my stomach is in knots. I haven’t been on any kind of date in years. I’m no good at self-promotion. If Faith was here, she’d be selling the shit out of herself, but me, I have no real bragging rights to speak of.
‘This will be excellent material,’ Will remarks quietly. I grab him back by the sleeve.
‘You’d better not write about me!’
‘Course, I won’t. Anyway, I wouldn’t mention names. I’m not here to shame anyone… well, not yet anyway.’
Before I can reply, we’re in our groups with Brad who is positioning the chairs in two rows of five, facing each other. They’re just far enough apart so we won’t hear what the next person is saying, much to Will’s disappointment. He hands us all a printed sheet with names listed down the left-hand side.
‘OK, troops, boys one side, girls to the other. You’ll have three minutes each and then the men will move to the right, girls stay where you are.’
Allison giggles, smoothing down her red hair nervously. The rest of us all look somewhat sombre. I notice that Will makes a beeline for Meg, beating sweet-faced Nish to the seat opposite her. I think Meg is probably everyone’s type to be fair. Sixty-year-old Tim sits opposite me, I assume because I’m the least visually intimidating female in the group. I ponder whether this is a good thing or not.
Brad pulls over a spare chair and sits at the end of the rows. ‘I’d like you all to take notes about the other person as you go and be honest. Whether they are rude, funny, arrogant, not attentive, annoying, sweet – whatever; write it down.’
‘But isn’t it all subjective?’ middle-aged, bald Paul asks. ‘What someone finds rude, someone else might find refreshing.’ I notice that Paul has the thinnest, most pitiful moustache I’ve ever seen. It looks like it has been whispered onto his face.
Brad nods. ‘Yes and no. We tend to find that appearance is far more subjective than personality. If you get five people saying you’re rude, then it’s something to work on; just like if five people find you funny or charming, it attests to the good qualities you have. Remember, we’re not here to rate sexual attractiveness, we’re here to rate character. You won’t attract someone you really want until you are the best person you can be. Let’s get started.’
Tim and I just look at each other, neither sure where to begin. His startled expression hasn’t changed once since he arrived at bootcamp. He’s at least twenty years older than me with a brow so furrowed he looks like he’s been ploughed. I wonder how much courage he had to muster up to come here.
‘So, tell me about yourself, Tim,’ I say. ‘Do you have any hobbies?’
Tim thinks for a second then nods. ‘I do enjoy old movies. Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy, Bogart, James Cagney. I used to watch them with my wife.’
I don’t want to ask about his wife. I presume she’s dead, but who knows? She might have run off with the neighbour. It’s not my business.
‘Lovely,’ I reply. ‘Casablancais one of my favourite films.’
His eyes light up. ‘It’s a wonderful film. They don’t make them like that anymore. Modern films can be so coarse.’
‘And do you still work?’ I’m not sure anyone has paid attention to Tim in quite some time.
‘Oh no, dear, I retired a couple of years ago. My sons run the business now – Pinnock’s needed some younger blood.’
‘Pinnock’s? The biscuit makers?’
