George came over for a girly night out last night (that’ll be Georgina for those confused). Lacking in inspiration we head to That Café for some top nosh.
With the drinking before, during and after, I’m fairly well juiced when the phone rings at 11pm and I’m landed with the accusation “Just how drunk are you?”.
I blame the Baileys.
Well actually I blame George who habitually leads me astray down the Baileys road to ruin.
Even so, I remember to set my alarms and wake in time for the box office opening at 9.30am in order to procure two tickets for Franz Ferdinand in October.
After ploughing through a pile of Greenbelt emails and making some overdue Greenbelt phonecalls I decide I need some chill out time and retreat to the garden with a good book, a glass of wine and Terry Callier on the hi-fi. Bliss.
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