Just to jump back a week or so, our anti-V Day smash-up went off very nicely. A brief meeting but plenty of mindful violence. Eroica and I gathered a bunch of instruments of destruction (mostly my karate weapons, plus a cricket bat, wicket, and a large concrete block), and with some very willing participation from Mel and the boys downstairs we set about the evil printer of doom (liberally adorned with names in a pseudo-voodoo-esque kinda way).
Lets face it, the thing didn't stand a chance. Most satisfying destruction.
I'll post pictures as soon as I figure out how (Frank, we'll email them to you as soon as RoBo brings the cd over and I'm not a zombie).
That was the night of the Stag/Hen parties so Bo & I went to our respective do's. The Stag night was pretty relaxed - no stripper, although we did watch porn. Drank far too much gin and tequila (as per fucking usual) and found myself wandering homewards at about 3am. Well, actually I found myself running (coz walking is too boring) in the freezing cold and pouring rain. Whilst texting people all over the place (or so I'm told - I have only hazy recollections of the sending of text, and imagine they didn't make a great deal of sense!).
It's possibly a 30 minute run from Mark's suburban abode to my inner-city 'hood, and about 10 minutes into it I got a call from Claire who was having a party that night also. So around I turned and ran back to the 'burbs to her place where I was quite obviously the most smashed person, not to mention wet from the squalling southerly. Met a lot of interesting people who I couldn't tell you a thing about if you tied me to an electric fence by my nipples, but Claire was good value as always. Crashed out there at 5ish (I really have no idea), and woke the next day to not nearly as much of a hangover as I deserved. Although someone had put socks on all my teeth, and there were what appeared to be a family of badgers excavating my skull.
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