Оглавление
Анна Полосина. Winter Shoes for Cross-Country Running
Chapter 1. Preview
Chapter 2. Headhunted
Chapter 3. The Agency with Almost No Members
Chapter 4. Girls’ Day In
Chapter 5. New old friends
Chapter 6. Wings
Chapter 7. It’s not about love
Chapter 8. Meeting men online
Chapter 9. No fears
Chapter 10. Ideal Bachelors
Chapter 11. For mature audiences only
Chapter 12. No illusions
Отрывок из книги
When did I get the idea to write this book sharing my rich experience infiltrating London Introduction agencies? About a year ago. I cannot say it was a treat to write. Not quite. Fact was, even I couldn’t figure out what on earth I was writing it for.
The budget of the book inspires awe. It equals the cost of a good car, no more, no less. Even a premium car, sort of. An inquiring reader could ask: why the agencies of London? Because, in my late 30s and early 40s, I tried to use everything I had to my advantage. Men on the Moscow market looked to me all like the boys from the History of Literature or Liberal Arts department of University, where every representative of the masculine gender is valued much higher than his market price. You know any man feels like a good catch in the conditions where the supply is constantly shorter than the demand and competition is far behind. But should you cross the road, you will find yourself at the Physics Department, where the demand will sharply reverse and the most average girl from the Liberal Arts Department will get more than her fair value of male attention and even adoration. But this is exactly what we are looking for! Just as that average girl from the Liberal Arts Department, I turned myself to the equivalent of Physics department, to look for my share of womanly happiness with subsequent capitalization.
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To be quite direct, British chaps always struck me as total prudes in terms of gender-related material aspects of relationships, and intentionally careless in the financial aspects of courting. No use explaining further to those who understood. To those who did not understand, I will tell no more. Not to disappoint you, I will just say that you may be luckier than me.
The Carrot King, whose name I was quick to forget, confirmed my ingrained suspicion that hypocrisy was part of national character, rather than a cultural trait of the islanders. But I am running ahead of the story. So, Baldie decided to show me which houses he has access to and which big shots he rubbed elbow with. The most famous inhabitants of Norfolk were Stephen Fry, an aristocrat who, by some miracle, was not bankrupt, and the Carrot King. As the latter’s nickname suggested, he grew carrots, enough to saturate the world market. Baldie had arranged to meet with him, but the millionaire did not respond to his persistent calls. So Baldie went straight to his home. The house was open but we had to ring the doorbell for a long time before the sleepy Carrot King appeared. He was not tall and had a strong built. There was nothing special in his appearance but he had a good sense of humor and a very lively charm. He saw our couple obviously as a new source of entertainment, which made him wake up.
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