And he was there! In his old place, same dirty beanie protecting him barely ever from the chilling wind. Never so delighted to see a gaunt skeletal face. Fished out my wallet pulled all the coins out of it and handed them to him.

"Hey, you're back!" I said, even though I had never spoken to him ever before.

"Aye, Ma'am, nowt much else better place to sell these," he pointed

I beamed, "Good."

My eyes fell on 3 copies of a new design, a tree painted in black water colour, with geometrically drawn leaves and trunk, and 5 gray leaves flying out of the perfectly proportioned outline in a rebellious fly away towards top right of the tree. It was gorgeous.

"This is new. It's nice."

"Aye, they're very popular those. You'll have som'awt?"

"No, thanks." I said, realising I had already handed all my change to him and it would be now a bit mean to take the card without paying for it, or asking him to give me change for a fiver. "Maybe some other time. Have a nice day!"

"You too Ma'am."

Thank you red bearded man. Its good to have you back on my walk to work every morning. 

I think I might buy that card on Monday. Put it up on my desk.

Yes, I think I'll do that.

He sits there everyday.

He wasn't there today.

I wonder where he is.

"It's good news you know."

"Steve, its not that. Its the principle of the thing. Is this a mid life crisis?"

"Oh come on. This is the thanks I get for finally seeing sense and doing something mature?"

"Shut up. I'm serious. This is serious. Call her. Tell her. Now."

"Why all this sympathy for her by the way? I thought you hated her."

"I have to go. I have to pop in at work before catching my flight."

"Oh come along Jenny. Tell you what, lets go out for dinner and then we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Don't come along me, Steve Lidgow."

She shot me a dirty look through her pretty violet eyes (they still looked pretty after all these years) and slammed the door behind her.

It was one of those days - cool, overcast with a slight chill that challenges you to wear just a flannel shirt and go for a jog. Windows still dewy at 2 in the afternoon. Duvet clad, and mighty glad, I pulled out one of the sweet babies Dave had given me for my anniversary and lit up. Looked out of the fifth floor ceiling-to-floor window beside my bed.

Yes, Steve, this was a good good day. A day when I was taking it off from work after a fantastic financial year.

A day for reflection, for knowing that for once, you had turned around at the monster of circumstance that zealously insisted on shadowing you every time you decided to start some life changing plan, looked it in the eye and said, "Look here you. That's it. Smack!"

A day for patting yourself for not letting life get to you.

A day for .. hm...maybe even a day to go to that gym that sucks up 1/30 of my salary every month. A man of my recently acquired new role should go to the gym. Be fit. He needs to be. If he wants to fulfil that role. Which, now that I had finally got myself to want that role, and found a way to get it, I wanted to.

Jenny would come around. She always had. Since college, despite several..um..interruptions, they had always been best of friends. And more.

Actually, why not act on Jenny's advice. She might not be half wrong, the sassy thing. He'd show Jenny he wasn't as much of a dimwit as she thought..

Hm. Cigar in hand, he lifted the handset and dialled his personal assistant.

"Erma, I need to book a flight to where Mrs. Lidgow is heading."

"Absolutely Sir. Giving the Missus a surprise by greeting her on the trip?"

"Well kind of. You remember those medical tests I asked you to pick up?"

"Yes."

"My wife, Erma, is pregnant. Only she doesn't know it yet."

"I'm sorry Sir I'm not quite sure what you...."

"Placebos Erma. Instead of her birth control pills. I'm 45, and I think she may have been right all these years. I want - nay, need - offspring to carry on the Lidgow legacy of fantasticity."

Silence on the other end.

"Of course Sir. I'm sure Mrs. Lidgow will be delighted. I'll have the flights booked at once. You will reach 12 hours after she lands. Will you need a hotel booked?"

Nope. I'm gonna be staying with her. What's that room she insisted on booking from here - something on the fourth floor in Grand Hyatt?"

"Yes Sir. Room 403. I'll arrange the taxi. And I can cancel your appointment with Ms. Jenny's after she returns from her trip tomorrow, I presume?"

"Cancel it all, ol girl. Its just me and Mrs. Lidgow now.  Erma, you know I can't wait to see her face when I tell her the news."

"I'm sure it'll be quite an eventful trip, Sir."

(This is a follow up post to Home Sweet Home)

Clad in a cool blue trench coat and tan suede boots, she quickly felt in her handbag for the hotel room card. She needed that card if her business trip was going to be a success. It had better be a success after all the paperwork she had had to complete before getting here. Hours with solicitors poring over which pound should go where. Long sleepless nights thinking about the final day when it would come to fruition.

As she stood at the conveyer belt, her fingertips glazed over the freckles of rust on the trolley handle. Ah, rust.

Suddenly glad no one was coming to receive her, she walked out slowly, taking in every jet lagged executive and every first time air traveller, so obvious by their over labelled baggage.

When she was last here, twenty aching years ago, she had bet her entire life on a game of chance. Surprised herself with her confidence when she left her life, her love, her everything to go to a new country in hope of a brighter future. Was quickly corrected when emotional turmoil and professional struggle tested her privileged upbringing's true character. Had she passed? To all her friends, she had aced the class. But she knew. She knew that a girl like her, bound by God's curse-and-boon gift of switching to autopilot till her mind could cope with the harsh realities around her, had been damaged. Irreversibly. Cold analytical dissection which left her longing for emotion, knowing all the while that the floodgates were better left unopened.

Not once, the calmness of knowing you sleep by one you unconditionally trust. Not once, the relief of letting go of all conscious thought. She used to love going out. She had gone out. But she had forgotten how to enjoy herself. Care-trodden her brain failed to stop reminding her of self created responsibilities.

She used to dream of single life at 45.

She used to dream of  learning the salsa.

She used to dream of a road trip across Europe as a part of the Salvation Army.

She used to dream of living hard in a rat infested New York downtown dump.

She used to dream of an exotic partner who would careen her into a dangerous world of Parisian cafes, Thai mystique and Gothic literature.

She used to dream of a writer's desk on a rainy afternoon in a suburban home.

She used to dream.

She doesn't anymore.

She's free now. From dreams. From reality. Most importantly, she's free from human affections. Emotional immunity perfected, yet ever so empathetic.

She's a fantastic actress. She fools herself too sometimes. Into thinking she's got it all despite never being able to convince her husband to have children with her. Into thinking her marriage was strong despite many falls from grace. Into thinking she is happy, despite a Prozac filled medicine cabinet. It's dangerous to be able to fool yourself, especially when you have an IQ of 130.

Today she believes she's home. A husband who loves her, parents who can't stop raving about her at senior citizen friendship circles, a career that allows Cosmopolitan to sell fantasies to millions of lost women who will be stuck in jobs they hate all their lives.

She's going to go to her 5 star hotel room and shoot herself tonight.

Elevator music. Take me home, country roads.

Indeed.

"Fourth floor. You're room is the third on the right, Madam."

"Thank you."

She stepped out of the lift.

As though something's amiss.

As I sat through my belated-by-a-day birthday cake cutting and the opening of a lovely package, it just seemed..plugged into a wall.

I shooed away the thought as my bored brain trying to get above itself. Then again today, the same feeling. On the tram, the doleful tune of  "all around me are familiar places, worn out places, worn out places.." wickedly convoluted all cheer that a light drizzle accompanied by the welcome raw earth small and the invigorating almost too strong morning breeze can bring.

As I reached work, the predictability of everyone's oh-so-human behaviour to a simple shuffling of desks - which I was in-charge of purely cause the officiating manager didn't want nowt to do with it and left me with a desk layout, a list of 5 names too many and a "I want a window seat" - was making me want to slap someone, anyone..everyone preferably.

Everyone wanted a window seat or did not want to be near the kitchenette or wanted to be seated with so and so making me feel like I was in one of those giant "If A is sitting opposite C and B and D will not sit together and E must be seated to the right of A in which order must they be seated?" type puzzles. I felt like a school teacher with kids who whined about "But he talks so loudly on the phone" or "How come he's sitting there?" I felt like I desperately needed a soundproof room.

No PMS, not too much sugar or junk food lately, no argument, nothing. I was - quite inexplicably - at snapping point. Usually, I can patiently dole out the quiet tactful explanations when I want to make it clear that I am not going to be bullied by colleagues. Usually, I can multitask. Even if the extension rings just as my bash shell decides to throw 5 unfathomable error logs at me and I'm in the middle of a ppt to be delivered in the next 3 hours, I can be civil, even nice to the person on the other end. I almost enjoy the brief adrenaline spells (yes yes I realise what a nerd this makes me sound like).

Today, it was driving me up the wall. One bloke came up to me and told me the LAN switch I had just given him wasn't working. When, exasperated after 3 minutes of explaining which port goes where, I walked over to his desk 2 aisles away and he asks me, "by the way, is there a power adapter for this or is it battery run?"

By lunchtime, I was clearly going to burst. I was feeling physically sick and was wondering if there might be some truth in the hormonal nonsense my GP had tried to sell me during my last visit. I was dodging the line between assertive and aggressive.

Next thing I know, the deputy comes up to me and says, only half-jokingly I suspect, "Well you were in charge of this, Adrian (the boss he "deputes" for, not his real name)  has been on leave half a day and look at this. I blame you."

I had had it.

I replied - and God help me I am not lying -  I have no freaking idea where this came from and  I do not make a habit of playing with authority - " Well, it teaches you, Mr. Deputy,  never to apply for Adrian's job unless you're damn sure you can handle it."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I don't think he got it.

Next I sent a completely rude answer to a text message from my Mom. Thankfully, I convinced her 3 hours later that it was due to that fact that the message was ill timed enough to come right in the middle of a meeting. She reluctantly bought it. She's a Mom though, I think she might just have just decided to be nice to me by pretending.

Things got a bit better when come 3.30pm (the time of the desk shift) the entire office turned into a giant pyjama party with people shoving keyboards, staplers and all sundry back and forth. Someone put on some music and soon the beats of "This heartache" with the fumes of a very acerbic smelling and yet scarily addictive surface cleaner filling the air. Beers were passed all around, on the house, and it all ended not on an altogether awful note.

But its also personal - its about how being a woman affects my decision to go to a  B-School and indeed, affects the panel's decision to accept me.

Having spent 4 years in an engineering class of 70 boys and 3 girls (including me), I can safely tell you that it takes grit to stand your own in a male dominated geek world. It's easy to assume that the guys with all their high-flown jargon actually know what they're talking about, its even easier to assume you can never match up to them. I flunked out of one exam in the 88 I took over those four years - because the instructor refused to believe it was me who had actually designed that circuit. He was convinced I had pilfered it off a presumably more solder-savvy male classmate. But it really does come down to whether you allow yourself to be convinced that your brain is biologically not quite as well cut out for the job as theirs. For many promising girls, I saw their intelligence and potential being cut down by half only because they allowed themselves to believe that girls are all about exam oriented academics and not about getting their hands dirty with real life subject matter.

As a female engineering student, I faced the following challenges:

• Stereotyping and preconceptions of women's roles and abilities - there were those who believed a woman couldn't have a career at all and there were those who believed women could only have a career in non-technical media/fine arts/HR roles (creditably many of the latter also felt women did a better job in these roles). I have been lucky to have come across some enlightened souls who do take women on the same intellectual platform.
• Exclusion from the informal boys' gang where many stimulating discussions and "experiments" were carried out
• Exclusion from the boys' hostel where mentoring and night long chats led to significant career prospects and knowledge transfer
• A greater sense of commitment to personal/partner/family responsibilities than to a career (this part of my personality was quite hidden even to myself till about a year ago).

It came as no surprise that here in Australia, this gap has been identified and there are special women engineering groups and government policies to help women get back to work. Eg, Part time and work-from-home policies (extremely feasible especially in the IT world where all you need is a coffee and a computer), networking events for women, voluntary support groups, paternity leave so mommy doesnt have to do all the baby sitting etc.

Now as I think of  B-school I wonder.  A quick google search identifies the following roadblocks for female B-School wannabes:

• Lack of workplace mentorship (again, old boys' network and Friday night beer chats)
• Belief of senior management that even potentially fantastic lady managers will not want to pursue a high pressure job (they need to get back home early, they won't do overtime on weekends etc)
• The biological clock. The average ago of an MBA applicant is 28. By that age, aunts, mums and married friends are all over you to get hitched.
• Fear of math (I know, weird! You might as well assume men can't be well versed in fine arts!)
• Women find it hard to gain credibility as a full-fledged professional rather than a team member who is there to supplement her family's income.

And these are the top tips for women who want to make it to B-schools, sourced from by women who've done it and B-schools that are keen to improve their intra-class dating ratios:

• Money matters - be savvy about personal finance, negotiate your salary.
• Keep it pink - you don't have to be one of the boys or go all short skirts and lace frills. Be professional but don't try to think like a man. A woman brings a different viewpoint to any situation - viewpoints that are as valuable (there is a reason B-schools want the ladies there).
• Take your personal life out of the office - no coochie coo calls at the workplace, no gossiping and definitely no flirting.
• Knowledge is power - Nothing beats expertise - it forces people to consult you and showcases your skills. Stay on top of current trends in your field.
• Network, network, network. On the job, in the family, with the school gang, and even online.
• Seek and you shall receive - research shows that leaders - male or female - have one overriding trait - the desire to be a leader. If you know your boss appreciates your skills, let him know you're interested in being a team leader. He'll keep it in mind the next time he has a recruitment meeting with senior management. And remember, all companies are looking to diversify their management portfolio genderwise - it makes the company look good. A friend of mine at IIM Kolkata once told me any girl getting through the CAT preliminary had a 50% higher chance of getting through the interview - simply because she was competing with a much smaller demographic.

Now what surprises me is that there are 2 fields that have had no trouble incorporating women in their taskforce as well-respected equals - law and medicine. So why are the technical and the management fields still so dicey? Let me have a think, I'll come back to you soon.

But the trait remains despite many attempts at supression. For instance, a certain person at my office is one of these quiet pseudo Brit blokes who disquiets you with a confidence that can only be borne of deep living. And it takes some disquieting to disquiet me. He's one of those strong and silent types who probably found the girl of his dreams, said yes-that's-it and settled down with her for the rest of his life. One of those finer specimens who make you understand why we still go around believing in fidelity. Now I would love to have one of those tete-a-tetes, be done with it and move on to the next brain, but that attractive solitude is exactly the reason I know I never will get to.

The first time I realised I loved this was when I sat opposite a person purely by chance in a Dubai airport executive lounge while waiting for a flight delayed by 15 hours and had the most fascinating 6 hour conversation with him. Turned out, he was a twice married orphaned Pakistani doctor who had escaped his native village and gone on to become a surgeon at Chicago city hospital. And as I left him for my plane, I thought to myself, "This is what humanity means - exchanging life stories over dinner even though you'll never meet each other again."

Everyone's had them - those long conversations in Indian trains or overnight in a bus with the person next to you. You don't want to meet the person again, but you're glad your paths crossed.

Thankfully, over the years I have learnt not to misconstrue this curiosity as anything but, but the fact remains that it very annoying that the most interesting specimens of our world are the ones who just about give a sliver of themselves away and hide everything else.

Very annoying indeed.